The details of our colic episode [Long Night].
At evening meds, Rodney is covered with mud and refuses his carrot. One advantage to Hubby being a carrot pusher, we have immediate notification when one of the horses is feeling poorly. Rolling + lack of interest in food = possible colic. So I listen to his fat belly. Gut sounds present but weak. Let the walking begin.
Gut sounds not robust
Was the back-up thermometer registering correctly?
Minor gut sounds.
Not hard to keep from rolling
After 20 minutes, an hour, some interminable number of laps back & forth in the moonlight, Rodney is happy, seeking carrots, and gurgling like a steam engine. I go sit for 15 minutes, congratulating myself on our low-tech solution to the problem.
You see it coming don’t you? When we got back to the barn, Rodney was halfway back to where he had been. Break out the Banamine and call the vet.
Vet thought we had it under control for now & was not inclined to come out. What do people do who don’t have an inhouse medic?
Banamine & walking perk him back up. Rodney goes into an bare stall. We watch him while eating our belated dinner. Then, we arrange shifts and go to bed. At first check, he had pooped. We stand down. At second check, I take him for a walk. He feels well enough that he wants to gallop into the darkness. After all, there is nothing in the stall for him. One more check & up early to be sure. During the day, Rodney is running about, kicking and remonstrating that he wants something to EAT!
Overall, a standard mild colic with positive outcome. However, there were two weirdnesses:
Weirdness #1: When Hubby went to give the Banamine iv, Rodney kept pulling away & shaking his neck, not just his head but his whole head/neck assembly. He acted as if he was either afraid of the shot or didn’t like how the alcohol felt on his skin. Shades of the liniment experience [EEEE-ouch!]. What a cupcake.
Weirdness #2: During round 1, Rodney was pawing the ground. During round 2, he would throw both legs forward and then rock back as if stretching the front end assembly. I’ve seen horses do this to stretch but never as stomach relief.
Finally, Mathilda was doubleplusdispleased at three hours of activity at the barn that did not result in a single carrot for her.
The next day, I sent Hubby an update:
Subject – Patient ….
… is so pitiful that he is standing at the compost pile eating leftovers.
To which one of his co-workers responded: