PeeCheeYou'reSoCute

     Usually we called her PeeChee, but often she heard, "PeeChee, you're so cute, said very fast, as if the expression was one word.  So when it came time to get her registration papers, her official name became PeeCheeYou'reSoCute.

    Some horses and ponies in my care are dearer to my heart than others.  It can't be helped.  People are emotional.  I love all my animals, but PeeChee has to be listed with those who became especially dear.

    I had purchased her on a whim, intending her for a child sometime in the future.  (See the whole story in my book The Hoofbeats of My Heart.)  I discovered I was the child in the pony's future.  At the time, I weighed no more than many preteens, and PeeChee was young and full of vim and vigor.  She was what we describe as a "forward thinking" horse because she was constantly trying to move into a faster gait.  A rider didn't ask her to go faster; they let her. She was not, by most standards, the perfect children's pony.  However she suited me well, and I discovered a love of the smaller breeds.  A pony who was only slightly over 11 hands could be more of a challenge than a 15.2 Quarter Horse.

    White horses are usually described as grey.  So, even though PeeChee was mostly white, her papers call her grey: "Grey with sprinkles of Appy mottling and whispers of golden spots on her rump."

    Thirty years ago, when PeeChee and I were forging our partnership, I was engaged in breeding horses, especially Miniature Horses, but almost all of our animals had registration papers.  For some reason, I seemed to think papers were important, and in many respects, that was true.  When it came to breeding, having registered animals kept us viable in a competitive market.  In fact, some of our horses, like my darling Splash, were double registered.

    Now, many years later, I haven't bothered to transfer papers on any of my horses who are registered.   Bills of sale are all that matter to me.  I have no intentions of breeding or selling, I only want proof that the animals are part of my family.

    However, in PeeChee's day those papers wee important.  PeeChee was of uncertain ancestry.  She was an example that papers don't make the horse.  I was taking dressage lessons, riding her, and showing her.  To me she was perfection.

    I wanted her to have papers.

    I don't remember where I saw the advertisement for the Universal Perkehner Society.  Apparently, I wasn't the only person chasing equine registration papers.  This organization had decided that they would register horses with mixed bloodlines for fun.  I believe they based their business on a personality-plus horse called Perky owned by one of the founding owners. For a small fee, they were willing to create a certificate for horses or ponies with extra personality quirks.  My PeeChee certainly qualified.

     The registration came, and PeeChee was now officially a part-Perkehner.  I was pleased.  In fact, very pleased.  All of the other registration papers and bills of sale for my equines are jumbled together in a bureau drawer.  PeeChee's certificate is framed, and hangs proudly displayed on my computer room wall, along with my scholastic degrees. I smile through tears as I look at it.  PeeChee was so incredibly special.

    She gave me joy.

    She definitely qualified as a part Perkehner.  I had no trouble listing three personality qualities that set her apart from most horses.  First of all was her insistence that her riders sat with a balanced seat.  Perhaps, because she was small, she did not want to carry a lop-sided load on her back.  She only protested about my weight alignment once, but she sure would take advantage of any of my students who were not centered or focused.  Incorrect posture, or indulging a wandering mind were enough for her to deposit a rider on the ground.  Secondly, PeeChee did not like human males.  She avoided them, and she was nimble enough to stay out of their way.  Females, though, were okay with her, but she did expect them to carry treats.  Her last peculiarity had to do with male equines, either geldings or stallions.  She attracted them, more so than other mares.  I had to keep stallions away from her, but the geldings were devoted followers.  PeeChee appeared to encourage them, too.  She was a constant flirt.  Perhaps I should have let her have a foal, but that is hindsight.

    PeeChee's certification came in 1995.  I can hardly believe 30 years have passed.  I did wonder if the Universal Perkehner Society still exists.  Apparently, it is gone.  Too bad.  It served a purpose for people like me with delightful mixed breed equines who deserve recognition.

    PeeChee passed away from cancer at least 20 years ago.  I still mourn her, and she haunts my barn.

    PeeChee started me on a love affair with ponies - any pony.  Before PeeChee I was not aware that huge personalities come in the smaller sizes.

    I love you, PeeCheeYou'reSoCute.

 

Healing

         I have heard it three times now.  Medical professionals have assured me, "The horses will help you heal.

    I am facing surgery.

    I definitely will be in need of healing.

    Friendly Horse Acres exists to help heal, especially learning disabled folks.  The mission statement is: Horses and humans healing each other physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I have run the organization for over 30 years.  I have seen the healing work.

    The business started by accident.  My husband and I didn't know we were helping young people in the community until the local school representative notified us with a personal visit.  A counselor reported that we were making a difference in the lives of some troubled teens, especially those with high functioning autism and ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder).  Originally, the school even paid us to work with a student.  The encouragement was incentive enough to take steps to become a non-profit.

    Over the years we have found equines can make a difference in lives.

    Children who have trouble focusing become quiet and less anxious as they learn how to please the horses.  Grooming the animals, especially, seems to make a difference.  This is apparent with children and young people who don't usually like to be touched.  They relish the opportunity to be with the horses, and to have physical contact.  Some of them enjoy riding, but not all.  When they do ride, these individuals often prefer to ride bareback.  The contact with an equine partner is important.  These riders don't want the interference of a saddle.

    For some young folks with physical disabilities, the opportunity to work with large animals is a confidence booster.  Although we are not equipped to work with wheelchair bound folks, we do work with some physical challenges, and these youngsters have become devoted fans of the horses.

    In today's challenging, contentious world, people who suffer from depression come to the horses to feel better.  Young people, especially, benefit.  The horses are a source of comfort.  I have regularly heard that our horse farm is a "happy place."  Touching a horse has been a way to lower blood pressure and remove depression.

    Children are not the only people who benefit from the horses.  I had a woman,who was coming to our town to attend AA meetings, become a regular visitor.  She asked to stop by on her way home to be with the horses.  Her favorite was our Exmoor stallion, Devon.  I would isolate him from his mares, and leave him with his human.  She stayed with him for at least an hour.  I don't know what they talked about, but both the pony and human were happy to be with each other.  When she left, she pointed out, "He does more for me than the meeting."  She spoke truth.  She remained drugs free until she passed away years later.  We always stayed in touch even when she left the state.

                                                                  Devon

I know there has been a great deal of literature about how horses can heal.  I certainly can't dispute it, but I do need to point out that horses do not always create a cure.

    I have had several children, and even adults, who do no react positively to the horses.  Some are indifferent, and some are frightened, even by the Miniature Horses, let alone a full-sized or a draft horse.

    I had at least one student who, as a very young child, seemed to react positively to the horses.  However, as she matured, she became increasingly agitated.  The horses did not calm her.  Eventually, she  became violent.  She kicked and punched the horses and pulled their tails when we lost control of her.  I had to put an end to her visits.  The animals' safety is my responsibility.  Horses do not heal everyone.

    I the past, when the insurance companies permitted us to make visits, we took animals to various venues where they could offer their presence to the public.  Did they pass along healing vibes?  I'm sure they did.  I do not think they consciously try to comfort humans.  They just do.

    I know they have been good for my health over the years.  People have pointed out that my numerical age by no means matches my activity age.  With as many as 21 equines to care for at any one time, I have to be very active.  Right now there are "only" seven horses and ponies in my care.  They require that I am out with them a minimum of three times a day, and usually more often than that.  Sure, I have help on occasion.  But, I don't have to worry about being inactive.  There are days, when the weather is blustery, I would sooner stay in the warm house.  I can't.  I have chosen to make my horses my responsibility.

    I get to pat them and reassure them that I care every day.  They know me.  They trust me.

    They keep me young.

    Except the years have rolled along, and my numerical numbers have finally caught up with me.  I may move like I am still in my 40s or 50s, but my body is wearing down.

    So, my health is not what it used to be.  My immune system is not as strong as in years past.

    I need an operation.  I will need help.  I am counting on the equines in my backyard to help me heal.  The medical professionals indicate that can happen.

    Horses are healers. 

Granny

    Some stories are worth repeating.  When I started writing my newspaper column 30 years ago, I wrote one story that was picked up by a number of periodicals.  It struck a chord with editors, and I hope with readers.  I feel that it is worth repeating in this blog.  To those of you who have read it in another format, I hope you enjoy it here.

                                                             Granny

     Granny Lavery always insisted I got my love of horses from her.  When I was younger, I didn't understand how that could be possible.  I never saw my grandmother ride a horse.  I seldom saw her even pet one.  She just said they were pretty whenever she happened to see one.  Anyone could do that.

    I didn't understand that sometimes life is something to be survived, and that the choices offered can be extremely narrow.  I had to reach my forties before I could appreciate what my grandmother had to endure. 

    She was a Canadian prairie farm girl born to a family with too many daughters.  When she was 15, she was placed with a West Coast family in the city of New Westminster, British Columbia, as a maid.  She was a child, on her own.

    My mother has a black-and-white photograph of a beautiful young woman.  I believe it hardly does my grandmother justice.  She had mounds of the richest, darkest auburn hair.  I know, because I saw a lock in one of her jewelry drawers, and I envied the color.

    She married the handsomest young man in town.  Papa was an adoring husband and an indulgent father, but the income of a longshoreman was uncertain.

    Granny was tough.  With intelligence and determination, she pushed her husband and their two children to get ahead.  She had time only for what she had to do to better the circumstances of her family.  There was no place in her life for horses.  When a lot of families were losing ground during the Depression, Granny was managing to gradually put some money in the bank.  She was shrewd.

    My love for horses became evident.  I heard Granny tell my mother, "She gets that from me, Silvia."  I scoffed.

    Years passed.  Granny, long a widow, had to give up her apartment.  She moved into a nursing home.  My husband and I were starting to accumulate our herd of horses.

    She was in her nineties, and she insisted, "I'm going to Laverne's farm in Washington.  I want to see her horses."

    We talked about going to get her.  One day a cousin offered to bring her.  My folks would come as support.

    So she came.  The three-hour drive had increased her constant pain, and she arrived crotchety and slightly disoriented.  I wasn't sure the trip had been the best idea.

    She sat in her wheelchair on our patio, and we brought each of our animals up to her to touch.  She was obviously tired, and yet the rabbits, the cats, and the dog were all patted.  Then we led up the seven ponies and horses.  I was concerned that they would balk at coming to the shriveled woman with the unsteady hands, seated in a moving chair.

    I didn't give them credit for their understanding.  None of them hesitated.  It was as if they knew they were receiving a blessing.  They were the horses she never had.

    If I had any doubts as to whether Granny enjoyed the journey she was determined to make before she died, I lost them when my mother called.  She had been talking to her minister who told her, "I went to see your mother, Silvia.  She's slipping very rapidly.  She was very confused.  She seemed to think she had been to Laverne's.  She was talking about the horses."

    Mum assured him that my grandmother's mind was as sharp as ever, even if her physical health was deteriorating daily.

    We knew it would.  Granny's last wish was to see the horses, and that was done.  She died within the year.

    I know my grandmother loved horses.  My horses are her legacy. 

Medications

    Medications have become a part of my personal life. Apparently, getting older is about pills.  

    My own reliance on drugs has made me aware that, over the years, many medications have been part of my horse keeping.  I am amazed at how often a veterinarian has prescribed medications for my horses.

    Sitting on the kitchen counter, in a corner, is a large jar of apple flavored electrolytes, and beside it, a tall tub of orange flavored Metamucil.   Both of these products are for my horses, not me.  They are not prescription drugs, but they certainly are veterinarian recommended.

    Also, in the kitchen, I have a drawer dedicated to the various drugs I give to my animals.  A few are for dogs or cats, but most are part of the collection of medicines for my horses. 

    As I rooted through the drawer, I realized I should trash a number of the contents.  Some should hit the garbage can because they are out of date, and a few are drugs I don't recognize.  Where did I get them?  What are they for?  And should I throw them away when I might need them? 

    The two drugs that I use most often are phenylbutazone and banamine.   I have the "bute" in two forms: powder and pills.  I use the powder most often because it is the easiest to get the horse to swallow. I think of bute as horse aspirin.  Banamine is a stronger sedative.  I have it in liquid form, and the small amount I have on hand is out of date.  I should chuck it, but, well, I haven't.

    Recently, since Boudicca has foundered, I have many medications for her.  These drugs include gabapentin, ertugliflozin, equine insulin resistance supplement, and a bottle of acetaminophen acquired from Costco.  I was rather surprised that generic Tylenol is useful for horses.  I have discovered it dissolves nicely in a syringe with water.  For Boudicca, it is a great pain reducer, although she needs 11 tablets for a dose.

    I wasn't surprised to find two syringes of dormosedan gel.  I was a little flummoxed to discover that both of them were open.  We use the gel to relax the horses who are anxious when we do their feet.  My husband, who does the trimming, is a fan of the stuff, but I'm not.  It has to be administered under the horses's tongue.  Only Bay is willing to cooperate, and even at that, only part of the time.  Also, it takes about 20 minutes to make a horse drowsy.  Meanwhile, I'm exhausted from try to apply it correctly. 

    I found a blue vial full of big pills.  It is labeled SMZ.  What?  I couldn't recall what it was until I found an older bottle labeled sulfamethoxazole and trimethoprim tablets.  "Ah, ha," I thought.  We are talking sulfa drugs.  SMZ is a veterinarian's acronym  Okay, I have an old bottle and a new vial.  These pills are an antibiotic.  Over the years they have been useful for multiple equines.

    I found an old brown bottle with injectable B12  vitamins.  I probably should throw it away, but it does not have an expiration date.  I'll have to mention it to one of our veterinarians.  I knew I used it, in the past, on horses who have appeared a little under the weather.

    Another medicine without an expiration date is a large syringe printed with bold type as a digestive paste.  I have obviously used it, because it is missing the cap.  I think it is something I picked up in case of mild colic.  Probably, I should trash it.

    Another large syringe is labeled bio-sponge.  I sure knew what that is.  Our last, retired veterinarian, encouraged me to keep it on hand for a horse with diarrhea.  I believe, at one point, I had a couple of them in the drawer, and I used one.  I'm not sure what horse was involved, but I know the stuff worked.

 

 

    In a small cardboard box, I found a half-used tube of neomycin and polymyxin B sulfates and bacitracin zinc. I recognized it immediately.  Many years ago our last Exmoor Pony suddenly had a serious eye wound.  We never discovered how it happened, but she eventually went blind in the injured eye.  I spent months treating her.  For an Exmoor Pony, she was surprisingly cooperative as I daily poked her in the corner of her eye.  She lived for many more years with vision in only one beautiful orb.

    I found some dexamethasone used to reduce inflammation.  Both containers were out of date.  I trashed them.

    Two bottles were a mystery.  I don't remember where I got them, and both are unopened.  One is glucosamine chondroitin MSM and the other is dimethyl sulfoxide (DMSO).  Hmm.  Mystery drugs.

    It astonishes me how much my veterinarians have trusted me over the years, and how often I have had to nurse my horses.

    Although, in this blog article I have focused on the medication in my house, I also have jars in the main barn, and in the tack room.  I have several forms of aloe vera cream scattered about.  I'm a firm believer in the efficacy of the the stuff for  minor scrapes.  

    Recently my husband noted we are running low on the iodine solution he used on hooves when he cuts too close.

    Sitting on the hay bales are Bay's "Cough Free," vitamin E, and digestive aid powder.  

    Drugs all over.

    I probably should go through the other various medications we have accumulated elsewhere on the premises, but one step at a time.  It's amazing the quantity of over 30 years.

    Maybe I should set up a pharmacy.  One more thing on my to-do list. 

 

 

Bay

     Thank you, folks, for joining me for another interview with one of the horses who live at Friendly Horse Acres.  The plan is to eventually get this discussion added to the podcast planned for the future.  It is to be called "Talking Horses."

    Today I am having a conversation with Bay, an Arab of unregistered breeding.  She asked, in fact, demanded, to be interviewed. 

    So, Bay, thank you for talking to me today. I would like to start by asking you why you were so determined to be interviewed.

Bay

Well, you interviewed that silly little pony, Spice.  He's okay, but I am the ambassador of this place.  You really should have interviewed me first.  I'm the one people coo over, and say, "She's so pretty."  You really need to get your priorities straight.  

Bay (quietly)

Plus, I'm a princess.  

Laverne

Why do you call yourself an ambassador?  You no longer do any of the lessons.

Bay

To begin,  I'm the first one to come to the fence when new people arrive at the farm.  I'm always willing to approach people, even when they are tentative.  The pat me and say, "I like this one."  Also, let's get this straight.  I do some of the lessons.  For years I have modeled when you do the anatomy of the horse with the students.  I do get impatient towards the end of the lesson, but that is more your fault.  You can take too long.  Even you have to admit the students are losing focus by the end of the session. 

Laverne

Okay.  You do have a point.

Let's go back to the beginning, when you first joined the farm  Do you remember where you got your name?

Bay

Of course I remember.  I had only been at Friendly Horse Acres for a day or so, and I was deciding I liked it.  I was by myself in a grassy run with other horses near me on the other side of the fence.  At my old place I was stalled a lot.  They called me "Baby," but I knew that wasn't very dignified.  You came out to see me.  I was way at the other end of the run and you called "Ba-a-y..."  I lifted my head and came to you because I'm a beautiful bay color and Bay is a good name.  We agreed.

Laverne

Bay, perhaps you should explain why you live by yourself in the arena.  

Bay

As you know, that is a sad story.  I did begin at the farm as a saddle horse, but you noticed I was often distressed when I carried a rider.  Sometimes I was okay, but on other days I would give a little crow hop of protest.  I was never mean about it, and I never dumped my riders - unlike Spice.  You called the vet and he reported that I had ulcers.  Some days I was comfortable, and some days I was not.  You did start to to train me as a carriage horse so I wouldn't have weight on my back.  That was okay.  I didn't dislike the work.  However, I started to go lame.  The veterinarian said I had arthritis, and a club foot.  You also noted that I have allergies.  I break out in hives when I'm exposed to chemicals and I cough in the dust.  You give me medication in my morning mash for all those conditions.

Then there is a problem with bully horses.  I'm afraid of some of the other horses.  Dear Rain was a good friend, but Snickers picked on me, and I was terribly nervous.  A few of the other horses scared me, too.  I wouldn't come to the barn for food or water.

Also, some winters where very cold.  The ground froze in the pastures.  I was afraid to move.  You started to put me in the covered arena to feed me.  Eventually, I showed that I could be happy by myself.  I could eat and drink, and I didn't get sick so often because my stress wasn't as high.

Laverne

Don't you get lonely?

Bay

Sometimes.  A little.  You have tried me with other horses.  I was with Boudicca for a short time.  I don't know why, but she didn't like me.  She kept breaking the electric fence to get away from me.  It's a shame because I'm not afraid of ponies, and she's a petite Shetland.  Oh, well.  I understand we can't all get along.

I do enjoy when you have lessons, and extra people come.  That is when I shine.  I enjoy introducing myself.  Usually, I can convince someone to brush me.

Laverne

What is your favorite part of the lessons?

Bay

The horse treats.  Absolutely.  I demand a toll every time you go by me.  Giggle.  

Laverne

Anything else you especially like?

Bay

I'm fond of discovering you have left the grooming tools in the arena, unprotected.  I have a great time nosing them out of the caddy and spreading them on the ground.  I'll do the same thing if you leave a saddle on the mounting block.  It's fun to chuck it around.  Sometimes I even manage to find a treat or two that has been hidden.  Knocking things about is fun, and often rewarding.

Laverne

Anything you would like to add?

Bay

Can I have a treat?  And don't forget to feed me first and meal time.  I always call out to you when you step out the back door.  I don't believe an ambassador should miss any meals.

Bay (quietly)

Especially not princesses.

Laverne

Thank you for talking to me, Bay.  We appreciate you.

    And thank you, folks, for joining me for another "Talking Horses."    

   

  

Raison d'etre

        I recently had an experience where I had to question why I lived.  Even if I wanted to live.  I surprised myself with the immediacy of my answer, but it felt entirely true, as if I suddenly knew myself.  Perhaps it won't come as a surprise to those who know me, but I did startle myself with the passion that the knowledge elicited.

    I live because of my horses.  It's simple, but part of the core of my being.

    I adore my family, and I am constantly curious about what my grandchildren will do next.  They are a source of wonder and delight.

    However, I get out of bed in the morning to be with my horses.  I think I would happily sleep until noon if I didn't have a farm of horses and ponies to greet me with delight because I am up, ready to toss them some hay.

    I grumble, sometimes, when my day is broken into time blocks with lessons for children who want to be with horses.  But really, when I carefully think about those sessions, I realize they make my days important.  I want to pass on what I feel, and teaching is one way to share my passion with others.

    Years ago I wrote a newspaper column, and I included a story about my grandmother coming to visit my horses before she passed away.  She insisted I got my love of horses from her.  True?  I'm not sure.  How do we know what is in another's heart?  However, my grandmother seemed to believe that a part of her legacy was passing on a kinship with horses to me. 

    Now, I am aware that I am working on my own legacy.  I, too, am trying to spread my love of animals to others.  I do it by teaching, sharing, living it, and, yes, writing about the horses.  This blog, too, is legacy.

    I have been incredibly lucky with my life.  I was born into a loving family, in a country (Canada) that embraces freedom and a level of manners that has helped me all my life.  I fell into a lifestyle with horses; that is what my soul needed to make each day worth embracing.  My marriage, too, has supported a life with horses.  I have a husband who tolerates my passion, although it is not his.  He has managed to keep us financially able to maintain the animals. 

    I am repeating myself, but it is important to know I try to share my life with others who need equines in their life.

    Facing my mortality is challenging.  It is scary in many respects.  In years, I have already had more birthdays than both my parents - but not my grandmothers.  They both were productive in their 80s, and even in their early 90s.  Ultimately, pneumonia took them.  I can only hope that the shot I received a few years ago has mitigated part of my own susceptibility to that bug.

    No matter.  I have definitely reached the downside of the slop of life, and the slide is picking up speed.  If I want to accomplish more, I have to be ready to do it now.

    My bucket list is not long.  I have considered getting my PhD.   Should I?  Maybe.  I have things to say.  I want to go to Scotland to see the Aberdeen area where my father's family originated.

    I also intend to do more blogging and podcasting, especially about horses.  I can do this.  In fact, I am already scooping this goal out of the bucket, and making it a part of my life.  With some technical help,  I can get the podcasting going.  My son, especially, has encouraged me to join the YouTube generation.

    Meanwhile, there is one big goal in the bucket.  I need to ride again.  Do I want to return to the horse show world?  That one is not really in the bucket.  I haven't ridden since our beloved Skeeter passed away.  However, I keep telling everyone that Summer is as close to the perfect horse as any in existence.  Her pony companion, Rosie, reminds me of my precious PeeChee.  I rode PeeChee with joy.  I like ponies.  They have a way of moving that suits me.  So, perhaps...Rosie.

    When I was being checked into the hospital, the nurse asked me a series of questions, and one brought me to the edge of tears, not because of how I personally feel, but because I know that others don't share my delight in life.  She asked, "Do you ever hope that when you go to sleep, you won't wake up?"  I was stunned.  I couldn't answer, and the nurse knew at once it was because for me, the desire to never wake up, is not part of who I am.  I have horses waiting for me, depending on me.  Yes, I want/need to wake up.  Every day.  Always.

    And I want to have many more days to enjoy.  I want my interests, my family, and I want to be with my animals, especially my horses.

    I know that makes me fortunate.  I wish everyone had a passion and a reason to want to wake up.

    I do. 

     

     

     

Laminitis

    I wish I didn't know as much as I do about laminitis in horses.  Unfortunately, over the years, I have seen too much of it, and right now one of my ponies is presenting me with the worst case in my experience.

    For those unfamiliar with the disease, it is a form of lameness that can occur in horses and ponies because of too much grass high in sugar, grain overload, work over hard ground, stress and/or a metabolic disorder involving insulin resistance.  Any combination of these conditions can result in laminitis.

    Lameness, as I stated is the primary symptom.  A horse or pony with laminitis is reluctant to move, and is in obvious pain.  They have good reason to act as if they are in excruciating pain - they are.  It hurts to stand or walk, and often they will be found lying down.

    Some breeds are more susceptible to laminitis, and Shetland Ponies are in that number.  I include Miniature Horsses as prone to the condition because they are vertically challenged Shetlands.

    I have myself to blame for some of the laminitis that happened with our Miniature Horses.  It is too easy to overfeed the little darlings.

    Until I had a small herd of Miniature Horses, the first case of laminitis I had touch my life was through a friend who pastured a Welsh Pony (another susceptible breed.)  He ingested way too much fresh spring grass.  I knew his situation was serious, and I remember helping my friend by finding a way to get him off the pasture, and soaking his feet in ice water.  He recovered months later.

    Once I had Miniature Horses, I was doomed to have my own animals suffer from the disease.  In every case, spring or fall grass was the culprit, although I also was guilty of generous feeding. At  the time, the treatment was: no pasture grass, ice soaks, stall confinement, and local hay.  A good farrier was a must because the hooves had to be properly trimmed.

    A few years later my veterinarian sent me a laminitis study showing that alfalfa hay was not the problem, and since that has always been our feed of choice, I felt a bit better about my grocery regime.

    However, the fresh grass, and my generous hand with the hay would create problems.  My beloved Spice, a Welsh/Shetland cross, was somewhat doomed by his genetic makeup.  Both breeds are susceptible to laminitis.  He had always been an easy keeper with a rolly-polly build.  In middle age he developed the worst case of laminitis I had nursed.  I recall leading him to a stall, weeping as I urged him to a grass-less area.  He reluctantly followed, stumbling and hobbling in pain.  I wasn't sure it was fair to have him endure that much agony.  

    At the time, we had lost our farrier, and my husband was doing all the trimming on our horses.  He started watching YouTube videos, studying professionals working with laminitic hores.

    Success!  Immediately after his trim, Spice started walking with an easier stride.  Although it took time, he gradually improved.  Today, he is completely free of laminitis.  Unfortunately, he has developed cushing's syndrome, but that is another condition, common in older equines, and unrelated to laminitis.

    Poor Boudicca does not share Spice's recovery story - at least not yet.  The spring before last she developed mild symptoms of laminitis in her front feet.  I immediately restricted her diet, and she seemed to recover - marginally.  She had good days, and some when she moved with hesitation.   Then winter slammed us.  We had little rain to soften the ground, and a lot of freezing.  For Boudicca, it was like walking on unrelenting concrete.  We brought in wood shavings to cushion her feet.  Once again, there was a slight improvement.  I was hopeful.

    When our vet came in the late spring to give all our horses their shots and dewormer, Dr. Leydens was very concerned about Boudicca.  She did not want to overwhelm the pony's system, so Boudicca did not get shots, just dewormer.  Later, our kind vet sent over some Easy Boots that had been donated to Northwest Equine Veterinary Associates.  Unfortunately, they were too small for my Shetland, but I  started shopping.

                                 Boudicca wearing her boots with Spice behind her

 A few years ago, boots for horses and ponies were extremely expensive and customized.  They were also awkward to put on and pull off.  Not so today I discovered.  There are many makes and models and they are no more difficult to
order online than people shoes.  I found my best deal with Chewy.  The company assured me the two front boots could be returned if they didn't fit.  They did.  Boudicca took to her new sneakers with alacrity.  They were reasonably easy to put on with their velcro attachments, and I can quickly pull them off to clean. 

    For Boudicca, the worst was yet to come.  Late this spring, rain threatened.  I decided to stall Boudicca and her companion, Spice.  Their stall has a little turnout.  I have tried to shut the stall door to the outside, but Spice is too clever for Boudicca's good.  He has learned how to open the latch and push his way out.  I checked the turnout and decided that because it was small, with little edible greenery, it would be okay for the ponies for one night.  Since the ground was going to be soft, I removed Boudicca's sneakers.

    That was two bad mistakes.  Very bad.  In the morning, it was obvious Boudicca was suffering.  Her boots went back on, and she was in her dry lot area, along with Spice.

    Her condition got a little better.  A little.

    Then came the Fourth of July.  Our neighbors went crazy with loud noises.  Remember stress also brings on laminitis.

    A few days later, Boudicca was down.  I had never seen her so bad.  I called the veterinarian, and the office determined it was an emergency.  Dr. Tessa Van Diest arrived.  (She assured me I could call her Dr. Tessa.)  When I checked her bio, I found she was excellent with lameness.  She is.

    Dr Tessa gave Boudicca pain blocker shots and did X-rays in our arena.  (Changing technology boggles my mind.)  Boudicca's prognosis is not great, but it isn't the worst either.  Her disease can better be described as founder since the pictures showed the laminae in her feet were inflamed and rotated.  Bad.  But Dr. Tessa was not totally unoptimistic.

    The vet put Boudicca on drugs.  She was put on Gabapentin, Phenylbutazone and a truckload of acetaminophen a day.  Also, because laminitis has similarities to diabetes in humans she gets Ertugliflozin to maintain her insulin levels.

    She is moving easier - enough to boss Spice around.

    More X-rays come in a few weeks, and we will continue trimming her feet, especially her toes.

    Laminitis is dreadful, but I'm hopeful for Boudicca.

    Meanwhile,  I've notices my gaited mare's neck is a little cresty (a laminitis indicator.)   I think I better cut back on the groceries.