Harrowing

You know those jokes about needing to get back to work on Monday for a rest after the weekend? This weekend was one of those, and not because of any wild New Year’s celebrations, either.

Saturday morning it was -37 on the thermometer - a bitter, biting cold. Jay went out to feed and came rushing back in because Penny was down. My heart sank. It’s just not good when a thirty-something-year-old horse collapses in the frigid cold. I called the vet, called Doreen (Penny’s owner), and then got bundled up as quickly as possible and went outside. Jay had gotten Penny up by this point and a blanket on her. She had been sweating like crazy and had melted two big depressions in the snow that were just bowls of ice from her body heat and sweat. She was shaking and weak.

While we normally don’t miss having a barn, this was one of the times when one was sorely needed. We decided to try to get her into the garage so we could put some heaters on her, so I ran to pull out the cars while Jay tried to move her to the garage. He got about halfway before she collapsed. Between us we bullied her to her feet again and managed to get her into the garage, a second blanket on, and some heaters going. Then the vet arrived.

Amazingly, her temperature was not too low, but her heart rate was very high and her breathing was rapid. The vet thought likely it was colic, so tubed her and got a bunch of mineral oil in and gave her a shot of Banamine. The Banamine did its job and she cheered up a bit, so we started walking. An hour and a half, up and down the road, taking turns to go in the house to defrost. By then even though she hadn’t pooped yet, she was almost asleep on her feet, so we put her in a pen and went inside. It was now early afternoon.

Doreen went home to get some things, planning to spend the night at our house. I went out again after a while and Penny hadn’t moved - her body, or her bowels. I decided to walk a bit more. Within half an hour of very slow walking, she refused to go any further, and it was only with Jay pushing from behind that we were able to get her back to the paddock. Her eyes were sunken in her skull and she didn’t respond to us at all. Still no poop.

I called the vet again and we talked. He gently informed me that the outlook at this point was very bleak. There was no further treatment that he could give, and more walking was just going to exhaust her. He said that if she went down again that we would have no choice but to call him to come and put her down, and not to wait, since death by colic is agonizing.

Doreen came back, and I started to make supper. Once I got the casserole into the oven, I volunteered to go and check on her. She was down again.

I ran to get Jay and Doreen and we struggled to get her up for about half an hour. She wouldn’t even try. When she flopped over onto her side, soaked with sweat again, her whole body tremoring, Doreen gave me the okay to call the vet. I did, but it looked like she wouldn’t even live long enough for the vet to arrive to end her suffering. Her legs were shaking and flailing, she was gasping for breath, and you could feel her pounding heartbeat in her neck. It was absolutely horrible to watch.

After twenty minutes of this, with us clustered around helplessly, holding each other and weeping, only moments before the vet pulled into the driveway, she stood up.

Lifted her tail.

And pooped.

Within minutes, she wandered over to the hay pile and started to eat. We stood gaping in wonder.

The vet gave her another shot of Banamine and left.

We took turns watching her overnight, but there was no further drama. Sunday, she was tired but generally normal. Today she seems perfectly fine.

The rest of us are going to need a few more days to recover.

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