Doctor Doctor

We have been in our new house for a month now. The horses have been living in their new home for about three weeks.

Not even a month...

...and I am greeted by this lovely leg first thing in the morning. Our first injury at the new house.

Skip is a naughty boy. He thinks he is the king of the herd, the big kahuna, the mighty stallion, alpha male, king of the castle, captain of the ship, the big boss, the president, Mr Macho Man. In reality, he is a bully, especially at feeding time.

I think he has a complex. I used to own two very bossy mares - Cricket and Sadie - and they kept him in check, taught him a few lessons, made him use his manners and always ask pretty please before they would allow him to eat. When Cricket and Sadie found new, wonderful homes, Skip slid right in there and conquered the top rung on the totem pole. (Of course his left over competition was a 20 year old mare that has learned to pick her battles, his own mother, a small gelding who isn't a fighter and Henry, a burro.) I would not call his succession a great accomplishment.

If one of my kids ever tests the waters at becoming a bully, I hope some kids stands up for his/her self and kicks their pants. Likewise, I hope my children are brave and stand up for themselves with compassion and love for everyone.

I have digressed...

Wound. Blood.

Right, first thing is first. Good old fashioned warm water to clean the area and see what we are dealing with.

grumble-grumble-grumble

A 2+ inch laceration in an upturning half moon shape - aka a kick mark.

Skip is a perfect example of what happens when power goes to your head and someone finally puts you in your place.

I am a terrible mother.

I couldn't help but look up this thousand pound bully of mine and smile. I hope he learned his lesson. Heaven knows he deserved it. Of course, I then cringed again at the impending vet bill.

After leaving a message for the vet, I placed a non-stick telfa pad over the now clean wound and wrapped a single layer of vet wrap - stretchy, self sticking bandage - to keep the would clean until the vet arrived.

Later that afternoon, the vet and I walked out to assess the situation. I waited to see just how many stitches old red here was about to get. After removing the bandage, we were both surprised to see that the large flap of skin was actually trying to adhere its self closed. My wonderful, handle-bar-mustache vet looked up at me and smiled. "Good work mom!"

The wound was fresh enough and the tiny wrap I applied to just keep the wound clean actually promoted self healing. I managed to avoid a large vet bill consisting of sedatives and stitches. Thank you farm girl/equestrian/mother's intuition!

A pressure wrap, tetanus shot and a bottle of antibiotics later...

 

...and the old boy was patched up and returning to his gnarly self in no time. Monday we will know if we skirted an infection and proud flesh - excessive formation of new tissue. 

Finger's crossed

Extra carrots for the guilty party.