Fiddle continues to do well on day three post-surgery.
Her appetite is good, she seems bright and cheerful--well, as cheerful as Dragons get. She isn't exactly "Oh what a beautiful mornin'" but at least she isn't "Marvin the Paranoid Android" either. Her temperature remains normal. The problem isn't her. It's me.
Last night was a fretful one for me. I couldn't help thinking that Fiddle's gut sounds were pretty quiet...and there just wasn't much manure happening.
This is where I run into difficulty on this blog sometimes: I was raised by nice people. Polite people. City people.
People who don't talk much about poop.
|This is not a photograph of poop.|
I'm sure that the people with whom I spent my formative years spent more time than they ever wanted dealing with poop (actual and metaphoric poop, to be specific). But, in my experience, these nice polite city people don't talk much about poop.
And, as far as I know, they almost never write about poop.
Me, of course, I'm an endurance rider/writer. I think about all the functions of my horse. Including poop.
Unlike Jane, I've (thus far) managed to avoid writing blog posts about poop.
|Apple blossoms. Not poop.|
That's about to change, readers.
When a horse is recovering from surgery--even a minimally-invasive surgery like ovariectomy--poop is really important. What's really important is that poop happens, and keeps happening, preferably on a regular basis. Regular poop means functioning guts. That's pretty vital for a horse.
The fretful bit (for me) is that for about 36 hours prior to the surgery, Fiddle didn't get to eat anything. And therefore, further down the line, there's inevitably going to be time when she doesn't have much processed-food to excrete.
In other words: not much poop.
|Dandelion. Even if you don't like dandelions, there's no escaping|
the observation that they are prettier than poop.
As a horse-owner, especially an endurance rider, an absence of poop is generally bad news...a symptom of colic at best.
So it was that several times during the night, I checked on my mare: listened to the gut sounds (grumbling, but quiet), took a temperature (99.9 F, which is normal), and assessed her attitude (incredulous that I'm hanging around the barn at 3am).
Finally, just as I was walking away from her stall (at 3:15am), I heard a familiar sound, and caught a whiff of a familiar odor.
I did NOT take a picture at that hour of the morning.
|This is poop, beside my size-7 boot for size comparison|
|This picture is posted so that you can look at something other than poop.|