By Patti Thomas Baker
The first time I saw Winston I knew he
was special. He was a double registered spotted saddle horse/
Tennessee walking horse. He was Sir Winston's Dandy. Beautiful
sorrel and white and at the top of his game in the show ring. A lot
arrogant and not cuddly. He had been brought low by a tiny cut about
1/4 of an inch on his hind leg. This tiny little cut became infected
and turned his tendon into a wet noodle. He was so gorgeous and so
pitiful all at the same time. It was awe at first sight.
After 6 months of intense treatment he
was saved from euthanization, but due to scar tissue he would never
show again. I didn't think I would see him again. 2 years later, the
man who worked for the stable walked into the clinic where I worked
and came straight up to the counter and said, “I need some one to
take Winston”. He was scheduled to be euthanized due to his severe
arthritis. My heart exploded. Before consulting my husband I dived
in head first and blurted out, “ME! I will take him.”
All the arrangements were made and I went to see my new horse. I had always wanted to own my own horse and I had all these thoughts in my head of how it was going to be; rehabilitating my beautiful boy, sugar cubes and carrots, fuzzy rubber lipped kisses and walking through meadows. Boy was I in for a rude awakening.
All the arrangements were made and I went to see my new horse. I had always wanted to own my own horse and I had all these thoughts in my head of how it was going to be; rehabilitating my beautiful boy, sugar cubes and carrots, fuzzy rubber lipped kisses and walking through meadows. Boy was I in for a rude awakening.
When I showed up to the muddy lot that
held my boy, he had just freshly rolled in in the blackest puddle of
mud he could find, his head held in the perfect 'Trail of Tears'
horse pose. Back leg cocked and out to the side and looking a bit
disjointed. I walked up to him and whispered his name and he
immediately showed me his extremely muddy butt. I was so sad, but
still I made the commitment, loaded him up and took him to my
farrier.
My farrier was familiar with Winston
because he was key in his treatment 2 years prior. He fashioned the
brace that Winston stood in for 6 months. I told him that he was
arthritic, and wanted to know what I could do foot wise to make him
more comfortable. I love my farrier, and in only the way he can he
ignored me totally and walked around my horse grunting and sighing.
He told me to walk him this way and that, and in his blunt as a spoon
way, he said to me, "Whoever told you this horse has arthritis
is an idiot."
For the second time in a short time
period my heart did funny things. With a mixture of dread and hope I
took a deep breath and braced myself for the news to come. It seems,
his tendon didn't heal correctly He went on to explain to me ever
patient with my 'new horse' owner ignorance. He laid out a plan for
me that he felt would work, but there were no guarantees. He
stressed that my role in his rehab was huge and if I slacked then I
couldn't expect miracles if I didn't work with him daily and
persistently. SO for 3 long months I would saddle him and ride him
in left hand circles for 20 minutes. I was greeted every day with
his dirty butt turned to me as soon as I entered the pasture or barn.
Despite bathing and brushing him constantly he always found the
nastiest mud to roll in and was completely un interested in me and
anything I did. Every other step his leg would stretch and he would
stumble and it was painful to see this gorgeous horse brought so low.
I was becoming disheartened and wondering if this was ever going to
work.
The last week of our 3 month, exercise
20 min. a day, I pulled up to the pasture and he headed to the barn
as soon as he saw me. I leaned over and was fumbling with the lock
on the gate and I had warm snuffles on the back of my neck. Thinking
it was my nieces horse, I nudged him away and continued as I glanced
over I realized it wasn't Blaze. I
absolutely froze. Still as a statue except for my hand, I inched it
up and placed it softly on the side of his nose and just stood. He
came to me. I was giddy! I said, “Hi boy”, and just as quickly
as that I was staring at his newly muddied butt and he was ignoring
me again. I took him in to his farrier appointment, hoping that 3
months of blah would turn into something great.
I walked him across 1.5 acres and we
stretched every other step all the way to the waiting farrier. He
then trimmed and fitted him with his signature custom made shoes. He
said it looks funny but I believe this will do the trick. I told him
I didn't care what it looks like if it eases the discomfort. He
buttoned him down and had me walk Winston. He took the first step
stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around to look at his leg. He
took another step, stopped and stretched. Then we walked in circles
and back to the round pen without stopping one time to stretch that
leg. I was amazed.
The rest of that week his whole
attitude changed. He met me at the gate singing. Three weeks later
he was doing a beautiful running walk up and down the fence. He was
gaining weight and shedding his winter coat. I was riding him with
his special shoes and boots up to an hour a day. Eventually, this
horse that was scheduled to die not once but twice, became my go-to
trail horse. For short periods of time I can ride bootless, but with
the boots I can now ride up to 3.5 hours without any complications.
They said he would never be ridden
again and look at us now. He runs to the gate and searches me for
graham crackers, and now when he whips that dirty muddy butt to me it
is for me to scratch that special spot because only mom can do it
just right. He is still an arrogant snob with most people, but he
has included my husband and children into his small elite group.
Despite his snobbery, he is mine all mine and I love him dearly, and
I think he loves me too!
Many
thanks to Durvet Apple Wormer for sponsoring "This is my Trail Horse". Winston
will receive a gift from Durvet. www.applewormer.com
Share your "This is My Trailhorse" story with ACTHA Facebook by emailing laurie@actha.us
Share your "This is My Trailhorse" story with ACTHA Facebook by emailing laurie@actha.us