Wednesday, April 06, 2022
Almost twenty-five years old, Rosie has been with me for nine years. She’s carried me in every local mountain and forest. An elegant mover, she arrived here already an experienced driving horse. I wanted to learn to drive, and she’s been a fun partner.
Yesterday afternoon, Rosie seemed a little strange. I saw her lying in one position and then shifting to another. Unusual, so I watched her. After a bit of rolling, she stood. Well, maybe okay. I went into the house and wasn’t away long from the barn. On returning, I saw Rosie again lying down. Now she was making me worry.
I hung a bag of hay which Rosie ignored. A horse that won’t eat is A Red Flag for serious concern. All happening pointed to colic. Rosie wandered, looking for another spot to lay down, and I followed with a halter and lead rope. I haltered her hanging head and gave a little tug, “Let’s walk, Rosie.”
We walked around and around in the dry lot. At first, although reluctant, Rosie didn’t try stopping to lay down. To my joy, she had a bowel movement and afterward seemed to lead easier. Eventually, in promising signs, she snorted and licked her lips. I had no medications at the barn, nor would I have left her for some, fearing she’d lay down and not want to get up. My ear against her body picked up slight gut sounds.
We walked nearly for an hour, and my iWatch recorded 17,000 steps.
She wasn’t showing an interest in the hay bag. I led her to it, and she nibbled. I watched until she was eating with vigor. The evening was darkening; I felt exhausted.
I’m waiting for the light to dawn and will check on Rosie.
Dear Friends: Horses are powerful and also fragile. Diana