And I'm back in my nice, dry Colorado. Except it isn't dry. It's humid. I must have brought it back with me, but as we had a nice, hard rain yesterday evening I cannot complain. The pasture was starting to get pretty brown.
Banana's leg healed up while I was gone, but it's no longer perfect:
Yes, her toes are incredibly long, she should have had them done over a month ago but the wound wouldn't allow it. Bulge on back of leg above fetlock is callus and scar tissue from the slow healing of the wound. The bulge on front, sort of a 1/3 up the cannon) is from the pressure sore she got from the bandage when her leg swelled underneath when the tendon sheath got infected. I got to ride her down the road yesterday after I got back. The vet was all, "Can you just take her out when she's been laid up for 7 weeks?" Why yes, yes I can. She was very forward, and looky, but perfectly well behaved for her 1.5 mi walk. She felt sound, which was a relief, and this morning her leg almost looked better than it had last night. I think I'm imagining that though.
If all continues well, in a week I can do a little trotting and then onwards.
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 Unpublished, but a writer just the same.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.
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