What was I Saying About the Horse in the Cold Wet Dark?

The Monday Post

And the rain turned to heavy snow…

early snow

What was I saying about horses in the wet cold dark? About the stupid?

Well, there’s the flip side of the coin. When the horse has to deal with Human Stoopids in the wet cold dark.

There’s a truth with horses–surround them with bubble wrap, and they’ll still find a way to hurt themselves. Just imagine what goes on when there’s a real excuse for it…

This weather has been hard on my getting-older boy–his flank is still tender from the fall he took on ice earlier in the week, and he felt that night of getting wet down to his bones. But the next bit wasn’t his fault, not at all.

His paddock is on an area that’s newly graded, you see–or half of it, anyway. A bit of construction overlap. “But safe for a horse, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. No problem.”

As muddy as it gets, it turns out–not what I was expecting, after my time in Flagstaff’s high desert. Though the guys were expecting it, and wood shavings have taken care of much of the mud immediately in front of the barn.

Turns out the mud wasn’t the problem. But that human factor…

All that grading. All that rain. All that ground settling beneath a frozen crust of mud.

Oh yes.  Problem.

And yes, we’re talking a sinkhole.

A sinkhole which one stout Lippie hind leg plunged through to the hock while the other–that’s the one with the totally funky, reconstructed stifle–scrambled to keep the first leg from breaking, front hooves slamming down on the frozen mud and halfway through the extended air pocket stretching out before him. All that struggle, written in the mud to freeze and read, and painted all over his white coat.

Well, he didn’t break his leg. I’m not sure how. But the horse who greeted me in front of the stall the next morning was one hurtin’ boy. He gave me that look. You know. “Please fix this.”

Of course I found the sink hole. And I found the air pocket extending radically beyond what he’d gone through, so I left him in his stall eating breakfast to hunt down the bute (horsie anti-inflammatories) and to call the construction guys to bellow for help. Bless them, they hustled out there fast.

In this mud, the best we could do is put up a little square of corral panels to block it off–it’ll be a while before it’s fixed. Especially given the weather we’ve had since then and are slated to have this coming week–snow ‘n’ blow.

Meanwhile, Duncan has had his bute and is feeling much better overall.¬† Although, as it happens, the spate of weather has finally driven him indoors. He’s been wearing his waterproof/wind proof sheet most of this time, but he’s finally hanging out in his stall.

In fact, in that photo up top? Yup, he’s in there. In the horse cave. Waiting for hay, carrots, and nose-kisses…

And forgiving the human stoopids.

Aren’t animals just like that?

About Doranna

My books are SF/F, mystery, paranormal romance, and romantic suspense. My dogs are Beagles, my home is the Southwest, and the horse wants a cookie!
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5 Responses to What was I Saying About the Horse in the Cold Wet Dark?

  1. Alyson Widen says:

    As soon as anyone says, “No problem,” I start imaging many possible problems and the probability they might happen. My cousins horse got scared by thunder and ended up with his leg tangled in a tree. They had to put him down and he was a great jumper. Another time, while watching a polo game, one pony who had just run full out making a goal and came halfway down the field to make another, had a heart attack and passed away. The game was called and that was the end of polo for the day. I never felt so much for a horse as at the usually elegant event.

    • Doranna says:

      Oh, I did imagine various problems. None of them were this one, though!

      Such sad stories about those horses. As companions, they make such a big impact on us…

      I have you entered in the FF contest–thanks for stopping by!

  2. Alyson Widen says:

    Happy Fresh Fiction Day. I forgot to add this and read the directions after the fact.

  3. Steve Miller says:

    Whoa … that’s a lucky deal all the way around … yeah, them silly humans *do* think they have it all under control sometimes….

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