Spring's promises around the corner

The mounds of snow are finally melting at a good clip, the sun feels warm, and the air is not so frigid. Spring is finally around the corner.

So will come mud, racing water in streams, and the tiniest of buds you will miss if you don't really look for them. Things that were dead and dormant slowly awaken. There is a promise of new life, and a farewell to that which has been.

Oliver's blindness has gotten worse. He rarely seems to see much. He ends up in rooms he doesn't mean to, wanders into corners, and needs a great deal of help navigating. I carry him almost all the time up and down stairs. He "looks" for them, but, waits, obviously looking for guiding hands to make it less stressful. I happily oblige.

Casey has had setbacks this winter, and his twilight is also upon us. Trips to the vet, problems with his heart and stomach have rendered him showing his age. More calculating meds to make him comfortable, and wondering how long that is a reasonable request of him.

As sad as it all is, knowing they are losing quality of life continually makes you want to see them at peace. And with that peace and parting, there is hope. To be honest, the alleviation of the stress,worry and concern is like a promise awaiting me. I will miss them tremendously, but, I will rest knowing they are at peace. And I will enjoy the peace that will come with the elimination of constant care and concern. Bittersweet.

Five years at our small farm, with all the hard work and money we invest regularly, I have begun to feel burnt out. Not having a horse to ride to balance work with play has taken its toll, and I have been aching for time in the saddle. I started taking lessons, and find myself with anxieties I never would have expected. This is very, very humbling. It's also humiliating and depressing.

Where does one turn for help with such a dilemma? It's crippling. A major vein of my identity has been stripped. And I want it back! But, how? Believe it or not, it is hard to come by fellow horse folk who truly understand and are supportive. It never ceases to amaze me how many horse people "know" what the answer is, that haven't even met my horses or seen me interact with them. Unfortunately, the power that comes from the ability to manage such a large animal often produces an imbalanced pride, making some people feel they are superior and knowledgeable in all things, regardless. Just recently, a conversation with a horse person I'd just met had my mouth slung open, again. They "knew" what the problem was with me, my mare, and what needed to be done, and could foresee the outcome and future for us if we'd just follow their advice. Sadly, I know too well, when the rug gets pulled out from under them in the way it was me, only then will they understand the degree of forced submission you go through when there is no easy answer, and all you  have are questions.

However, just being around other horse lovers forced me to shift my priorities, and work both my horses the next day. I did liberty work with Katy in the round pen, and she was very good. She teaches me to work on subtle cues and to really pay attention to where my energy is focused. As I watched her go, it was clear to me that her suspensory ligaments are not strong. Some might say to keep working her to build them up. At 20 years old, I prefer to take the conservative route, and work her slowly to be sure it's possible to work them back to strength. Somehow, with her history, I don't feel this will happen, and am ok with her having to be a mostly retired horse. She's a good girl who has given a lot, and deserves a happy life.

When we were done, I put Tango in the ring. My fractured hip boy!! What was I, crazy? He used to be a pistol in the ring, bucking it up and racing around. Putting him in the round pen could possible cause him to act up, and hurt himself. One time, while we were working on trot transitions, he was being a particular handful. At one point, he just stopped, looked straight at me, turned, and crashed right through the wooden fence of the round pen. Down the main street. Running back to the barn. Which is why I now have a metal one!

But this day, he was watching intently as I worked Katy from the paddock. He is always immediate to come and greet me whenever I see him. I can tell he wants to interact. But, his injuries have him so limited, that it is hard to work with him in a small, circular area. However, he obviously wanted to play, so, I obliged.

I brought him in, walked him around, did a couple easy commands with him, for which he was perfect, so, I took the lead off his halter. In the past, he would've possibly taken off. Which is bad. But, I would correct him as he bucked and ran, until he was done playing and ready to work. Then he would always lock in. I wasn't sure this day what he would do.

He stood right by me, head held high, but in tune with me. I walked forward, he walked forward, stopping right with my footfall. I backed, he backed. So, I sent him out on the circle.

He was perfect. He walked at the speeds I asked, stopped when I asked, backed and turned like a pro. I could see in his eyes he wanted to blow out, but, he can't do it physically anymore. So, we walked at different paces, stopped and turned, and had a great time together. What I would give to be able to climb on his back.

Back to the barn for a traditional round of carrot stretches, and I turned him back into the paddock, a little teary eyed. Suddenly his demise didn't seem so imminent. Perhaps, I could plow his area in the winter? Perhaps, we could start doing round pen work again. Perhaps, we could come up with some new tricks. And, perhaps, he would be the greatest teacher to others who need a confidence boost and personal reality check. Perhaps, there are more promises awaiting me than I realize.

Ah, spring. Bring it on.

Testimony to my Savior

This may be one of the hardest post I've yet to comprise. Through all the ups and downs the past few years, all my trials, the one rock I've turned to and only consistent remedy for relief is when I turn to our Lord. It is important I write about my journey and the walk I find myself on. Any growth I've had I owe to the love of the One that created me. But, I'll admit, it is not an easy thing for me to write about, or even explain verbally.  While I realize this is a walk I am on, I stumble so much that I am often embarrassed to call myself a Christian. But, I know what His word says. So I persevere. I go to Him with my confessions, and I accept His forgiveness and love. This is my attempt at giving Him the glory for all that I am, have, and will become.

I grew up in a Catholic household. As a child, we went to church every Sunday, said a prayer before meals and attended all the appropriate landmarks along the Catholic way. I was christened, had first communion and confirmed. I remember looking through the pictures in the big family bible we had as a kid, and one of my older sisters always had a creative and cool way to explain its stories. This was when Jesus Christ Superstar was popular with her generation. I was active in the CYO, but, only because I loved music and liked organizing the dance parties. I was married in the Catholic church the first time around, took the pre-cana classes and everything. And I had my own child christened, but, admittedly, and regrettably, dropped the ball after my divorce when he was just 1 years old.

As he began to grow, I bought childrens bibles and such, and read them to him, doing my best to explain who God and Jesus were. We went church hopping, but, he hated the classes he would go to, and preferred to stay during church service. I remember one particular Sunday, at the time when you give peace, he got up and was shaking hands with everyone. It was so sweet and poignant.

We tried Protestant, Lutheran, and Baptist churches. Nothing really stuck. Mostly because I was bored, and too caught up in my own life to see beyond my own self.

One particular event, however, dramatically effected me, and began my calling back to the Lord.

After being divorced for years, raising my son alone, and a very intense relationship ending, I was finding myself feeling alone, distraught, and at a crossroad I didn't understand. I knew a change was needed in my life, but, I literally did not know where to turn. After a tumultuous weekend, I awoke one Sunday, desperate, guilty,and lost. I got down on my knees begging God to let me know I was not alone. I just wanted to know if he heard me, or acknowledged me at all.

I took a ride to one of my favorite hiking areas nearby, where I frequented alone, with friends and with my son. It was a significant place for me to go be with nature, recollect and reconnect. It was a lovely fall day, and I took in the crisp air as I started on the familiar trail.

I walked along, noticing changes the seasons have on different views. I reached the boardwalk which crossed over and through a lovely lake with bogs, teeming with wild birds and noises in the tall grass. I glanced at the spot where I would often lounge and catch some sun, thatI, one day, felt as though I was being watched, only to open my eyes to see a huge herring on the post of the rail staring down at me. As the boardwalk ended and I entered a thicker wooded area, I passed the small paths that led to the woods edge off the main trail. One of them seemed to call to me, but I strolled by the entrance. I few steps past, however, I was pulled back to this opening. I could see the woods only a few hundred feet down the path, so I knew it would go nowhere. Still, I was prompted to keep walking.

As I did, I saw a large tree down just before the path ended. I got close to the tree, and saw what appeared to be a carving on it. When I could make it out, I could not believe my eyes. I was dumbstruck. There were my initials, carved into the tree. My initials. JC. And also those of our Savior. Yep, God heard me that morning. He let me know by leading me down a path which appeared to lead nowhere, yet, led me to acknowledgement. Call it coincidence. Call it what you want. I asked God to let me know I was not alone. And I took a hike that day in the same sanctuary I always walked in, went down a path I never had taken, but had always passed by, only to find my own initials looking back at me.

I took my son there the next weekend. We took pictures. That experience has always stuck with me, popping up when I need to remember in moments of doubt. God hears me.

 I still wasn't frequenting church and God was more of a hotline I'd check into when I was feeling desperate. I had a handful of other "coincidences" in my life that I am sure were God moments, but, I still was not on "the" path. Then 9/11 happened.

I was devastated along with the rest of the world. Full of questions. Why? How? How could? It was a time of deep introspection. For us all.

I reached out to my cousin who also grew up with the Catholic background as I did, but, but who had become a born again Christian. I'll admit, that term made me cringe. The visuals it prompted and the labels  given to this group all made me cautious. But, I had to admit, I admired her commitment to her faith, and the strength she seemed to have with regards to it. The knowing. I wanted some of that. So, on the stairs to my second floor, as she and I talked about the horrific events, my eyes were opened to a God that did not "cause" everything we saw in the world, and that "man" has free will, and often, that free will cause them to do wrong. Sin is everywhere there is skin. I spoke the words she said, accepting Jesus Christ as my Savior, and hung up with still as many questions in my head.

I'd like to say my life took a drastic turn from that point on, but, it didn't. I was basically still the same. But, God had other plans. I had let Jesus become my Lord, and the Holy Spirit was at work, whether I knew it or not.

Two years later, I had bought my first horse. Rescued, really. But with a price. This was a dream come true for me. There were many rocky stops along the road of my new marriage and family, career changes and life challenges. I found a horse trainer I sought out to get help with some bumps I was having retraining my horse. She, too, was a born again Christian. But, she seemed like a "normal" person to me. In the midst of the horse training, I was, inadvertently, getting training on being a Christian. She introduced me to Joyce Myers "Battlefield of the Mind" book, and I ate it up. From that point, I began reading every Christian book I could get my hands on, mostly by Joyce M. It was like my eyes were being finally opened to the truths that I had always wondered about.

I began reading my bible. This was something I had attempted off and on in my life, always with discouragement that usually ending in total confusion. I never "got" what it was saying. But, now, suddenly, it was like the words literally came alive and God was talking directly to ME. Passages would jump out that had direct correlation to what was going on in my life. It was an exciting time. I was growing in the Lord, taking major strides in my walk with Him.

Then, in 2006, my Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. This was the man that was my rock all my life. My hero. One of my best friends. My confidant, my greatest teacher, my protector and the one person who could ALWAYS make me feel valuable and relevant. The news was devastating.

Months passed, and his condition worsened to where it was no longer safe for my 85 year old mom to be his primary caretaker. She was tiny, he was not. And he was beginning to get aggressive. After much family discussion, it was agreed my Dad needed to be admitted to a nursing home. On a Tuesday morning, my brother and I loaded him into the car, not to take him to the day care he had reluctantly been attending, but, to take him to the VA Hospital where he would be evaluated for admission to a local home. Never had I had such a day in my life. I was taking my Dad to put him away. To say it sucked doesn't scratch the surface.

In the admission office, there were lots of documents to review and fill out, and at one point, I ran to the car to get water for us as it was going to be a long day. As I trotted to the car, the reality of what was happening hit me, and the flood gates opened. I started to shake. What was I doing? How could this be happening? My mind started to spiral out of control, when, out of who knows where, these words began to play in my head..."I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Huh? I had NEVER memorized any scripture. I knew the Our Father and Hail Mary, but that was about it. But, over and over, this repeated the entire time at the VA in my head. Out of nowhere.

Well, turns out, this was a scripture that was posted as part of my horse trainer's web page. Apparently, although I never consciously memorized it, it was recorded in my head, and the Holy Spirit made sure I heard it that fateful day.

I managed the day with unexpected calm and tenacity. To this day, I can say, it is purely because of Jesus and His Holy Spirit that I was able to function through the experience. And through all the experiences to come with my Dad's illness to the day he died.

This started a lifelong passion for learning and growing in the Word and deepening my commitment to Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I still stumble, and sometimes fall flat on my face even as I see myself taking a misstep. I am far from where I want to be, but I'm not where I was, and I am on my way to some place better every day.

I read many, many books on Christianity, and a myriad of subjects. Max Lucado is one of my favorite authors. I attended a local church for a few years, and had many aha moments in the pews where it was like God came down and looked right at me, speaking to me through our pastors sermons. I watch many preachers on tv, the internet, and have found a wonderful Christian radio station that I listen to all the time. I am just now starting to discover wonderful praise music, and people tell me I have an inner peace they have never seen before. It is so cool when someone asks what it is I am doing that makes me so level, and I am able to share with them that it is God's work, not mine.

The Lord still continues to work in ways I will never understand but are so thankful for. And, even when there are times when things seem to go unfairly, or unjustly, or hit me blindside, it is a quick process for me to find peace simply by knowing all things work to and for the good of those that believe in and love Him for His purposes. I hope and pray my walk with the Lord brings me closer to knowing him on a deeper personal level and that I find more peace, contentment, blessings, fruit, love and purpose in the plan He has for me. It is my one truth desire to simply know the Lord better, and walk the path he Has laid for me.

Well, weeks have passes since I last wrote . I spent the better part of 2 weeks coordinating and visiting with my son, who is just a year in the army, and his wife, who is due with their first child (my first granddaughter) in a few months. He came back "home" on his first leave, and we were able to spend enough time that it felt like things were the normal I knew before his enlistment.

It was a week of roller coaster emotions, as anyone can imagine. Our routine's were shook up, but 99% of the time, this was exuberantly happy. My son is my only child, and having been a single mom for 9 years means we have a very tight, very special, and very unique bond. And, because I come from a family that typically stays within a "safe range" when it comes to venturing out into life, his enlistment and being so far out of state permanently has been a rough thing to adjust to. What makes it easier is seeing how happy he is with his choice, despite it's challenges and pride, knowing he has committed his life to serving this country. A lot of things can come from that statement; the army is now is first priority to everything else, including his family, his mom, etc., he has chosen to go where they send him when they say to go, to be apart from what he has always known as a normal life, accepting any danger he may be put in, and the ripple effect it has on everyone that loves him in so many ways. It's a true sacrifice. Even before you hit the battlefield. Which is a subject this mom will not ponder until, or if, it ever become necessary. His ominous decision has taught me many lessons, the biggest, to live life to the fullest, now, doing what you feel is true in your heart.

In the past couple months, my animals have had ups and downs. Oliver has more moments that cause us to worry, gasp, cringe, and I am waiting on a call from my vet for the price of at home euthanasia. I have done much research in assessing quality of life for the four legged's here. His is clearly past 50/50, and, I do not see him as the type of dog who's downhill is in a manner where he deteriorates to a lot of nothing. His aging process is clearly progressing with anxiety and restlessness. Perhaps due to pain, or discomfort, or simple confusion. We'll never know the real why. But, we see it progressing.

His tramadol is almost up to the max amount he can have daily. He \sleeps a bit more, except after dinner, when he is now more antsy. He paces, mostly to the kitchen and back. He "wants" to go out more, but now, it's to eat dirt, or whatever he can find popping up around the melting ice and snow. He has thrown up this dirt in the early am's. He has moments where he "finds" me, and stands quietly with me, sometimes enjoying when I get down to love on him, but, sadly, sometimes,not.

If only his demise were with less animation, perhaps it would be clearer, but, I doubt it. Less activity could be confused with comfort, I suppose. His increased confusion and restlessness only makes me know that the day is around the corner, and the first step is getting the price and details worked out.

My horse, Tango, has also had ups and downs. I flew my cousin, a prominent barefoot trimmer, into town to assess and possible help tweak his feet to offer more comfort. Although his hip fracture is the ultimate culprit for his discomfort, his feet play a huge part in his overall ability to  move comfortably, and they were clearly giving him some problems. She flew out one evening, spent most of the following day addressing another local client, and in between that and her flying out, we took care of the inbalances in his feet.

They were most likely caused by his way of going, but, now, his way of going have caused them to grow in a less than supportive manner. Having done hours of training myself years back, I understand the process pretty well, so she has coached me on his needs, and I've been doing my best weekly to keep his feet as "right" as I can for him. He does move better on them, but, it is his hip that is causing the most problems. This is apparent by the hock sore that keeps opening up and growing, then healing a bit, then opening up again, etc.; a spiral that will not end with his need for extra support getting up and down.

His eyes show a difference in his spirit. It is still there, but it wanes. Now I spend time with him, grooming, walking when he can and footing allows, and just hanging out. It does not seem anywhere near fair to ask him to get through another winter. The deep snow, slippery ice, mud causing slippery footing, all of it makes it challenging for him to get around. We could plow and plow and get sand to cover ice, but frankly, we don't have the means, and really, is this what we would do all of next winter for him? Will he be comfortable going months with this type of management? I do not want to part with the horse. I cannot imagine my life without him. But I can't watch him struggle, or to see his eyes go from confident to......not..........and not do something to help alleviate his situation. That day, I hope and pray, will not come until we have seen a warm, grassy spring, summer and fall. I am hopeful and pray he will enjoy these final warmer seasons here with us and we fill up our souls before we say goodbye.

It appears we will be bringing a younger horse home this spring/summer. I have the opportunity to take on a seven year old mare who's personality sounds a bit like Tango's and who is, basically, riderless. My thoughts that having a younger, level headed horse here may take pressure off him to be the alpha still. If it is the "right" match, he will fall in love with her, and she him, and she will be his second in command, until he sees fit to give it over completely. In my heart, I feel this will be the first step in him leaving in his heart, and allowing himself to give into what he has been fighting to take him down.

And as for Oliver, once the call comes from the vet, we will evaluate the soil and grounds. It was not my choice to part with him on a dreary, winter day. A selfish thing probalby. I wanted a sunny day, to sit out in the grassy yard, let him enjoy some warmth and sunshine before he goes. But, I don't think, at this stage, he even knows the difference. The winter has kicked his, and all of our, asses this year. He obviously hates the snow and the ice and the slippery walkways we made for him. His world is mostly dark and silent, and the winter caused all the comfort he could feel beneath him to be covered over. Although I wanted to see that comfort in him once more, I'm not sure we ever will, even if it is a spring day. So, a conversation with the vet, a second look around our yard, and conferring with the calendar are what is next when it comes to our little Oliver.

I suppose the passing of time and having to deal with so much discomfort, on their parts, physically, and mine, emotionally, are making this all more rote than emotional. At times, at least. This year is going to be filled with goodbyes, and hellos. It does cause me to have many "What's it all about, Alfy" moments. Life and death. Its coming to all of us, two and four legged. Where doe we go? What really happens? What does it mean for our time on earth? If we had the answers, then life wouldn't be what it is. But, oh, how I'd love the answers on days like today.

Off to hug, lead, feed, clean and love my kids for another day.

Heavy Hearted Sunday

Funny, I went back to this blog specifically to track my old dog's progress, and now find I need it to track much more.

The winter has been brutally cold this year for my liking. This means I don't spend a lot of time outside, which, in turn, means, not a lot of time spent at the barn. I see my horses numerous times over the day, and give them regular "once overs," but, its not the same. And, things get missed, or happen without my knowing, as I learned on Sunday.

As I was mucking my first stall, I took the normal occasional glances outside, sizing up my herd, watching and taking in the sights. Minutes passed, and something did not feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something felt off.

I continued doing stalls, monitoring the horses from inside the barn. I noticed Tango was not moving around much. He seemed to be in one spot the whole time. This is not like him. Typically  he is on the move, making sure all the horse know he has the power, and will move them around to prove it. Not so today.

Although he did get to more than one pile, he was not motoring around like his normal self. At one point, I tossed some left over alfalfa hay outside, and watched as he took note, and began to head over to see what yummy treats I had thrown into his paddock.

I noticed him gingerly turning, pivoting on his back legs, as opposed to stepping each leg over to turn. Not a good sign. He does have an old hip fracture, but, this was something I had not witnessed before.

He meandered to the new hay I had thrown, moved very slowly around the pile, obviously not wanting to put a lot of pressure on his bad leg. Not good, I thought. I'll need to start giving him more bute.

I continued my barn chores until I was just about done, catching a glimpse every now and then of how he seemed. He consistently moved slow, pivoting awkwardly, and shifting weight on his back legs.

Then I watched as he walked out to the sunny spot along the outside of the paddock fence line, a spot he loves to sun bath. He'd take a few steps, then stop. Rest. A few more steps. Stop. Rest. With his head hanging lower than normal. My heart sunk.

I walked out to him when I was done with the barn work, stopping before I reached him, catching his eye, as I always do, until our eyes engaged with each others. Tango speaks to me through his eyes. As crazy as it sounds, he does.

His head was low, his eyes were sullen, and when they caught mine, they did not light up, his head did not lift, but, he held my stare. I walked the rest of the way to him, hand outstretched, and he slowly reached his nose to me. When I reached him, I wrapped my arms around his neck, looked into his tired eyes, and knew. This is Tango's last winter with me.

I cried a few tears into his neck. His head lifted a little, eyes staring off into the distance and he breathed a heavy sigh. I scratched at his withers for a bit, as he stretched his head out with pleasure. Then, he spun his head back to me, like he always does, and in our eyes, we both knew, I would not ask him to try to get through another New England winter.

No more trenching through deep, thick snow. No more mis-steps on ice, or slippery mud, only to have it followed by more snow, bone chilling cold, and the rest that these winters bring. The old hip fracture we had managed so well together was feeling the ill effects of manipulating over tough terrain, and his body was losing its strength to keep it from progressing.

His eyes seemed to lighten a bit. My heart resolved. There would not be another season of struggling and pain.

He had not shown such obvious signs of discomfort to this point. Or at least, when we've seen them, they've been very temporary and followed by many, many days of normal activity and behavior. Days of him running around, sometimes three legged, but running nonetheless, his big, big spirit exuding from his big frame.  But, Tango is done with winter, and this one has taken a toll.

In the meantime, Oliver will be 18 this year. He is having more accidents, needing to be carried more, and I am probably going to have to increase his medication over the next few months. Casey also continues to slowly decline. Marcus is on and off his grain, and Katy is not eating hay like a normal horse.

This is the season I am in, caring for their last days. I don't know who will go when, but we have crossed into their final seasons. As much as it hurts, I know how blessed I've been to have had these animals with me for this long. As hard as it may be, I will find moments each day to enjoy them and shower them with love and affection, and take whatever they are able to give back to me. And when the day comes that we do say goodbye, I will know I have served them well. My heart may be heavy, but I believe it is because it is filled, more with love, than with sadness.

What a sh*&ty day....literally....

Well, the chronicling of Oliver, and my other farm inhabitants, continues.

The three dogs have been battling a stomach bug. Each of them have had a round of stomach meds, and every day one of them stops their dose, another comes down with diarrhea. All three have had an entire dose, but, over the weekend, Casey started with the runs again. A call to my vet, a sprint to the pharmacy, and he's back on round two of Flagil.

I cleaned up an accident yesterday in the house, and his long, fuzzy fur had implications of it coming from his butt. Ugh. What can you do. He's sick.

Overnight, we hear him at the door scratching to go out. My husband watches as he scoots his butt around at 4:30 am, sorry for his discomfort, but, wanting to be back in bed. I investigate for any signs of an accident, and we all, eventually, go back to sleep.

In the morning, there is another accident. My house is starting to really smell. I need to buy more incense.

Hubby and I go down to the barn to feed breakfast and put our horses out, with one layer of blankets. This is another adventure we've been on recently. Changing weather has meant closer monitoring of water intake, blanketing or not, medications or special supplements needed, how much grain is being eaten vs. left, how much hay is being eaten vs. wasted, and calculating the total for what they are actually ingesting so I can ensure that the two with health issues (not the old hip fracture) maintain their weight over the winter. With the recent arctic blast, my 41 year old had a hard time keeping warm, and for the first time, I double blanketed my horses. Double blanketed!!! I rarely blanket at all. But, owning this farm has taught me that "nothing is etched in stone," "pay attention", and "things change," so my opinions need to, as well.

On top of this, my third a horse, spiritual soulmate #2, with the old hip fracture, is having a hard time weighting on his back legs. I was giving him bute as a precautionary step to keep him comfortable, but backed off when he seemed to make headway. Winters are harder for him.  He needs to navigate through tough, deep snow, and slippery, icy conditions. This is taking a particular toll on him this year, and breaking my heart. To pieces. His spirit is gigantic; it is a shame his body cannot contain it. 

Well, he today showed me he needs his bute. I could barely pick his back feet up to pick them out. This concerns me for his hoof care. He recently got a new barefoot trim I need to keep up with regularly. Hard to do if he can't lift his feet long enough for them to be trimmed properly. But, we will do what we can, and take day by day.

Hubby and I take about 45 minutes to do the morning barn chores together, and rush back to the house, as we both have places to be. The smell hits me as soon as the door opens. There's another accident on the rug. We make a quick, flustered team effort to clean it up, and try to get rid of the smell, putting the dogs out on more time "just in case" before we both head out the door.

I come back home a little over two hours later, to yet ANOTHER wall of dog crap smell. It is on the rug, very runny, and on my soft pine wood floor. Lovely. I am grabbing towels, cleaner, wiping and blotting and rinsing. The dogs go outside again so I can properly clean in a huff. When they come in, I decide to do a canine butt check.

The two old guys are both the culprits. I grab the blankets off our leather sofa we use to line the seats, and throw them, along with towels, in the laundry. One of the dogs jumps on, then off, the sofa, and there is a menacing spot glaring at me. I grab more cleaner, wipe the couch down entirely, grab new dog blankets and once again, line the couch.

Now, I decide to grab the two "guilty" aka "sick" dogs. Warm water, a soft towel, a small pair of scissors, and I am cleaning and trimming them up, trying to get my home back to something somewhat sanitary and clean. The dogs are not thrilled with my antics, but, it is necessary.

Another call to the vet, who asks what I feel we should do, and we decide to treat all three dogs together one last time. HOPEfFULLY, this will ensure this nasty bug is gone from their systems. The 17 and 14 year old, for sure, have weaker immune systems, and the 7 year old is symptom free, for now. I am diligent about going out with them, watching them, and cleaning the yard up. I am a bit concerned with my system for cleaning messes in the house. I want to be sure to sanitize as best I can to keep this cycle from continuing. I decide between bleach and white vinegar, I am disinfecting everything as best as I can.

It's been a long day of shit management! I have another moment where my thoughts go to the days when these geriatric pups are no longer in our life. There is a momentary flash of relief, not just for me and the convenience of not having so much to maintain, but, for them, as well. For them to no longer experience whatever discomfort they are experiencing. I am assuming this discomfort is temporary, and medication will clear up whatever is ailing them, and they will, once again, go back to enjoying their naps, scratches, running for food, trotting along for weekly walks to the barn and jaunts out in the yard. But, I am more and more aware that, eventually, they will not bounce back, and their discomfort will become more frequent than their comfort. Having 2 dogs and 3 horses all circling this turn in life is daunting, sad, and disheartening.

I still find comfort in their adorable and loving spirits. I give them as much love as I can, and take as much back as I can; as they can give.  But, the steps towards their final days are starting to land heavier and heavier, and my heart is following right along.

Progress; Olivers, and mine, or not

Well, first of all, I need to learn more about blogspot. I have a hard time finding where to create a new post. So, for me, not so much in the progress area for blogging. Sigh...

As for Oliver, it's hard to tell, and I'm glad to be documenting it for myself. I can't say he is worse, he is definitely not better, but, there are still moments I have the panic of "Is he okay?"

We've had a week long arctic blast in New England recently, and it's taken a toll on all my older four legged residents. And this two legged one.

Our 41, yes, 41 year old horse, for the first time, had a very hard time getting warm the second morning of the chilling blast. He's not big on eating hay due to his lack of teeth.  Eating hay is one way for a horse to stay warm. He was quite beside himself this particular morning, shivering, hadn't finished his hay, which is hard because he is quidding most of it. (This is when they cannot break it down to ingest, but, instead, roll it around in their mouths, suck as much as they can from it, and drop a "quid" or a long balled up wad of hay on the ground.) Double blanketing, walking him around to get his blood moving, closing his stall up and some warm water, did the trick, and in 45 minutes, he was comfortable. Due to the 10+below 0 temps due to windchill, all my horses got double blanketed until the brutal temps dissipated. I learned some new things in the way of caring for a horse that has a hard time thermo-regulating, and also that it is okay to blanket in certain circumstances. That is progress!

Oliver continues to have moments outside where he is like a wind-up toy, not sure where he's going, anxious to get somewhere, and bouncing off the small snow banks. He even trudged through the inches of unplowed snow a few times, obviously trying to get somewhere fast, but not knowing where he is. It is hard to watch. Then, two hours later, he's back out; sure footed and fine.

He sleeps most of the morning, and I usually wake him up gently before noon to bring him out for a pee. Then, he is alert and upright for a while, until finally settling on the couch. If I could, I would take him for a walk every day. This is impossible, however. I need to really keep an eye on him, so I can't take the other dogs with him. Jacki, the younger of the three, and Casey, the other elderly dog, race around, from window to window, while we are outside. Casey in jeopardy of Jacki bowling him over in her excitement. So, I try to go out in the fenced area with the three of them, and walk "with" Oliver. He likes the company, and tends to follow along most of the times, doing a big loop and getting some good daily exercise. However, with this ice cold weather, he just wants back in. And so do I.

He starts to act up, aware of the time 45 minutes before supper time. Once I feed them, we all go outside.  They stretch their legs, poop, pee and I pick up the yard. Once we go back in, Ollie's activity tends to depend on mine. If I'm busy doing things in the house or on the computer, he is pacing. But, if I sit and put my legs up with the tv on, he snuggles on the couch and relaxes. The pacing starts again after 7:30, which is an hour before "medication time," when he gets his last Tramadol for the night. Usually an hour after that, he settles down.

He is getting a very low dose of Tramadol. Right now he gets 3/4 of a tablet. My vet says he can have up to 1.5. I figure, as, or if, he gets worse, I will up the dose to his maximum. Once the maximum doesn't keep him comfortable, then we have to make decisions.

In 4 months we've doubled his dose. I really thought he would decline more quickly, but he seems to be holding his own. I am fairly certain his times of being unsettled are not related to an acute pain per say, but a general and low level discomfort, whether its dementia or physically related . He shows no signs of physical pain. I think he gets bored, and living in his mostly dark and quiet world due to hearing and vision loss are just unfamiliar enough to cause him to look for activity, or reassurance, maybe. The more we interact with him, the better he is. The reality is, though, I can't interact with him all day long. So, I try to check in with him numerous times a day.

There is progress. I am understanding and managing him in a manner that gives him love, comfort and support, even if it's not every second of every day. It is a huge "inconvenience" for us "humans", but even as soon as I type this, I need to immediately follow it with, we don't "feel" inconvenienced. This little dog has had a pivotal place in our lives. There is an unending, immeasurable love between us. I would never euthanize him due to an inconvenience. When I see, feel, or know that he is in pain, suffering, or lost his will to live, I will know it is time to let him go.This blog is progress enough for me at this time,

Ollie update, among other things

What a difference a day makes. Or, a week. Or  just plain old time.

The day I blogged about following Oliver around, stressing about his health and aging process, was a stressful day. By the time the "feeding frenzy," as I call it, rolled around, I was maxed out.

The feeding frenzy occurs between 3:30 and 4:30 in the afternoon. I feed the 3 dogs, who are getting the bulk of their medications (those that need them).  There is a particular dance to this process.  Pick up the three bowls. Fill them with the appropriate amount of homemade dog food (which we tweaked, so we now have 2 recipes, older guys, and younger girl), add the necessary medications and/or supplements. Meanwhile, the three dogs are at my feet, staring. Well, Ollie isn't staring, he's mostly blind. But, he's there, looking up and dog, shifting his weight in anticipation. Casey is whining. Loudly. The frequency increases the longer it takes me. I am much too slow for him. Jacki sits politely, waiting, tail wagging.

Pick up 2 prepared bowls for Ollie and Casey. Casey now realizes what is going on and starts to hop around on his back legs, which is very bad for him, so I am expedient in my delivery time. I have to hold his little dish just over his head, keeping his attention on it, so he will follow it. Meanwhile, I am lowering Oliver's dish down in front of his nose, as he follows the smell, placing it on his mat for him to enjoy. Casey is hopping in circles (NO!!!) until I put his down on his box, which he dives into like a fiend. Jacki waits patiently. I grab her bowl and place it in her stand, grab 2 treats for Coco, our 12 year old Maincoon cat, who has joined the party, looking for treats on the kitchen island.

Ok. Dogs are good. They will need to go out in the front yard after dinner for poop time.

I head to the barn, bring the horses in, stir and grab their feed from the tack room where I strategically also feed the barn cats that we cannot let outside yet, placing their dishes down just before I exit so they are not interested in sneaking out the door. I deliver said horse feed, and head back to the house to let the dogs out. Once the dogs have their daily constitution and a jaunt in the yard (as I am helping Ollie up and down the stairs, picking poop and tossing in the woods) I go BACK to the barn,  pick the paddock, give the horses a once over, grab their bowls and set up breakfast. Everyone is acting like their normal selves and pets are settled in for the night.

Well, on this particularly stressful day of following Oliver, I am ready to get in the car and go somewhere, anywhere, for a much needed attitude adjustment. I rush out to meet a girlfriend to get my toes done at a local shop, but they are too busy, so I pass on that, and we go to dinner, enjoying some Chardonnay as a reward for surviving another exceptionally stressful day.

I am looking forward to tomorrow.

Unfortunately, fate felt otherwise. My day was not through.

That night, my mare, Katy, had a bad colic. We found her laying in the snow, caked in ice.

Katy's had numerous health issues, so at first, we weren't sure what was going on with her. Colic? Another bout of lyme or erlichea? Hormonal issue? She wasn't presenting typical colic signs, and has no history of colic. But a history of weird health issues, she has had. No temp, definitely uncomfortable, but not necessarily an emergency (I am not one to call the vet right away until I know it's something  I cannot  manage and have luckily managed 95% of their issues with my vets approvals and blessings). We give her  medication and check her an hour later.  She is more comfortable, so we wait til morning, assuming whatever she is battling will have subsided.

Wrong. She is worse in the morning. so I call my local vet right away. Something is wrong and she is not working out of it this time. I walk her over an hour, talking, begging, with an occasional shout at no one  in particular: WHY is this happening?? My POOR "kids!!!"

The vet comes; it's colic and probably life threatening. After reaching, past his elbow into her rectum, she has an obvious problem. The day shrinks away and all I see is her, her pain, and my inability to help. My husband turns around and comes home from work (now you KNOW it's serious). We call a neighbor, who comes to dig a hole. We discuss where, how big, etc. the hole should be and what will happen when it is time for Katy to be placed in it. My head is spinning, and my stomach is churning.

The first dig finds water 3 feet from the top soil. We need another spot to bury our horses. Not the place we always planned to bury them. More talk about holes. And how to get her in it. What he will have to do with her body. It is surreal.

By now, I've have accepted this. She is in pain, and I will not let her suffer. We discuss holes, bodies, burials. I head back to the barn to sit with her. My sleeves are wet from catching tears.

She is very quiet, medicated, but not exhibiting signs of discomfort anymore. It's because of the medication, I'm told by the vet. I grab my camp chair, open her door and sit in her doorway. She comes over, hangs her head down slowly, until it is on my chest, resting, sleeping, looking for comfort and rest. My heart is broken, but being filled by the love we share. Slowly, I am accepting this is what is best for my friend, and I am making peace with having to help her pass.

An hour goes by. She is still "quiet." I give call to a long time vet/friend  who checks our horses once a year, to update her. She tells me, "if she is not exhibiting signs of pain, giver her time. Days if you have to. See what she "tells" you.

We are now on mare watch. Oliver's needs have vanished into the background.  Bob, my husband, takes an occasional walk to the house to let the dogs out and make sure all is well. I continue to wait, watch, and walk Katy when she seems up to it. Is she perking up a bit? I'm not sure. I want her to. Maybe I am seeing what I want.

Hours go by. Bob is bringing me coffee, rubbing my back, taking me in for a hug between tears of grief and sighs of acceptance. My sister calls to check in off and on, and stops by to give me a hug, as well. She's been through the loss of a horse. My phone is going off with text messages of support.  You only understand if you've been through it.

I have a vet appointment for Casey, so Bob takes over "Katy colic watch" for an hour while we head to the office. Casey if 14, and is no longer as spry as he was.  I am told by the vet that he has a heart block, which means his heart literally stops at various times, and his age is definitely catching up with him. This is a serious health issue with a grave prognosis.  He also has, probably, a stomach virus. I get meds for the virus, but am acutely aware that his days are now also numbered (as are everyone's, really) and take him home to let him sleep off the trauma of the vet visit. He does not enjoy the vet.

Wednesday turns into night, and Thursday morning, and by Thursday night, to our astonishment, Katy is perking up!!  Our horror has turned into hope. We start to feed her little bits of very soaked grain, and the management begins. How much do we feed her of what and when? There are constant checks for manure. Do her eyes seem brighter to you? I have now become an expert at equine heart rate monitoring, and, thanks be to the Lord, hers is consistently normal. She is out of the woods. We hope.

Now we wonder, "do we fill the hole I've been glaring at outside my kitchen window?" We can dig it up again if need be. Should we give her more time to be sure she's worked out of whatever ailed her?  We will have to fill the hole if it's not going to be used so it doesn't freeze as a large pile and gaping hole. I have never thought about this part of owning a farm, until it backed me into this corner. Reality can be very abrasive.

By Friday evening we decide, yes, fill the hole. She is back on an adjusted "regular" schedule.  We are still, however, on high alert, watching every detail to stay on top of how she seems to be feeling.

The scare with Katy prompted us to gather the three dogs; 17 year old Ollie, 14 year old Casey and 7 year old Jacki Friday afternoon. We put their leashes and harnesses on, grab the camera, and take them  for a walk to the barn. This is something they usually all enjoy, but is difficult for just one person to manage. The weather was mild, and the ice had melted. We head down the driveway, Bob with Casey and Jacki, and I with Oliver. The two old guys are moving slow, but, moving, nonetheless.

Once we hit the barn, there is an overflow of sniffing. Ollie and Casey are on a mission to smell every thing they can, tails wagging, intent on their jobs. Luckily, Oliver seems to remember when I snap the button on the extendable leash, its a message to follow my lead. Blind, deaf, no matter, he feels that snap and we are in sync. Jacki, who accompanies us regularly to the barn, is already in a stall, looking for leftover grain.

When we get inside the barn, I made sure Oliver has help navigating in any precarious spots, but, the moment comes when, voila, he perks up!! His head popps up, his tail goes straight in the air, and off he goes towards the paddock. When we get outside, I pick him up to carry him over to the horses. Immediately, his feet start peddling, demanding to be put down. He sniffs around, following me as best he can towards where the three horses are hanging out. When we get close, I pick him up so he can say hello to Tango, our alpha gelding and second love of my life. Oliver and Tango are buddies. Tango extends his nose out, sniffing softly, and Ollie gives him, then me, and excited quick doggie kiss. Heaven.

We hang out for a few minutes, take some pictures, then head back to the house. Ollie and Casey both need to be carried in a few spots, but all in all, our walk to the barn is blissful. Everyone is happy, and snuggles on the couch for a nap.  Again, heaven.

That evening, Bob and I put our feet up and breathe a sigh of relief. We made it through, came out the other side of  the less-than-perfect part of pet owning and running a farm. We seem to have dodged a very painful bullet. We toast each other with a beer, sit back and relax, happy to be rid of the grip of dread, seeing all our animals settled in, content and in no danger. All is well at DunRoamin Farm. Tonight.

The next morning, Marcus does not finish his breakfast.  I make a note, give him an extra rub and scan him for longer than usual, silently praying, and get on with my day. It is unpredictable, emotional, often draining, but always rewarding to be living this lifestyle we have chosen for this stage of our lives. I am hoping that the next few days remain uneventful.