Don’t tell my boyfriend, but this face? This is the love of my life.
Author: Amanda
Now, with video!
I asked the barn manager to film me jogging Tris out on Monday afternoon so I could send it to the vet. Good news: he actually looks not half bad! He’s not 100% sound (that’s too much to hope for) but he looks good enough that the vet was impressed. I’ve asked her if he looks good enough to start handwalking; still waiting on that answer.
Walk and trot from behind:
And walk and trot from the side:
Happy pony
Finally, encouragement
I arrived at the barn this morning around 10:30 to groom and play with Tristan before his scheduled massage at 11:00. Grooming was easy – he loves to roll and it’s always great when there’s snow on the ground, since he basically keeps himself clean.
Equine Intelligence Test
I am so trying this on Sunday!
Hat tip to Eventing Nation for this video:
My guess? Tris will pause long enough to GLARE at me, and then flip the bucket end over end. 2 seconds, max. I’ll report back!
Further adventures in stupidity
You know you’re a horse person when you write a $400 check for vet bills without a qualm, but dither all day about getting your possibly broken foot examined because of the $50 ER co-pay.
Currently waiting on my x-ray results. I’d be surprised if it’s broken, but better safe than sorry, I guess.
So tired of this…
Saturday night, about 24 hours after the farrier visit: heat back in the foot, swelling in the fetlock, lame at the walk.
I groomed him briefly, went home, and had a rather spectacular meltdown.
Sunday, I came out the other side determined to do stuff. So I took him out of his stall and groomed him thoroughly. I massaged his shoulders. I worked on clicker training with him: loading the clicker, then taking him into the ring and teaching him to touch his nose to a blue bucket. He was slightly bewildered at the idea of having to do things in order to get treats – kept glaring at me and nudging both my pockets and my clicker hand, once he realized the click meant treats. And one or two times I stretched my distance from the bucket too far and “broke” it, and he stalked off in a huff to the other end of the ring, standing at the door that led back to the aisle. But he came back, and I settled for one more good target on the bucket and then he was done.
Monday, I did the same thing, and when I saw that he’d had enough of the bucket I did a little bit of confirming his “back” command with the clicker, clicking when he moved a foot back in conjunction with the command. He once again didn’t much see the point of having to work for treats, but he had clearly caught on a bit more than Sunday.
Still heat, though. Still a bit of swelling. Even through the bute.
New crazy theory: is he brewing another abscess? I’ll try to call the vet this afternoon and run the idea by her, have her take a look at the x-rays and see if there’s anything that might indicate that. The other thing that causes so much heat in a hoof is laminitis, and that doesn’t make sense to me, based on all his physical and environmental factors.
I have a work thing until late tonight, so I’ll check on him again tomorrow night, and by then I’ll have decided whether to start wrapping the foot again and perhaps poulticing.
More Waiting
I’ll be brief, because there isn’t a lot of hard, clear information and because speculation makes me nervous.
The farrier tried to pull Tristan’s shoes and begin to trim without sedation. No dice. Tris started flipping around as soon as the farrier picked up his foot. So he got tranq’d. I’m not sure how to solve this one now. He’s been good as gold for me, and I can’t in good conscience ask the farrier to expose himself to physical danger and take up large amounts of time working through this. He wasn’t being pushy, unusually quick, or really anything – steady, gentle, purposeful movement and Tris just did. not. want.
So farrier pulled the front shoes and did an initial trim, and then the vet shot x-rays of the RF. She did quite a few, including a navicular series, and determined two things based on x-rays. First, medial lateral balance was off, but not spectacularly so. Second, she did not like the look of the navicular bone. She thought she saw a loss of bone density and possibly some changes toward the back that were new bone growth in compensation for out of balance foot. She also thought she saw some deterioration of the bone in his toe – third phalanges – but couldn’t make a clear determination because the bad hoof from the abscess was so junky it was obscuring the x-ray. She’s going to keep looking at them with more leisure on a bigger screen, and in comparison with all the other previous x-rays, and possibly send them out to a specialist.
X-rays also showed that the LF is clean as a whistle, so any damage to the navicular in the RF is because of the poor balance there. That says to me at least – though vet was being admirably circumspect and cautious – that the damage was caused externally and is, while clearly not reversible, able to be stopped.
Joints continue to look good, and sole depth is remarkable, so those are two things not to worry about. The hoof growing down behind the abscess is straight and solid. With the x-rays the farrier and the vet both agreed he could take off much more toe than it looked like he could from an external view, so Tris’s foot got trimmed back again. The bottom holes are alllllmost to the ground now. He also set the hoof back fairly significantly to move the breakover back and ease pressure on the heel. With the vet’s input, we left shoes off his hind feet, so hooray for that.
When the farrier pulled the shoe from his RF, the abscess hole was clearly visible from the bottom, and HUGE. I am really regretting not taking a picture. I could easily have put my index finger into it up to the first knuckle. It was awful. Vet and farrier were duly impressed, and said they could smell not current infection but a sort of rank smell from old, dank infection. Ugh. I can’t wait until the whole thing is gone. At this rate, the upper hole will be probably another 3 trims away from the bottom, maybe 4.
So. Plan going forward. I’ll send all previous x-rays to the vet for comparison (she’s already got the fall’s, but I’ll send her the views from a few years ago). She’ll let me know if she wants to send them out. Tris has dramatically shortened feet but better balanced feet, and he’ll be on 2g of bute a day until Tuesday to help him adjust. Next Friday I’ll drag M. to the barn and jog him out and get a video to send to the vet.
I am still hopeful. Perhaps foolishly at this point. I’m not exactly cheerful – I’ve been close to tears basically since Tris started flailing at the farrier yesterday afternoon, and that doesn’t look like it will go away soon. But I have a sort of internal logic worked out in my head that says that if any damage to the navicular was caused by bad balance, we can correct the balance and compensate, and keep an eye on him. It may mean we don’t jump any more, it may mean I get picky about footing, it may mean he’s shod up front for the rest of his life. Whatever it takes to keep him comfortable and happy is what I’ll do. I just hope that happens to coincide with being able to ride him again.
The Waiting Game
You know what I suck at? Waiting. I’m great at planning, I’m great at figuring all the tiny little details out but then when I’m left waiting for everything to come together, for all the pieces I’ve put in play to line up, I start to fret and twitch and basically lose my mind bit by bit.
Which is my way of saying that last night I basically cycled between nightmares about a big program I have coming up at work and Tristan’s vet appointment tomorrow.
I would like to ride my horse again someday, universe. Even if all we ever do is trail riding, I would just like to sit on his back again. I’m trying not to get desperate, but it’s really hard to watch him limp around each time I go visit and still not quite know why. It’s hard to have all these hopes and plans for the way we’ll fix it but not have any level of confidence in whether they’ll work out.
(A friend’s horse just got over an abscess in a week and is sound again and I am so jealous and maybe a little bit bitter and a horrible person for being either, but I can’t figure out where I went wrong somewhere in this whole mess.)
Moving Forward
Some planning progress, finally: farrier will be out early next week, probably Monday or Tuesday. I just chatted to the vet, and we’ll all meet at the barn to do a full workup.
Schedule will go something like this: pull shoes, do x-rays, have vet and farrier look at the x-rays together, tranq him to trim, possibly do another set of x-rays (I’m budgeting for it if they want, to check angles etc., if they’re all going to be there might as well do it 100%), then keep him tranq’d to put shoes back on.
My worst case right now is a mechanical founder with accompanying soft tissue tears. I think he’d be more lame than that, but the shape of the foot is so awful I am afraid of coffin bone movement, which almost certainly guarantees soft tissue strain or tear. If it’s severe enough, he goes into crisis management mode and we use a recommended local farrier for regular trims every 2 weeks or so to micro-adjust and try to compensate.
My best case scenario is simply major discomfort from underrun and long heels, combined with the flair and the missing hoof wall from the abscess, and the farrier is able to take significant foot off and relieve a great deal of that. My magical scenario is an instant cure but I think he’s been too sore for too long to expect that.
What will probably happen is some middle ground with waiting: x-rays show clean but there’s clearly soft tissue strain, and the foot can’t be entirely corrected with this shoeing, so he may be on a longer-term painkiller to keep him moving more easily until the next shoeing. I’m about 95% certain that the worst of the missing foot will be gone after the next trim, in another 6 weeks. I think it will be April or May before the top hole – at the coronet band originally – grows out. I think it will be another 6-9 months after that before the scar tissue from the coronet band stops growing out lumpy. (It’s easing up a bit already, thankfully.)
Someday I should write this all up clinically and submit it to a vet somewhere, because wtf, people. Worst. Abscess. Ever.


