survive that night, and the IV fluids made a world of difference to their patient. Although he was nowhere near strong enough to go without the sling yet, he seemed brighter, his eyes were less sunken, and Heather felt certain that she had made the right choice. What they needed now was time to get nutrients into him and to help him regain his strength. They’d also need a lot of luck so they wouldn’t run into secondary problems with internal organs or with his feet.
Over the coming days, Gunner slowly began to comeback. Heather was still working very hard at the hospital and had to be up by 3:30 a.m. to change Gunner’s IV bag, get herself ready, and leave the house by 4:30 a.m. if she was going to be at work by 7:30 a.m.
Maria was working to get her school up and running again, but most of Gunner’s care fell to her throughout the day. He was beginning to eat a little more hay each day and was gradually able to spend more and more time out of the body sling, although they continued to support him in it for a couple of weeks. Maria groomed him and bathed his damaged eye and dressed his wounds, and gave him what he needed the most … a soothing voice and a gentle hand. Outwardly, he was beginning to heal, but he was very quiet. The spirited young horse was no longer there. His ordeal had taken such a lot out of him.
As exhausted as she was, Heather would arrive home late and spend time with Wes and Gunner and her mother. She was devoted to Gunner’s care and pitched in as best she could. On the days when she didn’t work, she took over his care entirely.
Weeks passed, and Gunner began to put on weight and no longer needed the sling. He was able to get out now for short walks and a bit of paddock time with his buddy, Buttermilk. He was still eating only hay and a bitof fresh grass. Heather and Dr. White agreed that starting him on grain too soon could lead to laminitis, an inflammation of the hooves, especially if the circulation had been compromised for any length of time before they’d gotten him on his feet. Every gain had to be approached gradually, and Heather waited until the end of January before she began offering him small bran mashes. Gunner had always dug into his grain greedily, but now he picked and nibbled and ate halfheartedly.
His lack of spirit became a larger issue for Heather than his physical wounds. His eye had cleared with the antibiotic treatments and care, but it was dull now – black and visionless. It didn’t seem to be paining him any longer. But the good eye, that fierce blue eye that had challenged her so boldly at times, was also dull. He did what he was directed to do. He ate what he was given to eat. But there was very little life behind his actions. Heather greatly missed her sassy, bossy colt.
At times, there would be subtle reminders that he was still there inside. Sometimes, he rested his head against them as they changed a leg wrap or nickered a soft greeting when they came into the barn. He leaned into the brush as they cleaned and cared for him. He watched as they worked around the barn. It wasn’t much yet, but it was something. Heather hoped that, withtime, they’d start to see more and more of him.
By mid-February, almost six months after the hurricane, Heather began to notice her mother complaining about “that horse.” “That horse will not keep his leg wraps on,” she’d say. “I straighten them out in the morning, and by lunch he’s got them all pulled off, trampled in the shavings, and tangled around his legs.”
One day she came home to find her mother grinning, but trying to act annoyed. “That horse squashed another one of my hens!” she announced, and Heather burst out laughing. Gunner was back.
With every passing day now, Gunner was gaining strength and his old personality was shining through. The only difference was that he was more affectionate than ever before, demanding attention and raising a ruckus if he didn’t get it. He was digging into
Over the coming days, Gunner slowly began to comeback. Heather was still working very hard at the hospital and had to be up by 3:30 a.m. to change Gunner’s IV bag, get herself ready, and leave the house by 4:30 a.m. if she was going to be at work by 7:30 a.m.
Maria was working to get her school up and running again, but most of Gunner’s care fell to her throughout the day. He was beginning to eat a little more hay each day and was gradually able to spend more and more time out of the body sling, although they continued to support him in it for a couple of weeks. Maria groomed him and bathed his damaged eye and dressed his wounds, and gave him what he needed the most … a soothing voice and a gentle hand. Outwardly, he was beginning to heal, but he was very quiet. The spirited young horse was no longer there. His ordeal had taken such a lot out of him.
As exhausted as she was, Heather would arrive home late and spend time with Wes and Gunner and her mother. She was devoted to Gunner’s care and pitched in as best she could. On the days when she didn’t work, she took over his care entirely.
Weeks passed, and Gunner began to put on weight and no longer needed the sling. He was able to get out now for short walks and a bit of paddock time with his buddy, Buttermilk. He was still eating only hay and a bitof fresh grass. Heather and Dr. White agreed that starting him on grain too soon could lead to laminitis, an inflammation of the hooves, especially if the circulation had been compromised for any length of time before they’d gotten him on his feet. Every gain had to be approached gradually, and Heather waited until the end of January before she began offering him small bran mashes. Gunner had always dug into his grain greedily, but now he picked and nibbled and ate halfheartedly.
His lack of spirit became a larger issue for Heather than his physical wounds. His eye had cleared with the antibiotic treatments and care, but it was dull now – black and visionless. It didn’t seem to be paining him any longer. But the good eye, that fierce blue eye that had challenged her so boldly at times, was also dull. He did what he was directed to do. He ate what he was given to eat. But there was very little life behind his actions. Heather greatly missed her sassy, bossy colt.
At times, there would be subtle reminders that he was still there inside. Sometimes, he rested his head against them as they changed a leg wrap or nickered a soft greeting when they came into the barn. He leaned into the brush as they cleaned and cared for him. He watched as they worked around the barn. It wasn’t much yet, but it was something. Heather hoped that, withtime, they’d start to see more and more of him.
By mid-February, almost six months after the hurricane, Heather began to notice her mother complaining about “that horse.” “That horse will not keep his leg wraps on,” she’d say. “I straighten them out in the morning, and by lunch he’s got them all pulled off, trampled in the shavings, and tangled around his legs.”
One day she came home to find her mother grinning, but trying to act annoyed. “That horse squashed another one of my hens!” she announced, and Heather burst out laughing. Gunner was back.
With every passing day now, Gunner was gaining strength and his old personality was shining through. The only difference was that he was more affectionate than ever before, demanding attention and raising a ruckus if he didn’t get it. He was digging into
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