And It's Not Cheap!

continued from... On your Feet!


Hobbies, ordinarily, don't come cheap, but with most hobbies there's an initial big investment and then things are good until you decide to buy that new PC, motorcycle, hang glider, or whatever it is you do for kicks. With Horse ownership there's a little thing called recurring costs.

Most horse owners in Germany don't own their own stables, so there are boarding costs which usually include the feed. Let's not forget that bi monthly visit from the farrier. And then last but certainly not the least, there is the unknown and unplanned cost of the Veterinarian. It's that cost that can drain a savings account faster than any other. I've read horror stories on internet boards of horse owners, so desperate to save their animal, that they would try every remedy possible until their medical expenses snowballed into the $20, 000 range.

I don't have that kind of money, so when the Vet told warned me of the costs I would incur treating Tamara, I swallowed hard. I'm not single. I have a family. One son in collage and the other serving an apprenticeship. They need my financial support, and as much as I love my horse, it's family (the human members) that must come first. My wife and I made a compromise. We would absorb the cost of Tamara's treatment, but if it didn't work, we might have to face the reality of putting her down.

To make a long story short, the antibiotic flush, and subsequent treatment didn't work, and my Vet was at a loss for an explanation. He had diagnosed her as having Streptococcal bacteria in her hock joint. After the treatment, the bacteria seemed to be gone, but the swelling persisted and the lameness returned. She couldn't stand up without injuring herself by slamming into the stall walls. The "snowball" had started rolling.

In desperation, I turned for a second opinion and was told by a second vet that Tamara was deathly sick but could be cured for around 3,000 Euros, ($7,500). We sent that vet on his way and turned to another vet who was also trained in homeopathy. For 200 Euros we got a small bottle of little sugar balls. Ten sugar balls a day and a mud pack was what this good doctor prescribed.

After a month, the lameness slowly subsided, although I suspect it had more to do with time than with the sugar balls. There was no improvement, however, in the swelling and on the second month my hopes were dashed when Tamara re-injured the leg while standing up in her stall. It was at this point when I had to seriously consider putting her down. We called a third Vet. If he gave us bad news, then that was that. We'd have to do the humane thing.

This Vet took x-rays, and said that surprisingly, the joint appeared to be ok with the exception of normal wear and tear. He suggested taking another fluid sample, and a possible second flushing. At this point my wife, who had been wonderfully patient up to this point, but her foot down. No more treatment. We were tapped. So the Vet gave Tamara a pain killer and additional oral medicine to be taken for the pain. And it became a process of keeping the fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

Within two weeks her condition improved and has steadily improved on through January of this year. She had been barefoot since October and eventually developed sore feet. Since we suspected that hoseshoes had been the cause of swollen hock nightmare, I looked into hoof boots as an alternative to iron shoes. We purchased a pair for her front hoofs and this had an immediate and positive effect on her comfort. No more signs of difficulty walking etc.

I suspected that the swelling in her hock, which and gone down slightly, but not completely, would be permanent. My new Vet (the forth in a year) confirmed this.

Last week, I rode Tamara for the first time in almost 7 months. It was just ten minutes. Just to check out the strength of her leg, but it was literally a step forward. I have ridden her 2 more times since. Thirty minutes being the last ride together with a very short gallop. It would seem that my old girl is back. Realistically, the days of jumping up rooted tree trunks in the wood after a wind storm are probably over, along with 3 to 4 hour trail rides. Still -- considering the nightmares I had of a Vet arriving to administer that final deadly injection -- just to be able to ride Tamara on a pleasant day, along the green hills surrounding our village, is a blessing. Besides, I'm pushing 50 myself; getting too old to risk the care free fun of chasing deer on horseback through the wood.

Ride on!

On your feet!

continued from... The Nightmare Begins


There have been a few occasions when I felt helpless. The first was when my newborn son was yanked out of my arms by a frantic nurse and turned into a pin cushion with IV's sticking in every direction. He had blood poisoning; the result of a careless Army medic who removed his umbilical clip too early. The second time occurred in the middle of the Iraqi desert, wearing a gas mask and anticipating a Scud missile attack that never happened. The third time came when I saw my big beautiful horse laying on the ground looking as if she were near death.

It was July, and it was hot, but luckily she had walked to the shade of the feed shelter before she collapsed. I just looked at the ballooned hock in disbelief; possible culprits racing through my head. An insect bite? Some nasty plant in the pasture? The heat?

The critical part would be getting her on her feet. If we couldn't do that, then it was game over. Pulling and tugging didn't work, so finally I just spanked her hard on her hind quarters with the lead rope. "On your feet now!" I shouted , almost too harsh. She reacted to the prodding and we jumped out of the way right quick. She hoisted herself up on all fours, and walked a few meters. To my relief, there was little in the way of visible lameness.

Still, her head hung low, and she refused a slice of apple. Tamara never refused an apple or anything else from my hand. We managed to get her back to the stable and I immediately called my Vet. She had a low fever, and still no appitite. My Vet's assistant arrived, took a look at the hock and shook her head. She gave Tamara a shot for antibiotics, pain killer, and a fluid sample was taken from the hock. We were told the results would take a couple of days and to meanwhile we should not turn her out. Like I really needed to be told that.

Within the two day period, Tamara began to improve. Her appetite was back, the fever was gone, and there was no sign of lameness. The hock, however, was still swollen.

My Vet called two days later. "The test results are positive, " he said. "You must transport her here to the clinic. And I must tell you now. It will be very expensive." To be continued...

The Nightmare Begins

On the last week of June, 2007, Tamara, my horse, sustained multiple lacerations on the inside of her right hind leg. We discovered the injuries late in the afternoon when bringing the horses in from pasture. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought she had tangled herself in barbwire, but we don't have barbwire. I'm not even sure barbwire is legal to use it as fencing here in Germany. So the mystery began. How did she injure herself so badly?

Judging from the pattern of the lacerations (seven in all) both myself and the stable owner concluded that the only possible way this could have happened is while she was rolling. Tamara was shod and she has big feet. In fact, she has hoofs that would give a Clydesdale a good run for the money. Before riding her, or even turning her out, I'd have to go through this ritual of wrapping her legs with Velcro trainer boots and put overreach bells on her front hoofs. Yet despite all of the "armored" protection, she must have managed to scrape the inside of one leg with the shod opposite hoof!

The scary part is that we had no idea when the injuries occurred during the course of the day. There was no sign of lameness so we decided to clean and dress the woods and keep an eye on her. Bare in mind, Tamara was constantly getting lacerations like this, and I was constantly cleaning and dressing them to the point that it was almost routine. The only difference being that this time there was more than one or two cuts. Hind sight is always better than foresight. I should have called a Vet then and there.

Three days later, all appeared to be ok, so my wife and I left for Italy on a planned two week holiday. The stable owner and one of my sons would continue taking care of Tamara's wounds, and regular cell phone updates assured me that everything was fine.

Upon returning from holidays, I examined Tamara's wounds to find they had healed nicely, and on the first full day back from Italy, I went for a long ride without one single hitch. The next day I turned her out early in the morning and went about my business as I always do on non riding days.

In the afternoon we went out to bring the horses in and that's when I discovered Tamara, laying on her side, prone, in obvious pain, and a hock the size of an overinflated balloon. To be continued...

Let Me Tell Ya About My Horse

Hi, if you're here to learn something about horse ownership, you're in the wrong place. This is where one learns what not to do.

Going on three years ago, I bought a horse. To be precise, a monstrous 17 hand beast with a mind of her own. That's right, she's female, a mare, that makes it doubly worse. There is nothing so similar to the mentality of the human female, than a female horse, and the real problem is, when she's in a pissy mood, she really can kick the crappola out of you.

Tamara (that's her name) is gray. There's a difference between gray and white you know. A gray horse has black skin underneath it's white hair. A white horse and pink skin. Don't believe me, I'm as dependable as Wikapedea.

Tamara is Hungarian stock with no papers, and don't ask me why the original owner chose to name her "Tamara", "Lucy" actually fits her better. When I bought her she was 17 year old, not necessarily ancient for a horse but not a young Philly either.

Tamara's one of these animals that can be deceptive to the eyes. By that I mean, some days she looks like a tired old granny. Her conformation sucks and her oversized Tyrannosaurus Rex head becomes very pronounced. On other days, I feel like I'm looking at a totally different horse; a descendant of Lipizzaner stock. She stands erect and alert, beautiful confirmation, flowing white main and tail shimmering in the sunlight. Those at the days I should sell her.

It's a joke. I wouldn't sell Tamara. We've been through too much in the past 3 years, including over 2,500 Euros worth of vet bills in the past year. I love my horse. I feel really weird as a guy saying that. "Tamara, I wish I knew how do quit you!"

So anyway, I have just gone through one of the most trying times for any horse owner. Through patience, frustration, and a ton of money, my horse has come back from the brink of death, and yesterday, I rode her for the first time in 7 long months. It was only a ten minute ride to see how she would hold up, but it was a start.

I'm starting this blog, in her honor. She's deserves a little recognition for having carried my fat ass all over creation for so long. If you are a horse owner, you will probably cringe at some of the stuff I write. Horse people invariably think they know more , than other horse people. I'm sure that as this blog continues someone will post well meaning advice like, "Do the horse a favor and put yourself down."