Happiness is a frolicking horse

And so the New Year has come, I'm back to my job and a new cycle of work. But I'm also back to my horses.

The mare has healed from her wounds, and other than a criss-cross of hairless lines on her legs one wouldn't know of the trauma she's been through. Luckily she's not showing signs of lameness as she gallops through the pasture, but I'm not sure if she's the lucky one or me; we'll decide that when I start legging her up again to get back in training.

The old man on the other hand is presenting his own set of challenges these days. I'm afraid his age and chronic illness are catching up to him. He dropped weight over the holidays and hasn't put it back on yet though he's back to a more regular feeding schedule. Blood work by the vet came back clean, so I take whatever comfort I can from that.

When I retired the old boy two years ago from a university teaching herd I knew his days were limited. My objective was to give him a comfortable home after his years of service in their lesson and training program. Between the arthritis in his knees and the melanoma tumors (a condition that roughly 95% of grey horses in this part of the world will experience) I gave the old boy 2-3 more years; it's now been about two and a half.

Now I play the watch-and-wait game. I'm tinkering with his feed to try to put the weight back on, trying to pack in as many calories as I can while he's in the barn. When I turn him out on the winter pasture for a few hours every day, I watch to see how he responds to the opportunity. The other horses react like kids who realized the candy store door was left wide open and unattended. Lately he still shows the interest, but the enthusiasm is not there.

I'd feel better if he would let loose with a good run and buck like he did a month ago. For now I'll interpret his nickers, pricked ears, and brief spells of floating trot as the sign that all is as well as it can be.