Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Hunt-An excerpt from Reflections From the Hot Zone
Dressed for success in a trim beige skirt, white starched shirt and sensible pumps, Sylvia entered the office of McCray, Snyder, Fieldstone, Chang and Mendez. She figured a firm with names like that on the door wouldn’t discriminate against anyone. This would be her sixth interview. At the first five, people were kind, but in the end turned her away. Over the phone they’d all sounded enthused, but when they met in person the job never seemed to fit. At least to them she didn’t fit. She thought any and all of them would be right up her alley.
This firm was for movers and shakers. Her spirits rose. She could move and shake with the best of them. Then her spirits fell. Her interview wasn’t with one of the politically inclusive names on the door, but, with a plain Mr. Jones, sitting behind a plain wood desk, looking plain bored.
“It’s a filing clerk position for God’s sake. Surely, I’m qualified for that?” Sylvia felt sweat break out under her arms.
“I’m sure you are. It’s just…” The man paused, looked around. “It’s a lot of bending up and down, lifting heavy law books. We’re looking for someone not quite so…” He seemed to catch himself. “I know at my age, and we look to be in the same generation,” he smiled, “the knees don’t work as well as they used to.” He abruptly shut her folder. “Anyway, we feel you’re over qualified. Sorry, it was nice meeting you.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.
Sylvia stood up, shook his hand, walked numbly out of the room. Then she stopped. Her chest burned. The heat climbed. What was she doing? Pivoting on one sensible shoe, she marched back into his office. Shut the door.
“Mr. Jones?”
The man looked up. “Yes?”
“Before you turn me down, I think there’s a few things you should know. First, I really need a job.” Sylvia’s voice rustled like silk sheets. She ran a hand over her hip and then up her side.
Mr. Jones rose, in more ways than one, Sylvia was pleased to see. She quirked a finger. “Come here.” He moved around the desk. She sidled past him and sat in his chair. When he started toward her she shook her head. “Don’t move. I promise you’ll never forget what’s coming next.” Her tongue darted out, moistened her lips.
The man was practically panting. He began to tug at his tie.
Sylvia smiled. “I’ve had a chance to think about what you said, and I want you to know I’m disappointed.”
The man began to stutter. “But, but, I may have an opening…”
Sylvia raised a hand. “Oh, not about the job. The bending up and down, knees not working quite as well as they used to. I just wanted you to know I’m disappointed that you’re having those kind of problems. I’m afraid you’re under-qualified for what I have in mind. We may be from the same generation, but you’re way too far over the hill for me.” She sighed an, stood up. As she brushed past him, she felt him wilt.
Sylvia walked down the long marble hall and through the door into the late afternoon light. That interview went well she thought.
This firm was for movers and shakers. Her spirits rose. She could move and shake with the best of them. Then her spirits fell. Her interview wasn’t with one of the politically inclusive names on the door, but, with a plain Mr. Jones, sitting behind a plain wood desk, looking plain bored.
“It’s a filing clerk position for God’s sake. Surely, I’m qualified for that?” Sylvia felt sweat break out under her arms.
“I’m sure you are. It’s just…” The man paused, looked around. “It’s a lot of bending up and down, lifting heavy law books. We’re looking for someone not quite so…” He seemed to catch himself. “I know at my age, and we look to be in the same generation,” he smiled, “the knees don’t work as well as they used to.” He abruptly shut her folder. “Anyway, we feel you’re over qualified. Sorry, it was nice meeting you.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.
Sylvia stood up, shook his hand, walked numbly out of the room. Then she stopped. Her chest burned. The heat climbed. What was she doing? Pivoting on one sensible shoe, she marched back into his office. Shut the door.
“Mr. Jones?”
The man looked up. “Yes?”
“Before you turn me down, I think there’s a few things you should know. First, I really need a job.” Sylvia’s voice rustled like silk sheets. She ran a hand over her hip and then up her side.
Mr. Jones rose, in more ways than one, Sylvia was pleased to see. She quirked a finger. “Come here.” He moved around the desk. She sidled past him and sat in his chair. When he started toward her she shook her head. “Don’t move. I promise you’ll never forget what’s coming next.” Her tongue darted out, moistened her lips.
The man was practically panting. He began to tug at his tie.
Sylvia smiled. “I’ve had a chance to think about what you said, and I want you to know I’m disappointed.”
The man began to stutter. “But, but, I may have an opening…”
Sylvia raised a hand. “Oh, not about the job. The bending up and down, knees not working quite as well as they used to. I just wanted you to know I’m disappointed that you’re having those kind of problems. I’m afraid you’re under-qualified for what I have in mind. We may be from the same generation, but you’re way too far over the hill for me.” She sighed an, stood up. As she brushed past him, she felt him wilt.
Sylvia walked down the long marble hall and through the door into the late afternoon light. That interview went well she thought.
Friday, January 08, 2010
A Puppy in Need--A true story
One cold day, a foxhunt turned into a rescue mission for one very needy puppy. The history of this puppy’s life before this day is unknown. Abandoned and left to fend for himself, no one knows his owner’s reasoning for not taking him to a shelter or trying to find him a home. This is his story.
On the day in question, a Whipper-in (a person who helps with the hounds on a hunt) alerted the huntsman that a young, ribs showing, black and white puppy was hiding in a pile of trash near a busy road. The puppy appeared to be lost and in need of care. The huntsman, being a true foxhunter and dog lover, immediately asked the road whips to check on the situation.
Two drove to the site. One watched over the puppy, coaxing him out of the bushes with a breakfast bar, while the other raced home to get a crate, some water and dog kibble. Through skilled handling by these two people the puppy regained a bit of trust in humans and even managed to wag his tail. He allowed himself to be gently nestled in the crate. Once there, the road whip rushed him to the local vet for treatment.
Found to be severely dehydrated, starving and in need of extensive medical care, the doctors did what they could to stabilize him and then asked what should be done. The road whip and the huntsman’s natural instinct was to give him the chance he deserved and they accepted responsibility for the puppy’s hospital care.
This is not unusual behavior for foxhunters. Foxhunters are known to be caretakers of the land and its’ animals. They treat the wild as wild, respect the natural survival skills of wild creatures and work hard to preserve the open country and habitats of all animals. They also accept the responsibility of caring for domesticated creatures. Most foxhunters have an ark’s worth of adopted, rescued, and retired pets. The huntsman, being the epitome of a foxhunter, even volunteered to adopt this puppy when and if he became well enough to go to a forever home.
This puppy could have been ignored and left to suffer the lonely fate his previous owner had chosen for him. He needed so little, a gentle hand, food to fill a tummy, water, and he responded with trust and love when offered a helping hand by the hunt members. He showed he appreciated everything with a grateful wag and a gentle lick of his tongue.
Unfortunately, we will never know what a fine dog he might have become. Because of a road whip, a huntsman, a vet and others, this puppy, who suffered so much in his short life, knew the love of caring humans as he left this world. This is the end of his story but if this one small puppy could talk, I think he would say thank you to people like those who help one in need. He would tell us we are lucky to have people like them in our community. The puppy died two days after his rescue.
On the day in question, a Whipper-in (a person who helps with the hounds on a hunt) alerted the huntsman that a young, ribs showing, black and white puppy was hiding in a pile of trash near a busy road. The puppy appeared to be lost and in need of care. The huntsman, being a true foxhunter and dog lover, immediately asked the road whips to check on the situation.
Two drove to the site. One watched over the puppy, coaxing him out of the bushes with a breakfast bar, while the other raced home to get a crate, some water and dog kibble. Through skilled handling by these two people the puppy regained a bit of trust in humans and even managed to wag his tail. He allowed himself to be gently nestled in the crate. Once there, the road whip rushed him to the local vet for treatment.
Found to be severely dehydrated, starving and in need of extensive medical care, the doctors did what they could to stabilize him and then asked what should be done. The road whip and the huntsman’s natural instinct was to give him the chance he deserved and they accepted responsibility for the puppy’s hospital care.
This is not unusual behavior for foxhunters. Foxhunters are known to be caretakers of the land and its’ animals. They treat the wild as wild, respect the natural survival skills of wild creatures and work hard to preserve the open country and habitats of all animals. They also accept the responsibility of caring for domesticated creatures. Most foxhunters have an ark’s worth of adopted, rescued, and retired pets. The huntsman, being the epitome of a foxhunter, even volunteered to adopt this puppy when and if he became well enough to go to a forever home.
This puppy could have been ignored and left to suffer the lonely fate his previous owner had chosen for him. He needed so little, a gentle hand, food to fill a tummy, water, and he responded with trust and love when offered a helping hand by the hunt members. He showed he appreciated everything with a grateful wag and a gentle lick of his tongue.
Unfortunately, we will never know what a fine dog he might have become. Because of a road whip, a huntsman, a vet and others, this puppy, who suffered so much in his short life, knew the love of caring humans as he left this world. This is the end of his story but if this one small puppy could talk, I think he would say thank you to people like those who help one in need. He would tell us we are lucky to have people like them in our community. The puppy died two days after his rescue.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Feeding The Addiction - Editor Unleashed Forums
Go read, enjoy and when the day comes vote!
Feeding The Addiction - Editor Unleashed Forums
Feeding The Addiction - Editor Unleashed Forums
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Cutting through the Crap
is much harder than one would think when you're the writer. Words that I savored like hot caramel sauce when first placed upon the page, still have a cool appeal on the second go around. It's like editing with a demitasse spoon, when what is needed is a backhoe. I've found it can become very tedious.
One would think I could let go of all the extra verbiage, slim this book down to a sleek, bestseller model, but no. It's as hard as dieting. I can be good for a short while. Then, bam, I have to add a few luscious morsels that have popped in my head. It's like eating junk food. Irresistible and deadly.
Okay, I have to keep visualizing these beautiful words as not good for me. Sigh. When will fat be back in? Getting rid of the crap is harder than it looks.
One would think I could let go of all the extra verbiage, slim this book down to a sleek, bestseller model, but no. It's as hard as dieting. I can be good for a short while. Then, bam, I have to add a few luscious morsels that have popped in my head. It's like eating junk food. Irresistible and deadly.
Okay, I have to keep visualizing these beautiful words as not good for me. Sigh. When will fat be back in? Getting rid of the crap is harder than it looks.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Gone Hunting
Yesterday was a riding day and I went foxhunting. It is cubbing season here. That is when we take out the young hounds with the older ones and prepare them for the coming formal season of hunting. They learn to stay with the group, listen to the huntsman, and discover all the scents and sounds of the great outdoors. The goal is not to find game but to train puppies and condition the older hounds.
We hunt early at seven in the morning here, and while getting up in the dark is not on my favorites list, watching the sun rise as I drive to the meet is. The early dew steams in the morning rays creating misty valleys filled with the promise of adventure. I get up before dawn, feed my horses, clean the stalls, groom the one I am going to ride, turn out the others and head to the fixture for the day. A fixture is the place we will meet to hunt.
The hunt is short, young hounds get tired easily, so do out of shape riders. On the way home I marvel at the wonder of it all. The natural interaction of man with his world. Being taken back in time, being reminded we are one of the animal kingdom. Sometimes we lose sight of that in our man-made world. It is good to be reminded of the balance of nature and that we are meant to be a part of that picture.
Did you know that hunters are the best land conservationists? They understand the vital need to keep the wilderness, preserve farmlands, and pure water supply. They know the human's place in the world. Foxhunters will work tirelessly to save the countryside.
Yesterday, I went foxhunting, rode across land that will never be developed. Fell in love, as I do every time, with the beauty of nature and thanked God for creating this natural balancing act that keeps our world a thriving planet.
Gone hunting; when you hear someone say that, thank them for doing their part to preserve your world.
We hunt early at seven in the morning here, and while getting up in the dark is not on my favorites list, watching the sun rise as I drive to the meet is. The early dew steams in the morning rays creating misty valleys filled with the promise of adventure. I get up before dawn, feed my horses, clean the stalls, groom the one I am going to ride, turn out the others and head to the fixture for the day. A fixture is the place we will meet to hunt.
The hunt is short, young hounds get tired easily, so do out of shape riders. On the way home I marvel at the wonder of it all. The natural interaction of man with his world. Being taken back in time, being reminded we are one of the animal kingdom. Sometimes we lose sight of that in our man-made world. It is good to be reminded of the balance of nature and that we are meant to be a part of that picture.
Did you know that hunters are the best land conservationists? They understand the vital need to keep the wilderness, preserve farmlands, and pure water supply. They know the human's place in the world. Foxhunters will work tirelessly to save the countryside.
Yesterday, I went foxhunting, rode across land that will never be developed. Fell in love, as I do every time, with the beauty of nature and thanked God for creating this natural balancing act that keeps our world a thriving planet.
Gone hunting; when you hear someone say that, thank them for doing their part to preserve your world.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
There's a Story Hiding in My Brain
For the past few weeks I've found it hard to concentrate on the novels I'm working on. One is a mystery, "Painted Black", and the other is women's fiction, "Reflections From The Hot Zone." Both books have been fun to write and are now in the rewrite/editing stage. Aha, some would say, you just don't want to do the real work.
While this is true, that isn't the reason I can't concentrate. In side my head there is story growing. It feels like a deep, dark, serious book in the making. Bits and pieces flit by on the screen behind my eyes. I see a frown, hear an argument, smell the grainy scent of alcohol. A character lurks in the shadows, unwilling to show his/herself. Waiting, I feel, until I promise to let the telling be the character's doing.
Does this ever happen to you? It scares me a bit. I'm not sure I'm ready to hear the truth hiding within the fiction. No one told me this would happen when I talked of being a writer.
Ah, I see the character's smile.
While this is true, that isn't the reason I can't concentrate. In side my head there is story growing. It feels like a deep, dark, serious book in the making. Bits and pieces flit by on the screen behind my eyes. I see a frown, hear an argument, smell the grainy scent of alcohol. A character lurks in the shadows, unwilling to show his/herself. Waiting, I feel, until I promise to let the telling be the character's doing.
Does this ever happen to you? It scares me a bit. I'm not sure I'm ready to hear the truth hiding within the fiction. No one told me this would happen when I talked of being a writer.
Ah, I see the character's smile.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Flash 40 contest at Editor Unleashed Results
Happy dancing! My story "Ten One-Hundredths of A Second" made the Anthology and ended up fifth in the popular vote. Most of my buddies made it, too. As promised here is a list of the finalists.
And the winners, listed in alphabetical order, are:
Grand Prize: Fairy Tales, by Ravenne
At Last, neenerspb
Being a Cop, lmckelvy
Blind Justice, TrinityWolf99
The Brain Eaters, Lady Lawyer
Buck and the Twee Fairies of Interstate 20, cubagw
Circles, TheRazor
Defection, drwasy
Dreaming Lies to Change the Truth, kaolin
Fate’s Heavy Hand, jimbernheimer
Food of the Gods, judy b.
Frangible Choices, KeMari
Grief Observed, Laurita
Guardian Demon, JRTomlin
Mirror, Mirror gretaigl
Monday, Selena Kitt
Night Becomes the City, MPBerry
In the Nuthouse, d o’brien
Parklife, AlanBaxter
Pirated Twinkies, soesposito
Pure White, Stephen Book
Reflection, rjkelle
Rough Trade, JRhodes
Running on the Iron Rooster, Michael J.
Sales Call, graywave
Savor the moment, Kupohunter
Sign Language, LCourtland
Sportsmen, JohnOBX
Ten One-hundreds of a Second, DeborahB
The Distraction, Nocdar
The Mercantile Exchange, kenaipi
The Nearest Thing, John Wiswell
The Vial, bentguy
The Vigil of Clouds, Alegra
Time for a Change, Carol
‘Tis the Season, jmar2
Unscrambling Love, Angel Zapata
Wake up, Please, everyhopejd
What’s in a Name, Craven
When Don Cristobal Eduardo Stabbed his Wife and her Lover, Christopher James
Thank you to all for reading and rating stories!
Deborah
And the winners, listed in alphabetical order, are:
Grand Prize: Fairy Tales, by Ravenne
At Last, neenerspb
Being a Cop, lmckelvy
Blind Justice, TrinityWolf99
The Brain Eaters, Lady Lawyer
Buck and the Twee Fairies of Interstate 20, cubagw
Circles, TheRazor
Defection, drwasy
Dreaming Lies to Change the Truth, kaolin
Fate’s Heavy Hand, jimbernheimer
Food of the Gods, judy b.
Frangible Choices, KeMari
Grief Observed, Laurita
Guardian Demon, JRTomlin
Mirror, Mirror gretaigl
Monday, Selena Kitt
Night Becomes the City, MPBerry
In the Nuthouse, d o’brien
Parklife, AlanBaxter
Pirated Twinkies, soesposito
Pure White, Stephen Book
Reflection, rjkelle
Rough Trade, JRhodes
Running on the Iron Rooster, Michael J.
Sales Call, graywave
Savor the moment, Kupohunter
Sign Language, LCourtland
Sportsmen, JohnOBX
Ten One-hundreds of a Second, DeborahB
The Distraction, Nocdar
The Mercantile Exchange, kenaipi
The Nearest Thing, John Wiswell
The Vial, bentguy
The Vigil of Clouds, Alegra
Time for a Change, Carol
‘Tis the Season, jmar2
Unscrambling Love, Angel Zapata
Wake up, Please, everyhopejd
What’s in a Name, Craven
When Don Cristobal Eduardo Stabbed his Wife and her Lover, Christopher James
Thank you to all for reading and rating stories!
Deborah
Monday, June 22, 2009
Flash 40 contest at Editor Unleashed is winding down
and my story "One one-hundreds of a Second" is in the top ten on http://editorunleashed.com/forum/index.php .
A few more days left in the voting phase. Thanks for all that have read my piece! I'm excited for all who entered. If they are like me, they've learned a great deal about writing from reading all the entries. And, about human psychology by watching the ratings ebb and flow. Thanks to Maria and Smashwords for putting this on. I'll be gone when it's over, but will announce who won it all and where I ended up when I return. Best of luck to all my Nudger buds in the contest. Best of luck to everyone.
A few more days left in the voting phase. Thanks for all that have read my piece! I'm excited for all who entered. If they are like me, they've learned a great deal about writing from reading all the entries. And, about human psychology by watching the ratings ebb and flow. Thanks to Maria and Smashwords for putting this on. I'll be gone when it's over, but will announce who won it all and where I ended up when I return. Best of luck to all my Nudger buds in the contest. Best of luck to everyone.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Editor Unleashed
A couple more stories you might enjoy if you get over to EditorUnleashed http://editorunleashed.com/forum/index.php . Jim Bernheimer's, one called Hot Pink Jeans and Ravenne's. Of course there are many that are excellent. These are just some of my favorites. Enjoy and rate your favorites or all of them.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Editor Unleashed
There is a contest on http://editorunleashed.com . I have a story entered. Go and read and tell me what you think. You will have to join to read and vote, but there are some great stories on there. Look for Ten One-hundreds Of A Second, by DeborahB, that's me on page 14 of the contest called Flash Fiction 40. Also, check out my friends, (JRhoades, JohnOBX, both on page 14 with me), Kim (kenaipi; page 13), (drwasy; page 10) and (Margie on page 7).
Look forward to hearing from you.
Deborah
Look forward to hearing from you.
Deborah
Monday, June 01, 2009
Hunter Pace Award
Yesterday, I took my thoroughbred on a hunter pace. This is a marked trail ride that you try to do at the speed of a hunt. It is timed and the closest to the optimum time, unknown to the riders, wins. Everyone wears a number and there is a start judge and a finish judge. I've yet to do well. This time I was determined to finish in a "feel good" place.
My horse, Rustic, decided about a third of the way through that we were going entirely too slow. When I made him walk, he cantered in place, when I made him trot, he cantered almost in place, when I let him canter he sighed with contentment. "At last," I could feel him thinking, "she's gotten the message. Beautiful day, wonderful trails, it's time to thank God by using all the talent He's given us."
How did we place? In our minds we won the biggest smile and happiest horse award, definitely a "feel good" performance. In the minds of the judges, we were way too fast.
My horse, Rustic, decided about a third of the way through that we were going entirely too slow. When I made him walk, he cantered in place, when I made him trot, he cantered almost in place, when I let him canter he sighed with contentment. "At last," I could feel him thinking, "she's gotten the message. Beautiful day, wonderful trails, it's time to thank God by using all the talent He's given us."
How did we place? In our minds we won the biggest smile and happiest horse award, definitely a "feel good" performance. In the minds of the judges, we were way too fast.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Affirmative Action
Brick solid, unyielding
Rain liquid, elusive
Together
Brick holds rain
Rain shelters brick
Rain forms puddle
Brick shimmers, shines
Each is more
Rain liquid, elusive
Together
Brick holds rain
Rain shelters brick
Rain forms puddle
Brick shimmers, shines
Each is more
Sunday, March 29, 2009
What to do?
The sun is out, the horses are in. I really want to go for a ride, but the ground is mud. Deep, deep, mud from four days of rain. I'm not complaining, we've been in drought conditions for four years. Footing like we have outside is not good for horses tendons. They can pull something slipping and sliding around in the muck. Still, I want to go for a ride. What to do?
Monday, March 09, 2009
In The Beginning...
I thought writing a book would be easy. I had a great idea, a good main character, and plenty of enthusiasm. So, computer keys clattering I began my adventure. All went well until I got to the part called "EDITING". Ugh. Ever since, I've been stuck on page one trying to get the Beginning to be THE BEGINNING, hook, line, and reader turning the page eager to read what happens next, agent loves it, yee-haw, it's a best seller, beginning.
I'm not there yet. Do you think I'm trying for too much in the first paragraph?
I'm not there yet. Do you think I'm trying for too much in the first paragraph?
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Bad, Sick Horse Poetry
The sun is shining
The grass is green
If that **** horse
Doesn't get well soon
I think I'll scream
The grass is green
If that **** horse
Doesn't get well soon
I think I'll scream
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Time For a Sick Horse to Get Well!
This is supposed to be a writing day, or at least 2 weeks ago it was supposed to be, but, one of my horses caught a cold. If you aren't a horse person, you might think, big deal. If you are a horse person, you think, I'm glad that's not my horse!
When a horse gets a runny nose, cough and fever, alarm bells go off. They don't do well. Most virus' with these symptoms are highly contagious, so the horse has to be kept away from other horses, you have to make sure you don't carry the germs from the sick guy to the others, and his exercise has to be limited. That means he stays in a stall, and you get to clean it, at our house I get to clean it, over and over again for as long as the horse is sick. It is not fun.
A horse can hemorrhage his lungs coughing and exercise makes him cough more often. That's the reason for stall rest. He can be hand-grazed, where the others aren't allowed to graze. More time for his owner, me in this case, to spend with her precious animal. Standing in the cold, holding the end of a lead-line so he won't romp about. You hope he doesn't decide to do pirouettes from being stall crazy. A 1200lb animal on his hind legs, steel shoes flashing over your head, while you try to hold on to a rope attached to his halter, makes you sweat, but doesn't do much to warm your heart when it's 30 degrees outside.
Sometimes, the virus causes a secondary bacterial infection in the sinus, etc. Then you, me again, get to dose the stir crazy, stall-bound animal with antibiotics. In the powder form, the medicine is mixed with his grain, which you've reduced to a minute amount to try and cut his energy level. It does not taste good. The half that gets left in the bottom of the feed bucket can be mixed with molasses to make it palatable. Of course, molasses pours as slow as, well, molasses. So your hope that you might have five minutes to do something besides take care of a sick horse ticks on by.
One thing, I always get asked is: HOW DO YOU TAKE HIS TEMPERATURE?
Just like a baby. Stick it up his butt! And, hope he doesn't decide it's time to get rid of that grain and molasses before the four minute incubation period is over.
After almost three weeks, I decided my horse, his name is Bargaining Chip, and I needed to have a talk.
I said, "Get well. NOW!"
His answer?
Bargaining Chip shook his head no, he does not live up to his name, and then, blew snot all over my coat.
I wonder if I'll find time to wash it, after I clean the stall, graze the beast, mix the molasses, take the temp, clean the stall...
When a horse gets a runny nose, cough and fever, alarm bells go off. They don't do well. Most virus' with these symptoms are highly contagious, so the horse has to be kept away from other horses, you have to make sure you don't carry the germs from the sick guy to the others, and his exercise has to be limited. That means he stays in a stall, and you get to clean it, at our house I get to clean it, over and over again for as long as the horse is sick. It is not fun.
A horse can hemorrhage his lungs coughing and exercise makes him cough more often. That's the reason for stall rest. He can be hand-grazed, where the others aren't allowed to graze. More time for his owner, me in this case, to spend with her precious animal. Standing in the cold, holding the end of a lead-line so he won't romp about. You hope he doesn't decide to do pirouettes from being stall crazy. A 1200lb animal on his hind legs, steel shoes flashing over your head, while you try to hold on to a rope attached to his halter, makes you sweat, but doesn't do much to warm your heart when it's 30 degrees outside.
Sometimes, the virus causes a secondary bacterial infection in the sinus, etc. Then you, me again, get to dose the stir crazy, stall-bound animal with antibiotics. In the powder form, the medicine is mixed with his grain, which you've reduced to a minute amount to try and cut his energy level. It does not taste good. The half that gets left in the bottom of the feed bucket can be mixed with molasses to make it palatable. Of course, molasses pours as slow as, well, molasses. So your hope that you might have five minutes to do something besides take care of a sick horse ticks on by.
One thing, I always get asked is: HOW DO YOU TAKE HIS TEMPERATURE?
Just like a baby. Stick it up his butt! And, hope he doesn't decide it's time to get rid of that grain and molasses before the four minute incubation period is over.
After almost three weeks, I decided my horse, his name is Bargaining Chip, and I needed to have a talk.
I said, "Get well. NOW!"
His answer?
Bargaining Chip shook his head no, he does not live up to his name, and then, blew snot all over my coat.
I wonder if I'll find time to wash it, after I clean the stall, graze the beast, mix the molasses, take the temp, clean the stall...
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