The Last Straw
'It's no use, I can't get her to stand. You'll have to call the vet.'
'Well you know how much that'll cost. We know it's laminitis. Can't you just …'
The words got stuck in his mouth, but I knew what he meant.- we can't afford to spend any more on this horse-
I looked at Gypsy, my gentle, black and white cob, lying there looking miserable. I knew it was my fault. This was the last straw. I knelt down on the shavings and rubbed her nose. The farrier had told me that she was too fat...the grass was too rich...but I kept thinking that like me, she just loved her food and it would be all right. Putting my hand to my aching back, I creaked and groaned as I heaved myself up from the stable floor. There were two of us who needed a bit of help.
'Just ring the vet. I'll do the rest.' I sobbed
The vet came within thirty minutes and confirmed our fears. He administered some pain relief and started to explain how the weight had caused the laminae in her hoof to become inflamed and extremely painful. My resolve hardened.
'If I get her to lose a significant amount of weight, will it go?' I asked.
'She'll always be susceptible, but you've caught it in time, so there's no reason why it shouldn't be controllable. Your farrier should be able to help with sympathetic shoeing.' he added, packing away his syringes and potions.
That night I drafted out a new paddock plan; a series of small enclosures that could be used in rotation to avoid boredom, whilst keeping down the quantity of grass available. On the kitchen cork-board, I posted two charts, one showing Gypsy's girth measurement and one showing my weight! I felt a determination for both us that had never been there before.
Next I needed straw- oat straw in particular. I rang round some merchants. The first three said they didn't have any small bales of anything, let alone straw. I wanted oat straw because it was so much softer to eat and didn't have the sharp haulms that barley straw had. If she was going to have to go on a weight loss programme, at least she'd have something that was tasty...the odd little oat grain treat would help the overall plan, I was sure of that. At last I found a local farmer who had some bales of good quality, feeding oat straw. Not only that, but it was near enough for me to collect in the trailer.
I arrived back next day with fifty bales of sweet smelling, golden bales, four tubs of plain yoghurt,
a pack of smoked salmon offcuts and a selection of fruits and salads; we were going to go through this together!
The first few weeks were strained and uncomfortable for all of us. Tempers were frayed, napping and kicking were not unknown and Gypsy was pretty hungry as well. Gradually though, routine took over and everyone started to get used to the new regime. Treats were appreciated more than ever, whether it was a raw carrot or a chocolate muffin...and the fat fell away , not by magic but by determination and the knowledge that we were both feeling and looking healthier than either of us had done for years.
That was eighteen months ago. The farrier complemented us on doing such a good job of getting Gypsy's weight down. Me?...I've dropped two dress sizes. It's true what they say...it's so much easier when you share the pain!
