Keep non-horse people away from horses
The good - my job with the government is officially permanent. My first official day as a permanent employee was December 1st.
The bad - I invited my branch, Martino's branch and all our non-government friends to come out and celebrate at an Irish pub called O'Hanlon's tonight for a drink after work. Not counting Martino, 3 people came. Fucking weak. Turns out I am that much of a loser. Oh well. I met some people at the bar and we ended up having a great time anyway. Fuck the rest of them. Turns out the phrase "Oh my god - I LOVE bacon!" is a great ice-breaker. Who knew?
The ugly - Afterward Martino came out to help me doctor Champ's leg. Now, I'm 5-beer deep - no exactly my most sober. I sprayed all the body spots, found a few chunks of new loose hair, and announced to the barn manager - who was cleaning stalls when I arrived at 10pm - that I would be getting a round of penicillin from the vet tomorrow.
I sprayed the body spots, then gave Martino a brief tutorial on how to hold a hind leg up on an unwilling horse. Hold the leg away from the body, rest it on the thigh, hand on the heel, hand on the hoof, hold to beat hell, call out a warning if you have to let go. I warned him that Champ would try to pull away, because I was going to hurt him.
Well. The scabs were actually coming off, and in my slightly enibriated stated I was ecstatic about this. I picked them a little bit, not intending to do much, but letting the loose stuff slough off when I rubbed it.
Champ didn't like. Though I praised and rubbed him when he tolerated it, he still gave a good pull at one point. He leapt up with his hind right, thereby putting all his weight on Tino. Tino - not being well versed in horses - let go and didn't move out of the way near fast enough. So of course he got stepped on. The way he was rolling on the ground and screaming I thought for sure his foot was broken. So me - being intoxicated and generally unsympathetic to begin with - I finished doctoring Champ with his leg loose. I asked Martino if he thought his foot was broken and did he need to go to the hospital. He replied that I was too drunk to drive him anyway. I replied that a loved one's injuries had a way of sobering a person up right quick. I may have asked if it was actually broken or was he just being a pussy. This did not help matters. I may have said that if I had a nickel for every time I'd been stepped on by a horse I'd have a shitload of nickels. This did not make him feel better.
I put Champ away, then swept the aisle - after all, I don't want to spread the bacteria. I was planning on loading up all my equipment to disinfect, but obviously that wasn't going to happen. I asked Tino again if he thought is foot was broken. He said no. So we went home.
When we got home he sat down on the couch and I gave his foot a good once over. It didn't look like anything was broken, but I did find out that he has one nasty-ass case of athlete's foot. Ew. And I don't think we have anything to treat it at the moment. Gross. Nasty-ass, scabby rain rot I'm cool with, but crusty, stinky athlete's foot? *puke*
So yeah. Turns out we horse people are made of sterner stuff than the average human, because if I rolled on the ground and squalled like that every time I got my foot crushed by a horse, well, I'd have spent more time on my back than a two-dollar whore.
And people wonder why I can't get Martino to ride horses.
The bad - I invited my branch, Martino's branch and all our non-government friends to come out and celebrate at an Irish pub called O'Hanlon's tonight for a drink after work. Not counting Martino, 3 people came. Fucking weak. Turns out I am that much of a loser. Oh well. I met some people at the bar and we ended up having a great time anyway. Fuck the rest of them. Turns out the phrase "Oh my god - I LOVE bacon!" is a great ice-breaker. Who knew?
The ugly - Afterward Martino came out to help me doctor Champ's leg. Now, I'm 5-beer deep - no exactly my most sober. I sprayed all the body spots, found a few chunks of new loose hair, and announced to the barn manager - who was cleaning stalls when I arrived at 10pm - that I would be getting a round of penicillin from the vet tomorrow.
I sprayed the body spots, then gave Martino a brief tutorial on how to hold a hind leg up on an unwilling horse. Hold the leg away from the body, rest it on the thigh, hand on the heel, hand on the hoof, hold to beat hell, call out a warning if you have to let go. I warned him that Champ would try to pull away, because I was going to hurt him.
Well. The scabs were actually coming off, and in my slightly enibriated stated I was ecstatic about this. I picked them a little bit, not intending to do much, but letting the loose stuff slough off when I rubbed it.
Champ didn't like. Though I praised and rubbed him when he tolerated it, he still gave a good pull at one point. He leapt up with his hind right, thereby putting all his weight on Tino. Tino - not being well versed in horses - let go and didn't move out of the way near fast enough. So of course he got stepped on. The way he was rolling on the ground and screaming I thought for sure his foot was broken. So me - being intoxicated and generally unsympathetic to begin with - I finished doctoring Champ with his leg loose. I asked Martino if he thought his foot was broken and did he need to go to the hospital. He replied that I was too drunk to drive him anyway. I replied that a loved one's injuries had a way of sobering a person up right quick. I may have asked if it was actually broken or was he just being a pussy. This did not help matters. I may have said that if I had a nickel for every time I'd been stepped on by a horse I'd have a shitload of nickels. This did not make him feel better.
I put Champ away, then swept the aisle - after all, I don't want to spread the bacteria. I was planning on loading up all my equipment to disinfect, but obviously that wasn't going to happen. I asked Tino again if he thought is foot was broken. He said no. So we went home.
When we got home he sat down on the couch and I gave his foot a good once over. It didn't look like anything was broken, but I did find out that he has one nasty-ass case of athlete's foot. Ew. And I don't think we have anything to treat it at the moment. Gross. Nasty-ass, scabby rain rot I'm cool with, but crusty, stinky athlete's foot? *puke*
So yeah. Turns out we horse people are made of sterner stuff than the average human, because if I rolled on the ground and squalled like that every time I got my foot crushed by a horse, well, I'd have spent more time on my back than a two-dollar whore.
And people wonder why I can't get Martino to ride horses.