A Note About This Blog

I used to be a writer. Unpublished, but a writer just the same. I have several 100,000 word novels sitting on my hard drive. Then I fell off a horse and got a concussion that scrambled my brains really good (yes, I was wearing a helmet.) After that forming a written sentence was very difficult for quite some time. It's still difficult, but at least now generally the sentence structure isn't egregiously flawed. Verbally and written wrong words pop in, I switch words around, and sometimes I make no sense at all. It isn't because I don't have knowledge of grammar and punctuation, but my brain simply can't do it sometimes. Reading this blog you're accepting that there's going to be things that look like typos or make no sense. It's not because I don't proofread, it's because my damaged brain doesn't see what's wrong. I try my best, but things will slip through. I don't need them pointed out, I know they're there, but if I continued to worry about them I wouldn't write at all. I didn't for quite some time. It's painful as a past master of words to use them so badly, but fortunately the words don't seem to mind.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

RIP Condi

1984-2013 Photo from five days ago

A little over a week ago Condi started going downhill. His neck was so stiff he couldn't get his nose down to graze. He was better with bute, but that's not a long term solution, and better didn't mean he was cured. The vet was here on Tuesday to draw a coggins on Banana and he looked half dead. I decided then to put him down next week (as I was going away this weekend and didn't want to mess with the herd,) but as the day progressed he just got worse and worse. I put him down two days later (this morning,) which is the soonest a backhoe could get here.  He spent his last time with lots of bute so he could eat and be happy. The old man even set back and broke a lead rope this morning.

It's always hard to put down a horse, but this was really a very easy decision. It was time. Not being able to graze is no way to live. I shed tears and he's buried next to my beloved Fudge. The Taskmaster is devastated of course, she's known him for 27 years. But, he couldn't have had a more pleasant last year of his life. He had unlimited grass and a pony to boss around.


Enjoy those pastures in heaven sweet old man.

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