The Hardest Part

Two summers ago, I missed the whole show season after my mare and I had a wreck on XC at our first clinic. It sucked and I spent more time on painkillers than I have in the rest of my life combined. I was antsy and full of nervous energy and bored stiff, but it was so much easier than this is.

I was the one hurting.

I had an end date.

I had a happy, healthy horse.

I had a goal.

Seems so long ago

Now? I can't even express in words how much it has sucked to watch Cuna going through this process. To see him in pain and know I can't help. To curtail everything he likes without being able to explain why. To watch my vivacious goofball reduced to gimping around his dry lot.

The bravest horse

There isn't an end in sight. There isn't a good explanation for what's going on. I understand bits of pieces of it, but the big picture doesn't make sense. I lay awake at night and obsess over it, but I can't change it and I can't fix it. I can't say I've fixed it and I don't know when he'll be back and at what capacity.

It's an emotional roller coaster, for sure.

Goodbye sexy dressage body

I talked to our vet again yesterday to see if he had any ideas to help us along this process. Cuna's diet got a few more changes. His layoff is even longer. I made an intensive chart tracking his progress, feed changes, management practices, and interaction with professionals.

I count little victories. My heart just melts when he whinnies at me for his breakfast in the morning. I have to laugh at his rigid adherence to his routine--he meets me at the gate when his 20 minutes of turnout are up and just about picks his front feet up for the hoof dressing.

I want to actively make things better for him. The hardest thing is just to watch him be uncomfortable and not be able to change anything for him.