The husband snapped this picture of Emilie and me a few days back. Apparently, sitting is a thing for Jutland drafts. I thought at first that it was a back or health issue, but I have been flooded with pictures of these horses sitting on their sizable asses.
Emilie’s colic kept going on day three, and she was clearly in a lot of pain. Dehydration was starting to set in as well, as she refused food or drink. We hospitalized her yesterday to make sure she got salts and fluids and proper care.
They called us this morning to tell us that the colic had gone critical. She needed surgery.
They called ten minutes ago to tell us that surgery went well and she will make a full recovery. Her intestines had twisted around each other (the medical term is volvulus), and if she had not been opened up and, well, cleaned out, she would have died.
She will be fine.
Going back to hospital was hard. It’s just two weeks ago that Pilar died there. I was not ready to see it again. I was not ready to see another sedated, suffering horse. I think I’m running out of tears. But she will be fine. They’re going to keep her for a couple of weeks to make sure there are no complications and she heals (intestinal surgery is rather heavy weight as surgery goes), but she is expected to make a full recovery with no lasting effects whatsoever.
I am going to treat her like a glass princess.
Poor Emilie. First she got moved away to a new home and had to find her place in a new herd. The weather got to freezing and maybe she didn’t drink quite as much as she should. Then the grumpiest couple of mares were taken out all day and she saw her chance to go nuts on a 100 kilo hay bale.
For the record, the latter was not a good idea. She’s spent the last day and night watched over for colic. Two vet checks, paraffin oil treatments, the works. Arms up her rump. Hose down her nose to feed the oil and fluid with salt and electrolytes.
It’s not fun to be pony this week.
I am so impressed with her, though. Every damned thing, she takes it in stride. Do you need to do this? Okay, then. I’ll tell you that I don’t like it, and then we do it. Because if you say we have to do it, then we gotta do it. She’s freaking four years old, I expected her to be more, well, childish about things.
Alvin spent the night with her but vet has cleared her for being alone tonight. It’s one of those colics that take frustratingly long time to pass but does not pose a real risk of more severe injury. We’ve got her covered on painkillers and mashes with more water than grain, and hopefully, she should be all right, if tired, tomorrow.