Splintober

We followed up our excellent cross country school with an equally excellent flat lesson last week. I think Runkle heard me dropping an entry in the mail for our ~*first*~ Beginner Novice because the next day he was lame. Like, pretty freakin' lame. Front leg had a suspiciously large bump that was warm and sensitive to the touch.

Hello, Splintober.

So I scratched the stupid horse trial and also in overprotective mother fashion had the vet out. Luckily she said it was a very run of the mill splint, gave me a treatment plan and drove off in her van to assuage another anxious mother's fears. He's allowed turnout in an individual paddock with NO RUNNING and I'm allowed to walk him. Again, walk. NO. RUNNING.

Since Runkle's free time activities include getting as many bites and cuts as a horse can possibly have and trying to hang himself from the rafters, I already had most of the equipment needed to treat a splint, except poultice. That's kind of intentional, as I hate poultice. It's pretty satisfying to scoop out of a bucket but the enjoyment stops there. Poultice is annoying to put on, annoying to take off and makes everything so dirty. I started using the Stayons pre-packaged poultice which are kind of expensive but I think the easy cleanup makes it worth it.

If I've learned one thing about this horse in the past year it's that he's really shitty at being laid up. He gets bored and makes his own fun. Individual turnout sometimes involves running and he's somehow got even more nicks and bite marks than he did when he was out in the big field with his frandz.

Bros before Hos

Saturday I tried to take him on a hack. It was raining a little, but it wasn't pouring and a little rain never hurt anyone so off we went. The neighbor was chopping wood near the fence line and ever time the ax hit the wood block Runkle jumped as if I were chopping him with the ax. Finally we got past the Lumberjack of Doom and I heard a rustling in the woods. Several deer leaped out into the path and scared the absolute piss out of Runkle.

Ice on his legs
Cookies in his heart

He tried to run off but, you know, splint, so instead he just kind of hobbled quickly away with his little heart racing. So we walked in the indoor instead.

Ugh, Runkle. Please get better. I hate seeing you grumpy and miserable inside. Also you scare me. Love, Megan.

no, but srsly, bring the cookies