|Sunday December 2 2007|
MODEL PATIENT (by Finneas)
I am not particularly enjoying my confinement, nor do I quite understand it. So what if I have a big bandage on my back leg? I feel fine. And I look pretty macho and tough with it, and I am tough, after surviving my Big Accident and giving M a heart attack and all. As CEO of the herd, I don't see why I can't be out running with them and commanding them with a bandage on.
Meanwhile, my mare Quickie also cut her leg so she's temporarily in the Fat Pen with Dudley next door, which is nice, but that means Mac is running around with Diego and my other mare Princess, so I'm a little jealous. At least they got banned from running all the way up the canyon, and they don't wander so far away for so long, but I'm still not out there with them. If they hadn't run off and left me the other day while I was out riding, I wouldn't have gotten myself into trouble with the neighbor herd across the fence and I wouldn't be in this predicament!
Mac is getting a bit cheeky, flaunting his freedom with my Other Woman Princess, and I've noticed he's being somewhat obnoxious as a riding horse (not like me, oh no, I would never be like that!). I need to be out there to take him down a notch or two!
But M said I will be stuck in here for weeks! That prospect is rather unbelievable, and daunting.
So, since I'm stuck in this little pen for a while, I've decided to milk it for all it's worth.
If it's cold and I shiver, I manage to look miserable, so I get a blanket put on me (and extra hay, if I can look REALLY wretched). It is fine artistry to master looking wretched and yet masculine at the same time, but I am perfecting that skill.
I gaze longingly out of my pen to elicit sympathy, and I paw at my door, begging to be let out. M almost caves. But she won't let me out, so then I beg for a carrot, and manage to look cute doing it. I always get one.
I get my poop piles picked out of my pen twice a day (sometimes I even help M by holding the rake), and I get the straw pile that M put in there for me fluffed up.
At first, I was getting syringed in my mouth twice a day (TWO syringes, twice a day!), and I did NOT like it. I threw little tantrums, making it very difficult for M to do, and so I made her compromise with me. In the morning, she has to give me my medicines mixed with a bucket of oats, with sliced up carrots and apples (sliced in small bites), AND with a big dollop of molasses. Sometimes I turn my nose up at it, so she has to mix MORE molasses in it! It really doesn't taste that bad, I just want more molasses. In the afternoon, when I get my leg bandage changed, I allow her to give me the two oral syringes of medicine, but 1) they have to be mixed with applesauce, AND molasses, and 2) I get a bucket of oats afterwards.
She then works on my leg while I'm chowing down. At first I'm a little nervous because I think it's going to hurt, and it reminds me of being caught in the wire, and I start shaking - although that doesn't stop me from keeping my head in the bucket and hoovering up the oats. The only thing that really hurts is when she pulls the pad right off the big cut because it sticks to it a little bit. After that, I stop shaking and just keep on eating, because it doesn't hurt that much any more. I get many layers of wraps over my owie, and every day I get a different color, so I look pretty hot and manly. (M makes sure I don't wear pink.)
Now, a lot of people have sent their sympathies and get well wishes to me. Connie, the rider who (naturally) fell in love with me a month ago, writes and calls to check on me. In lieu of Connie not being here, I give M kisses, like Connie taught me. It makes M feel sorry for me, so then I get a carrot, dipped in molasses.
Frank, this famous Northwest endurance horse, told M to give me some peppermints from him. M went out and bought me a whole bucket of candy canes, but I didn't like them. So, instead, from Frank, I get a carrot (dipped in molasses) after every re-bandaging session.
So, if you're stuck in a sorry situation, my theory is, become a Model Patient. This means, if you can't run with 'em, exploit your sorry situation for all the sympathy and treaties you can get.