For two decades, one of the underlying principles in our barn management has been Trust the Mare. We could rely on her common sense to run the pasture. Lately, not so much.
For 18 years, we left Mathilda in charge of where she and Previous Horse spent their time. Answer: out for storms, in for sun. During the summer of her widow year, frequent carrot checks and short walks were employed to prevent her from turning into a couch potato in the super hot weather. Otherwise, we left her to her own devices.
Dunno if it’s life with Rodney or this particular injury but her rehab would go smoother, & faster if she could display a touch more sense. She makes a little bit of progress. We give her a tiny bit of leeway to resume her normal life. She gets hopped up on painkillers, forgets herself, and writes checks her body can’t cash. Doesn’t she realize that every relapse means more time in horse jail?
OTOH, if I have to be on the DL when I’m 90, I’d rather it be from rollerblading with men half my age than a septic papercut from playing canasta. You go girl. Just not so much, please.
[*I tried to get a photo with her in the stall but she kept moving away & turning around. She really, really doesn’t like cameras, even my credit-card sized Canon with no flash & vestigial lens click. Weird.]
Is your horse a rollerblader or a canasta player?