Three Weeks Down, Three to Go!

It's officially three weeks since Hoss went into involuntary confinement. For the most part he's taking it well. He's not happy about it, but he accepts the circumstances. I think his foot feels whole bunches better. He occasionally has a bit of a bucking fit in the corral. Once or twice he's taken after a dog in play, which the dogs don't take too well. He had a spook moment one morning which resulted in him stepping on Uh-oh's front foot. Fortunately she wasn't seriously injured. She limped for a day or so, but otherwise has been fine.

I have been brushing Hoss every day, and giving him a bath every week. At least he's getting a little interaction. The fungal thing he had last year seems to have come back, so his weekly baths have involved anti-fungal shampoo and spray on treatment. I also use the treatment every day after he's brushed. This has also led to crazy hygiene measures. I wash his brushes every day. The fungus seems to be coming under control, thankfully. It's on his back where his saddle would sit, so it's probably just as well he's currently laid up.

Thinking back, it occurred to me Hoss's hoof injury is most likely due to the accident he and my daughter experienced in mid-April. My daughter and I talked about the incident, and the odds are good that was the primary insult. She told me he definitely fell more to the right than the left. Also, I realized upon reflection I had started to notice problems right about that same time. It was really easy to chalk it up to having recently trimmed his feet and foot soreness. Looking back, he was telling me something was very wrong!

After much thought – and the realization I'd need to shoe him soon – I pulled Hoss's shoes to continue trying the barefoot transition. Obviously it wasn't the boots causing his lameness issue. Not having that to blame it on, it seems a bit unfair to toss out the whole experiment now. With three weeks to go on the layup, it was a good time to go ahead and pull the shoes. He'll have time to readjust before we start working again. And maybe I'll have time to actually acquire hind boots for him!

Before I give up entirely on this barefoot thing, I have to try to get him in hind boots. Clearly the Gloves don't work for Hoss, and the classic Easyboot was a failure, too, leading me to think the Epics would be just as much of a problem. So, on to the Edge boots. I expect the Edges will be my last attempt at finding hind boots that work. This gets expensive in a hurry!

I don't look nearly so whupped as I felt!

I finally got particularly brave and took the mountain bike to Hollenbeck Canyon. Team Fluffy was so excited, although they really had little idea what to expect. Once we got going, though, they had a blast.

While mountain biking, I realized two things pretty quickly:

1. Over rough terrain, it is safer to go faster and stay off the brakes as much as possible; and
   
2. Faster scares the crap out of me.

   

   The view from the top, sort of westerly

   
   

   
   

I found the mountain biking experience much easier than I expected. I must be fitter than I thought. I made it up most of the hills. I did walk the biggest one, partly because I was a little whipped, but also because Mac had managed to get a foxtail in his ear and didn't want to run.

This dog has got to be the most accident-prone thing on four legs. Now that he's over hopping around on three legs from a cracked claw, he seems to have decided it's once again time for foreign bodies in the ears. So, while we were running along the flat part of Hollenbeck, he took off after a squirrel. By the time he came back, it was clear he had something in his ear, as well as having been bitten on the lip by the target of his attack.

Roxy was already at the vet for a regularly scheduled appointment and an unscheduled dental cleaning and removal of her left upper canine. I'd received a call she would be ready by 5:30pm. Well, at 5:00, we were still on the trail with Mac walking slowly along. I called in and let the vet's office know we would be some time in arriving and Mac would need tended to, as well. Mac did eventually seem to realize he would have to keep up on his own. I wasn't going to keep walking slowly with him, and I certainly wasn't about to pick him up!

At the vet's office, Mac got his ear tended and Roxy was beyond happy to be going home. I also picked up Figaro's ashes.

On the subject of Figaro, it turns out he managed to consume gopher poison. I spoke with my neighbors on both sides and learned my neighbor's contractor had put down gopher poison. I told him what happened and he was quite horrified. My understanding is he'd never given permission to lay out poison in the first place. He called the contractor immediately and demanded the poison be removed. At least we know what happened, and that it's unlikely to happen again.

Only three more weeks to go, then I get to see if Hoss is sound again. I have every hope he will be. With the leaping and spooking in the pen, every indication is he's feeling just fine. He's been off the anti-inflammatory for a few days now, so I know what I'm seeing is just him. I'm keeping my fingers crossed the layup will prove to be all the more he needs to remedy the injury.

In Memory of Figaro

Last week, I was writing of Figaro's three-day disappearance, only to return unharmed. This week, I must tell of the end of his life.

Figaro and Tiger

On Friday night, I heard Figaro come in, crying loudly in distress. I checked him all over and found no sign of injury. His belly was somewhat tender, and he was hunched, but otherwise appeared to be reasonably okay. I carried him to my room, and let him settle in the closet. If he was still in distress in the morning, I would take him to the vet.

Saturday morning I found Figaro where I'd left him. I waded through the disaster that is my closet to touch him, and found him responsive, if a bit slow. After I had dressed, he was gone. I thought he was feeling better and had gone outside. I proceeded with my day, which involved moving furniture that had belonged to my church's most recent intern minister.

After returning home, I saw Tiger, but no sign of Figaro. This not being unusual for him, I was unconcerned. Later in the evening, a niggling voice in my head told me to look closer in my closet. I went back, and moving several items, I found Figaro had passed away quietly on the floor of my closet.

Figaro was a sweet, if somewhat demanding, kitty. He had a loud meow with which to demand the attention of his humans. When I went to bed, he would come in and interpose himself between my face and my book, insisting I must pet him, and do it right now. He would crawl into my lap and lay across my arm. If I ignored him, he would pat at my hands with his paws.

At some point, Figaro "picked" my husband as "his" human. Whenever my husband was home, Figaro would climb up on the bed and demand attention. My husband, who was somewhat lukewarm on cats, became a huge fan of this particular one. Figaro made him feel as if he was singularly loved by a cat.

A young Figaro is ready for his closeup

When Figaro was young, my daughter taught him to tolerate doing the "I'm a Kitty Cat Dance." This involves holding the cat upright under its armpits, and "dancing" it about while singing, "Cat, I'm a kitty cat! And I dance dance dance and I dance dance dance!" My daughter decided this was important for our cats to learn, and had started the tradition with Tiger. Figaro tolerated this indignity with good humor, and never sought revenge on any of his humans for this ridiculous behavior.

Figaro hides behind the fender of my new saddle to attack Tiger

Figaro and Tiger got along for the most part, but Figaro sure had a mean streak where it came to his adopted sister. Tiger would be resting quietly, and Figaro would proceed to leap all over her. Poor Tiger would hiss and growl, but she really didn't fight back much. Their relationship was not just torture, though. Many times they could be seen dashing about the yard playing. They would chase each other about and wrestle like littermates. I know Tiger will miss his presence as much as the rest of us.

It seems likely he died of some sort of poisoning. What he could have gotten into I've no idea. We have two neighbors, and we all get along, so I don't believe it could have been intentional. There was no evidence of rat poisoning, which would have been quite obvious. Because he died so quickly after displaying any symptoms, it is unlikely he could have been saved even if I had run him straight to the emergency vet on Friday night. It's more than a little scary not knowing why he died. I hope to have some answers from the vet in a few days.

Goodbye to my sweet little Figaro. You were young, but your life was a good one. Thank you for being our wonderful little cat.

Always Something New

Life is never anything if not interesting. Even when I'm not riding, there's always something to talk about!

On Wednesday night, I brought home another foster dog, Sadie. Sadie belongs to a fellow choir member who is spending the summer in France. She is an Airedale and a very nice dog. I now have an even six-pack of dogs living here.

Sadie

 

It didn't take Sadie long to pick up on the routine. The walk was easy enough. On the first morning, I used her leash for a while, then let her off. I haven't bothered with it since. She knows what to do. It only took her a day and a half to figure out the dog door.

Unfortunately, Jazz is less than thrilled with the new addition. Her first reaction was to posture and growl. I had to stop her from attacking Sadie right off. I think while I was gone with Hoss at the vet, Jazz did attack Sadie and put a couple of marks in her. When I went to leave my room a few days later, Jazz and Sadie got in to a knock down drag out fight in my bedroom doorway. I couldn't do a darned thing to stop it, other than to yell at them. They separated after a pretty tense thirty seconds or so, and I put both of them on the floor. Since that fight, I haven't had any real trouble with them, so I think they've settled their differences.

Sadie has also had to learn to wait her turn for her food bowl. Having been an only dog, she thinks the first bowl should be for her. Around here, the first bowl is Roxy's, then Ash, Mac, Tanner, and Jazz. Everybody has their own spot to eat. I decided to slip Sadie in after Ash and before Mac, because that was the easiest way to get her a spot. Well, she wanted to dive in to Ash's bowl, which was not making Ash happy. I quickly bent down to correct Sadie and prevent a fight. Just my luck, there was a dining room table in the way, and I whacked my head just about as hard as I could on the corner of the chair back. It left me with a mark and a swelling right where my hat band sits. It's like a constant very low grade headache.

When I arrived home with Hoss from the vet's, I immediately noticed Mac was hopping around carrying a hind leg. A quick glance told me there was no swelling or bleeding, so I decided I'd wait and see how he did for a couple of days.

A couple of days later, Mac's still hopping. There's still no swelling. I did find a red scratch on the outside toe. It was pretty clear to me it was the toe causing the problem. When I touched it, he'd cry, and one morning when I accidentally rolled over on it in bed, he screeched like he was gonna die.

So I finally broke down and took him to the vet. There's only so much three-legged lame I can take before I involve a professional. Mac also has the worst problem with internal parasites I've ever seen in a dog, so it was a good opportunity to address that, too.

The vet took a look at the affected toe, and decided it was a scratch, and Mac is a drama queen. Two days he's been hopping around, crying and whining, telling me he can't make it up the stairs or through the dog door. I expect he'll be better in a few days, but he's gonna milk it for as much sympathy as he can get.

The morning after Sadie arrived, Figaro, our little black cat, darted out the front door, very much in a snit over the new dog. I was gone much of the rest of the day, so wasn't real concerned that I didn't see him. When I called the cats to come in for the night and he didn't show up, though, I was a little worried. Tiger came in, but there was no sign of Figaro. I left the pet door open for the night so he could come in and went off to bed.

By morning there was still no sign of Figaro. The weather was getting very warm. My thermometer was reading in the low 100s at midday. I had a little bit of work and needed to pick up hay and supplies to build a chicken yard, so I was in and out all day. Usually on particularly hot days the cats will spend their day in the air conditioned comfort of the house. Tiger was in, but Figaro wasn't.

Figaro (left) and Tiger reunite

By the time Figaro had been missing for three full days, I'd pretty much given up hope that he'd reappear. I decided I'd leave the pet door open one more night before I gave up altogether. I was home late after taking hypochondriac Mac to the vet, and the sun was setting when I put out the dogs' dinners. I walked into the living room to wait for the dogs to finish eating and was looking out the window when lo and behold, there was Figaro! He was over by Hoss's corral, headed toward the horse trailer. I quickly closed the pet door so none of the dogs could follow me outside, and went out to retrieve the cat.

I'm pretty surprised Figaro reappeared. He's set a record for the number of days a cat has gone without being seen here and returned. I scooped him up and brought him inside, leaving the pet door closed. I wasn't about to risk letting him back out again!

I think Figaro will figure out Sadie isn't a threat. The worst she does is sniff the cats, which is less than Jazz does. Jazz licks them. I'm hoping by morning Figaro will have come to terms with the addition of an extra dog to the ranch. At least I know he's secure for now!

My little "visitor"

Before I could pick up hay, I had to clean out the hay storage area.  So before our morning walk, I lifted up the hay pallet to clean up.  And curled up snugly in the hay, a little rattlesnake!  He made no effort to move when I lifted his cover.  I wasn't able to bring myself to kill it, so I picked it up with a manure fork and tossed him into the open space across the street.  I hope his flying lesson makes him think twice about coming back!

Hoss is in that corral, and he's not happy about it. He's starting to show signs of disgruntlement with his confinement. Of course, the anti-inflammatories are making him feel better, so he thinks he should be able to go out and run around in the pasture. I'm afraid it's gonna be a long six weeks!

First summer storm coming in from the east