This is the second entry in Rocky's journal. His journal is dedicated to all animal lovers who like to indulge in attributing human traits to our furry and feathered friends. Although it's fanciful, it's not fiction. The events are real - just from Rocky's point of view. My apologies to readers who think this sort of thing is silly.
The vet was out here again last week. I hung my head over the stall door and watched as the Doc and the two vet students who came with her examined Tesoro's back left foot. When the vet came about three weeks ago, it was his front right foot. He got lame in the back foot just a day or two after getting over the front foot.
They poked and pinched his hoof while he stood there eating hay - an extra ration, I might add, that Fay and I won't get. But they thought he wouldn't mind being poked so much if he had something to munch on.
After the poking was over, they decided to walk him around out in the pasture to see how his back foot behaved - and sure 'nuff, it behaved like a lame foot. I could have told them that. Then they brought him back in the barn aisle and decided to give him some shots - something called a nerve block. At this point I decided not to begrudge him that little bit of extra hay. After a few minutes, they said his hoof was numb and they took him for another walk in the pasture. And guess what? No lameness. I think all this was to prove that the problem was in the hoof and not further up in his leg bones.
Next they hauled the portable x-ray machine out of the vet's truck. And poor old Tesoro got another shot - a sedative so they could get him to put his two back feet on wooden blocks. He sure looked silly with his back feet on blocks that made his rear end higher than his front end. But he was so woozy he didn't care. He didn't even feel like eating hay.
The vet seemed to be happy with the x-rays since they showed an abscess and not laminitis. I didn't think it was anything too serious since I hadn't noticed any vultures circling the pasture - no more than the one or two regulars that are always patroling the neighborhood, looking for something to eat. I'm glad I'm a horse and not a vulture. It's a lot easier to find grass than it is to find old dead things.
They tied a plastic bag with Epsom salt water in it around Tesoro's foot and soaked it for a few minutes. Then they put some of that slimy green paste on the bottom of his hoof and put a homemade boot on it. This homemade boot is - you'll never guess - a disposable baby diaper - complete with cartoon characters printed on it! I'll swear, I couldn't help snickering when I saw it. Then they wrapped the diaper in shiny silver tape and, I have to admit, it looks right spiffy.
An hour after the vet left, Tesoro was over his wooziness so Jerry let us out in the pasture. And - can you believe it! - we weren't out there five minutes before Tesoro came toward me and Fay at a good clip to run us off our patch of grass. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't fake these foot problems just for the attention.