Stupid Texas Dirt


So it’s definitely hell getting old(er).

For those who don’t know, I have autoimmune issues, which means my joints get all jacked up and painful and stupid sometimes (among other things), making me resemble a 95-year-old elephant more than a 36-year-old (weird) woman sometimes. I also have a pill organizer because I’m on so many meds. Well, Ollie has decided he wants to bond with me more by joining me in falling apart as he pushes into middle age.

First, he’s decided that the Texas soil does not agree with him.

Ugh.

Seriously, WTF

OK, so first we decide to have monsoon season, where it rained for about 5,872 days straight. We were close to ark-building times, for real. I was ready to tear down my money pit house (that’s another set of stories) for scraps from which to build it. Meanwhile, Ollie was growing hoof like nobody’s freaking business. Like he had enough growth for everyone at the barn and then some. It was growing so fast that I thought there was something wrong with him. I mean, really – NOTHING about Ollie is motivated to do anything, and then suddenly his hoof is overachieving? SHENANIGANS.

Then, it finally stopped raining.

And the ground that was recently flooded started turning into cement and cracking WITHIN A WEEK. WTF, TEXAS. YOU MAKE-A NO SENSE-A.

And then Ollie’s feet started cracking and chipping and losing mass faster than a supermodel on a diet. Maybe he has hoof-self-worth image issues. GOD, cut him some slack.

So my horse with usually textbook-perfect BAREFOOT feet might now have to get shoes for the first time in his life. He got a short short trim today, and we’re going to reassess in two weeks.

Yeah. Thanks, Texas.

 

And, per usual, he was a big dog with the farrier.

And then.

Recently, he’s been reluctant to pick up one particular hoof, and buckling after I get it picked up. I thought he was perhaps just being a turd (it’s his favorite hobby, besides eating). But since he was getting his Coggins pulled today, thought I might as well ask. She flexed him and then asked me to jog him. (which, by the way, jogging a horse through deep sand arena footing is HARD. OMG I WAS GOING TO DIE).

Her assessment? He’s not lame, but he was stiff. I did let her know that some of that could be attributed to OH MY GOD, OLLIE, MOVE laziness. She said that given his size and the fact he’s approaching middle age (12), he should start getting some supplement injections now to be cautious. GREAT. ALL WE NEED IS ANOTHER SUPPLEMENT. HIS SMART PAK IS LONGER THAN HIS TAIL (As Felicia likes to hysterically point out).

So Ollie – my Big Lug, my Dippy McFattyPants, my Dude – is getting older. I hear ya bud. I feel it too.