Virtual Brush Box

An expanded account of my cryptic Monday post [Short Version].

Earlier this spring, my friend Sunflower convinced me to take my blog more seriously. To that end, I signed up for Y’all Connect, a day-long blogging conference last Friday. I was excited. I was ready. I packed a stack of business cards. I printed a pile of handouts [Flyers].

(*Aside. Specifics redacted out of paranoia [Identity]. Also, I really need to order a general writing card. End aside)

I had arranged the posts with care. Anyone who looked up the blog on the day would find a photo specifically chosen to be more mainstream, an explanation of Foto Friday, and a welcome message [Trophy Interior]. My post the day before talked about what I wanted from the conference [State of the Blog].

When we went out to check the horses Friday morning, Rodney was standing on three legs with blood dripping from his nose. Seriously Horse, both ends?

(Second aside. Clearly, Rodney was and is fine. Otherwise, I would be far more worried about his health than about attending a conference. End second aside.)

The Nose
Rodney had a small but alarming amount of bright red blood coating the inside of his left nostril and running down his nose. Friend & frequent contributor Ellen Broadhurst [book info (giveaway over), photo posts] commiserated, “Blood streaming from someone’s nose is always dramatic. And it always turns out to be nothing, unless it is something, and then it’s SOMETHING!”

Exactly. We were pretty sure it was minor. Pretty sure. As soon as we got him to sit with his head back and pinch the bridge of his nose, the bleeding stopped. Although the damage was too far up to see directly, the fact that the deluge was one-sided gave us good reason to believe the injury was local to the nostril rather than something dire farther upstream, e.g. brain or lungs.

It also itched. He had rubbed his nose on every horizontal and vertical surface, including Milton. The run-in area of the barn looked like the elevator lobby scene near the end of The Cabin in the Woods. Head wounds bleed. A lot.

Once Rodney could lower his head down without reopening the injury, we let him graze. Whatever it was stayed closed and the dewy grass cleaned off the remaining traces of blood. I checked him repeatedly throughout the day. Nary a drop.

The Leg
The evening before, Rodney had been ever so slightly off on his left hind. We figure he kicked himself stomping flies. He didn’t move all that night, so the leg had stocked up. Again, dramatic but ultimately harmless.

The first few steps kept being ugly, but he would walk out of it quickly. Generally, a sign that serious structural damage has not occurred. The swelling went down with time and cold hosing.

Having a Bad Day
And the winner of Who Had The Worst Day contest goes to … drumroll … Milton. He sensed a disturbance in the Force. While I was sitting with Rodney, I had to spend most of my time consoling Milton.