Saturday encore ~ A return to the back 40

This post is from October 30 last year.

The song is "Autumn Gold" by David Tolk.

Saturday encore ~ Hank in the springtime

Last Saturday's encore post included a picture of Hank. 

I'd been trying to avoid posting encores that included him 

because...I don't know why. But some of you remarked that 

it was good to see him again, so here he is in all his springtime glory.

 

Remembering Hank

I said goodbye to Hank on Friday. Yes, it was as heart-breaking as you're imagining. 

The quality of his life had gone downhill fast since mid-December. 

The snow and ice and mud took their toll on his fragile knee, 

and his bad days far outnumbered his good ones. 

I didn't think he'd make it through another storm.

I made the decision to let him go last weekend and scheduled the vet appointment for Friday, 

when I anticipated being able to get out with the horse trailer. 

That gave me a week to wrap my head and heart around the decision
and to spoil him with as much love – and as many treats – as he could handle. 

Early Friday morning, Lucy, George and Alan escorted us to the corral gate

and watched our every move as I loaded Hank in the trailer.

In their own way, I know they knew he wouldn't be coming back.

Our long-time vet performed the euthanasia, and it was painless and very peaceful for Hank.

I let him go knowing that he lived the last 10 years of his life
in the wide open spaces of the ranch, just being a horse.

Hank steals the spotlight from the cat

I don't know what Hank and Johnny were listening to here,

but I love that they were sharing the moment.

Hank moves so slowly these days that he poses no threat 

to a cat who is one-hundredth of his size.

This photo shoot was going to be about the cat...

...until Hank walked over to the juniper tree...

...and the sunlight filtered through the branches in just the right place

to shift the spotlight.

Hank, the shapeshifter

Worrying about my animals is one of my specialties, and when Hank is involved, 

I can raise worrying to an art form. For the past few months, my worry level over Hank

has been a consistent 3 on a 10-point scale. Had it ever reached 4, I would have called the vet.

I imagine that call would have gone something like this:

Me: Hi, Doc, I'm worried about Hank.

Doc: What seems to be the problem?

Me: His nose is getting pointy.

Doc: (long pause) Pointy?

Me: Yes.

Doc: Maybe we have a bad connection. Did you say pointy?

Thankfully, before I embarassed myself and made the call, our farrier showed up

and looked at Hank's pointy nose. He has seen enough snakebit horse noses in his career

to recognize that what is happening to Hank's muzzle is common amongst the bitten.

It's not that Hank's nose is growing pointier, it's that the side that was snakebit 

has contracted and looks smaller.

Oh. Well, that's a relief!

Here is how Hank's nose looked before the snakebite, 

all nicely squared off at the bottom and pointless.

Hank: Do you think anyone will notice? Maybe we can save up for a nose job.

Me: You're handsome enough just the way you are.

 

Looking for the herd at the crack of dawn

The sun and I seem to be sleeping a little later these days. 

 Me: Good morning, George.

George: You're being followed.

 My escort, the feral beast. His reluctance to venture into the pasture

gives way to his desire to accompany me, particularly when a meal is imminent.

 Me: Good morning, Lucy.

Lucy: *nom nom nom nom nom*

 Me: Johnny, you shouldn't be out this far.

JCC: Don't I know it.

 Me: Good morning, Hank. You're looking exceptionally handsome in the morning light.

 JCC: Seriously...we need to go back before something catches me

and your blog readers chastise you for not letting me be a house cat.

 Me: Come on, guys. Scaredy Cat wants to go home.

 JCC: They're not listening to you.

Me: And you're not listening to me. What's your point?

JCC: I'll meet you back at the barn.

Saturday encore ~ A hermit with a blog

I love the way the ranch looks and feels in the fog.

It's like an added layer of insulation from civilization.

Does that make me sound like a hermit? I guess I am.

A hermit with a blog.

Passing time in the pasture

Light at the end of the pill bottle

Finally, Monday morning, after 26 days, Hank is taking his final dose of medicine post-snakebite.
He's doing great, by the way, with no side effects from the bite. I shot this video Sunday morning.

Another case of purple tongue disease

They think I've come outside to remove their muzzles and masks. Wrong.

I've really come out to check on Hank, because that is what one does 87 times a day

when one has a horse recovering from a snakebite. 

My own version of PTSD (post traumatic snakebite disorder)

has me convinced that every time I go outside I will find Hank with a great big swollen face

and a new bite. I really need to get over it. 

While there was no new bite this time, there was definitely something else going on,

and thank goodness I had seen it before or surely I would have gone into panic mode

and called the vet.

Me: Come on, Hank. Open up and show the folks at home what I'm talking about.

Purple tongue disease, a harmless condition caused by eating tumbleweeds 

before they dry up and tumble. 

 The purple stuff in the stems is what stains Hank's tongue and teeth. 

Either that, or he's got a stash of red wine somewhere that he's not sharing.

Because they're worth it

I've had a lot of animals over the years, large and small, and my experience here in New Mexico 

is that the large animal vet bills (horses, donkeys, pigs) are always less than what I expect 

and the small animal vet bills (dogs and cats) are always more. Since most of you overestimated 

the amount of Hank's vet bill in last week's contest, I thought it might be interesting 

to look at a breakdown of the charges so we could all compare and commiserate. 

Also, the procedures appear more or less in the order they occurred, so if you ever

have a snakebit horse that presents with colic symptoms two days post-bite,

this might give you a general idea of what to expect.

Nothing on there seems exorbitant to me, especially when I consider the things

I wasn't charged for, like all the phone calls with the vet in the days between the snakebite

and Hank's hospitalization and the hours that the vets and techs spent at Hank's side,

willing him to eat and drink. Viewed in that light, I'd say I got a bargain.

I really don't understand veterinary economics, nor why small animal vets here
charge more than large animal vets. I don't think the small animal vets are charging too much; 

it's more like the large animal vets aren't charging enough.
Perhaps it comes down to what the market will bear.

In any case, if you're going to have animals, you're going to have vet bills,
but I think we'd all agree, they're worth it.

Hank's homecoming

The big guy came home yesterday, and he seems totally back to his normal goofy self.

In honor of his homecoming and to thank you all for your unending support, let's have a giveaway.

Whomever comes the closest to guessing the amount of his vet bill gets to pay it. Kidding!

Leave a comment with your best guess. The one who comes closest wins a canvas print 

of the photo of your choice from this blog. One guess per person, please, and be sure to include 

your name if you sign in anonymously. The guessing game closes Friday at 5 p.m. Mountain time.

The winner will be announced Saturday morning.

The Snakebite Report ~ Day 5

Whew. At 8:45 p.m. Tuesday night, Hank finally decided it was okay to drink water. 

Give us all a heart attack, why don't you?

The vet reports that his current behavior (eating fine, then not eating fine because the acid content 

in his stomach changes and he doesn't feel well for awhile, then eating fine again) 

helps confirm the diagnosis of ulcers, and I should expect that for awhile after he comes home,

which should be today as long as: 1) his protein levels are normal and 

2) it doesn't rain and I can get there to pick him up.

All the vets at the clinic agree that Hank is not comfortable in that environment

and shouldn't stay any longer than necessary. Sort of like me when I go to town.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the rest of the herd is anxiously awaiting Hank’s return. 

Lucy, George and Alan are leaderless and seem uncertain of what to do in his absence. 

I shot the following video yesterday, when: 1) they were late coming home in the morning,

2) Alan attempted to leave before I could put on his fly mask and grazing muzzle, 

3) they all stood at the gate wondering where Hank was, 

and 4) they spent much of the day napping.

You might notice a different look to this video. I broke my Flip video camera 

a few weeks ago and had to get a new one. That turned out to be a good thing because 

I’d been wanting a hands-free head-cam for awhile. We’ll be having all kinds of fun with it,

especially when I figure out how to put it on someone’s head other than my own.

p.s. I'll update the Twitter feed at the bottom of this page throughout the day as the situation warrants.

p.p.s. Have I told you lately how much your support and concern and comments 

have helped me get through this?

I don't know what comes after p.p.s. but I'll try to remember to wear the head-cam 

for the Hank/herd reunion. 

The Snakebite Report ~ Day 4

Every time the vet calls, I take copious notes, and here is what I wrote down yesterday:

1. The latest ultrasound showed that his misplaced intestine has dropped down into its rightful position. Can I have an amen?

2. The vets are operating on the theory that all the bute and banamine I had to give him to relieve his pain and swelling caused gastric ulcers. They believe this because he went from uninterested in food to ravenous once pumped full of milk of magnesia – ravenous to the point of eating the stall shavings, which had to be removed.

3. Hank convinced the staff that he is claustrophobic and demanded to be moved from an enclosed indoor stall with a great big fan to an outdoor pen, where he prefers to stand in the unsheltered portion, torrential rain or shine. I'm told the vet went out in a storm to move him under the shelter and he promptly went right back into the rain. That's my boy.

4. He makes everybody laugh.

5. He appears bright-eyed, comfortable and content. Were it not for his still-swollen muzzle and the fact that he's not drinking any water, the vet would allow him to come home.

I told the vet that Hank has been known to be a finicky water drinker; when I used to take him on weekend trips, I hauled water from home and he still wouldn't drink for the first 24-36 hours. So is he not drinking now because he can't or because he won't? Perhaps I need to take Fish to the clinic to poop in his water so that it tastes right.

Anyway, they'll continue to work on getting the swelling to go away, using low doses of dexamethasone instead of the stomach-irritating bute and banamine. And with any luck, he'll start drinking on his own. Because I live so far away, they don't want to release him until they're positive he's ready.

I'm breathing big sighs of relief, and I hope you are, too. Thank you all for your support and concern.
I'm confident Hank will be home soon in all his handsome glory.

The further adventures of Hank and the snakebite

Hank is not a happy camper. Though the swelling from the snakebite gradually decreased

as the weekend progressed, other symptoms began to appear Saturday night: 

he wasn't interested in his food, he wasn't drinking enough water, and he sure wasn't himself. 

Late Sunday afternoon, I told him if he wasn't significantly better by Monday morning, 

he would have to go to the vet. Then I looked at the weather forecast for Sunday night 

(70% chance of heavy rain) and said nevermind, we're going now while we still can.

His reaction to that news was not surprising.

Anyway, to the vet we went. The vet poked and prodded and ultrasounded and

tubed him. There might be an impaction further into his colon than the vet's arm can reach,

and there's some question about whether a section of intestine is misplaced. 

All of that is secondary to the snakebite, but undoubtedly a result thereof. 

So Hank is still at the clinic, being pumped full of fluids and stronger anti-inflammatories 

than I was able to give him here. I'm not extremely worried because I know he's getting 

the best possible care. On the other hand, I'm still worried because...because Hank.

The one where Hank gets bit by a snake

Spoiler alert: As I post this Friday evening at 5 p.m., Hank is doing well. 

Remember that as I tell the tale.

It was Thursday around 5 p.m. I walked out to the barn, only to find George chasing the chickens

in the front yard. WTF and how did he get in the front yard?  I tried to herd the chickens

out of harm's way and was having no luck, so I ran to the feed room to grab a halter and lead rope

for George. I passed Hank on my way and had another WTF moment. 

His muzzle was swollen up like a balloon. I knew in a heartbeat 

that he'd most likely been bitten by a snake.

I've probably read every article about snakebites and horses that's ever been written, 

recognizing that some day I would have to deal with one of these emergencies, 

but all that knowledge didn't matter one bit. When you are staring into your own horse's 

swollen snakebit face, you forget everything you've ever learned, and the first thing you do is panic.

The second thing you do is get your vet on the phone. Then the vet talks you back from the ledge

and comes up with a plan. In Hank's case, the plan was: ice if he would tolerate it, 

10ccs of banamine, 2 grams of bute, keep him calm and quiet, and above all, 

don't let his airways close up if the swelling gets worse. That would mean 

having to stick a long hunk of hose up Hank's nostril, and I truly doubted 

if I could do that safely by myself. 

Once I got all the anti-inflammatories in him, the all-night vigil began, watching and waiting, 

hoping and praying that I would not have to stick a hunk of hose up his nose. 

I've circled the area of the bite in the picture above - there are two tiny punctures. 

I have no idea what kind of snake bit him.

I contained Lucy, George and Alan in the corral so that Hank wouldn't panic in the absence of his herd.

Throughout the night, they never left his side. I was touched by their attentiveness

until I figured out what they really wanted was to slurp up the slobber and whatever else was

coming out of Hank's nose. That's Lucy standing behind Hank, licking slobber off the pipe.

Alan is waiting for the next batch to drip out his mouth. It was all very weird and disgusting,

but it gave me something to focus on besides Hank's swollen face.

I took pictures throughout the night to help me figure out if the swelling 

was getting worse or better. 

By daybreak, it was definitely worse but had moved toward his jawline; 

Hank's left nasal passage was still relatively normal. We both breathed a little better 

thinking the hunk of hose would not be needed. I checked in with the vet, who said

I could give him more pain meds and offer him breakfast. 

Eating was difficult but Hank being Hank found a way. I felt comfortable enough with his progress

to leave Lucy in charge while I drove to the vet clinic for antibiotics, which would ward off 

any infection from the bite. My new concern at this point was that Hank hadn't pooped 

since this all started 16 hours ago. Then again, he hadn't eaten, so I figured he would poop eventually.

It was a four-hour round trip to the clinic, and even though I knew Hank would be okay

in my absence, it was still a huge relief to find him bright-eyed and standing when I got home.

But he still hadn't pooped. Ugh. I would worry about that next. 

First I had to worry about injecting 30ccs of penicillin in his butt.

I give Hank injections all the time, but in his neck and 10ccs at the most.

This procedure was more involved because of the amount and the risks,

and because I could barely get my hand around the huge syringe.

But being the trouper he is, Hank stood like a statue while I bumbled around his behind

and we got 'r done. He'll get the penicillan shot two more times, 

plus he'll also be on oral antibiotics for a week.

So now it's almost 21 hours since he's pooped. He's been eating, albeit slowly,

and what goes in has to come out, and if you're a horse, that usually happens

a dozen times a day. I decided to take him for a short walk. We hadn't gone more than

ten steps into the corral and voila! Why didn't I think of that hours ago?

Apparently Hank's a neat freak and doesn't like to poop in his stall. 

He still surprises me after all these years.

It's now 24 hours since this adventure began. I think/hope the worst is behind us.

Snake bites are a fact of life for equines who are turned out on rangeland. 

Frankly I'm surprised it's taken 10 years for us to experience our first one.

Maybe those awful grazing muzzles I force the donkeys to wear have helped improve our odds.

Hank in the springtime

 

Waking up with the herd

Saturday encore ~ Handsome Hank

I've been asked how Hank came into my life so I went way back in the blog archives 

and found this post from September 2008. 

***

When Lyle was just a yearling and his mama died (click here for those details), I was rushed to find another horse to: 1) teach Lyle how to be a horse, 2) keep Lyle company, and 3) be my riding horse until Lyle was old enough and saddle-trained.

Hank was advertised on the internet: Looking for a new partner? This may be the one! Cochise is an 8 year old 15.1 hand bay Paint gelding, ridden and shown Western and English by a young girl, who has moved on to jumping. A breeze to load and clip, he's a healthy easy keeper with a sweet and calm disposition. He's great on the trails and gets along well with other horses.

He turned out to be most of those things and a few more: barn sour, always walks off when you try to mount, sees dead people along the trail. In the seven years we've been together, Hank has taught me to be a horseperson. I had no choice. It was either that or die.

Soon after the third time Hank arrived home without me on his back, I hauled him to our first training clinic, with a local horseman named Randall Davis. There were about 20 participants, each with their own problem horse. Randall wanted to try something at the beginning of the clinic, but only if all participants agreed. If even one of us said no, we wouldn't do the exercise. He wanted to turn all the horses loose together in the arena. 

Since I was certain my handsome Hank would get kicked, maimed or otherwise hurt very badly, I was the lone hold-out. But Randall assured me he would stay in the arena and keep all the horses moving so none of them would get injured. I relented. All of us unhaltered our horses and stepped out of the arena.

Within the first few minutes, as the horses ran around sniffing, snorting, bucking, farting, and otherwise carrying on, the herd sorted itself out. And without so much as one kick, Hank established himself as the leader of all 20 horses – the alpha, the don't-you-dare-mess-with-me-'cause-I'm-in-charge-here horse. I was stunned. Randall came over to me and said, "Hank is the 5-star general out there. You know what that means?" I shook my head no. "It means you have to be the commander in chief."

To train Hank and to get along with him, I would have to be a stronger leader than he was. Yikes. That was a tall order. But finding this out at the beginning of our partnership was the most valuable lesson I could learn. We had our ups and downs those first couple of years – literally – but are best buddies now.

p.s. And I finally taught him to stand still - here's the link to that post.

Spring Cleaning