Archie

Grandpa's doing pretty damn well.  I took him off the SmartFlex Senior that he's been on for about a decade when my vet recommended that he start Equioxx.  He's been pulling me around on trail rides and marching around the dirt box.  We had drama at the barn this summer/fall, but I'm great at covert fisticuffs and the issues have been mostly resolved, which means he's putting weight back on.  It's the great catch-22 of senior horses with arthritis - I don't want to see your ribs because you're a senior, but I still want the thought of them because of your shitty joints.

My farrier recently noted some changes in his hoof structure on that shitty right front.  While he didn't seem overly concerned about additional possible lameness issues in my already crippled semi-retired geriatric, I still set up an appointment with my beloved vet to get maintenance rads of that hoof.  It's been two years since the shit hit the fan, so it feels like time.  That'll be Friday.

Whiskey

We've had a couple few more lessons since last I wrote.  Two were with friends who outshine my inverted one-lead pony.  One time, I got to use a driving rein (a la Mary-Kate) and then worked on a "bow-tie" exercise, but not at the same time.  Trainer is at the point where I'm no longer allowed to hold his face or have more than the barest of contact.  He's solely responsible for his balance, but I am supposed to invite him to come over his back.  This takes a level of finesse that neither of us were really sure I had.  Surprise, I do!

My third lesson was solo and it was devoted to building topline - or, rather, teaching me the tools and contact I needed to keep him using the right muscles while also not enabling him to brace against me.  It was a lot of "Supple!  Hands forward!  Supple!  Hands forward!"

The time change has really fucked me over, though.  We moved barns back in the spring and this new barn just doesn't have adequate light for me to ride after work.  There are a few flood lights, so I'm thinking Whisk is going to be introduced to side-reins in the semi-dark.  I'm not killing myself about it because we aren't working towards anything big any time soon - mostly just getting his muscles to reform in the correct places.

Zoom zoom.

Best Bitches

The big girls are good - though Savannah has recently had a cystocentesis for a urinary analysis and culture, as well as abdominal radiographs.  Poor old lady has been battling chronic UTIs for the past seven years or so.  Between the culture and the UA, we've determined that she has proteus bacteria, but fortunately no stones.  Just sludge.  Twenty days of simplicef and a temporary diet change.

Tiny terrorist, Hedwig, on far left, looking way too big.

The tiny terrorist is doing well, too.  She started obedience classes recently and has caught on quickly.  I trained Scarlette and Savannah all by myself and they were well-trained and obedient dogs, but it's much harder when I'm not the only one doing it.  Which is to say, D needs dog-training, too.

Okay, so I'm good at spoiling.

Shittens

Speaking of assholes and urine, D's cat blocked again.  For those unfamiliar with the horrible construction of a male cat's urethra, that shit gets blocked by the thought of blocking and then the cat can't pee.  Good-bye kidney function and hello sepsis and rupturing.  Fortunately, we caught it quickly and they were able to unblock him with relative ease.  D and I had already talked about the PU surgery (he becomes a she, as we used to call it) and, also fortunately, he's completely on board to slice up that member in order to lessen the likelihood of this ever happening again.

All in All
This tenuous grasp on a happy life has been holding pretty well.