She's Got a Fever, and the Only Cure Is More Cowbell....

Yesterday I walked down to the barn to ride...  Not unusual for me, as I ride most days.  It was colder than it should be in May, though, so the part of me wanting to ride battled the part of me wanting to crawl under a blanket or six.  The sun did peek its head out from behind the clouds, thankfully, and my ride turned out warmer than expected.

The plan for the day was that I would ride and get cleaned up for a Mother's Day dinner with a couple of my siblings and the Mama.  As I walked through the pasture toward the barn, I noticed my two mares, Trinity and Fansi, standing side-by-side with their rears pointed toward the fence row.  Trinity, the alpha of our herd, stood with her head drooped low, her nose a handful of inches from the ground.  When she noticed me walking past them, she raised her head to peer over Fansi's neck.  Sensing no threat, she let her head hang once again.  It struck me as a little odd, but I brushed the thought aside and caught Ellie, the new pony.

After riding Ellie, I had half an hour left before I needed to head up to the house to hose myself off.  I glanced over at Trinity, now snoozing flat on her side out in the back of the pasture, and grabbed a bareback pad from the tack room.  By the time I walked back out of the barn and headed toward her, clouds had rolled back in place, veiling the light.  Trinity continued stretching out in the grass.  I knew she was alive because her ear flicked and rotated in the breeze, but it comforted me very little.  Something was wrong.

She was on her feet before I could reach her.  I fed her a treat, which she weakly mashed in her teeth and then let fall to the grass in crumbles.  I hadn't brought a halter or lead rope to the pasture with me, so I walked back toward the barn to get them.  Before I was 10 yards away, she lowered herself to her knees and laid back down.  Something was very wrong.

Like I said earlier, my mare is the alpha of the herd, and she takes her job very seriously.  It is her responsibility to be on alert for threats to the safety of herself and the horses under her.  To lay down with me so near made her vulnerable--literally a sitting target.  My horse trusts me enough to realize I won't pounce on her and devour her innards, but in 10 years together, she has never allowed me to walk up to her while laying down.  Not only did she allow me to walk back up to her with a halter and lead, but she let me put on her halter, and then I had to pull her onto her feet.  Something was very, very wrong.

Once I coaxed her to standing, we went into the fenced area we use for a riding area and I walked her around.  It was something I could never do with Moe when he fell ill--he was too far gone by the time I found him to keep him on his feet and walking.  Determined not to let her slip down the same path,  I walked for a few minutes, then I checked her gums, listened for the gurgling of her gut, and, finally, took her temperature.  My thermometer read around 103.5.  A horse's normal temp should be close to ours, preferably under 99 degrees Fahrenheit.  103-bleeping-five.  Something was really wrong.

I called the vet, and, because it was the weekend, promptly received the answering service.  The vet on call was the vet who came out first when Moe colicked--not our usual, beloved vet--and we unanimously decided we didn't care for him one bit.  I made a few calls and finally secured another vet willing to come out to us despite not knowing a thing about us or our horses.  Then we walked.  And walked.  And walked some more.  Trinity didn't want to, and it was hard to blame her.  It was cold and windy, and the rain blew in our eyes as we trudged along.  She is a very energetic horse, usually ready to walk faster than my legs can keep up with.  Burning with fever, she plodded behind on a loose lead. If I had been strong enough, she would have rather I or Mr. Ohboy carried her instead.

The vet made good time, and soon he was running the gamut of tests--rectal exam, blood drawing, antibiotic injections, injection of fever-reducer, and nasogastric tubing with oil and electrolytes to help lubricate and rehydrate her.  His thermometer read 104.2.  I've never heard of a fever that high in a horse, no wonder she was acting all zombified and stuff.  Without running the bloodwork, something that can't be done until Monday if we choose to do so at all, we don't know what's wrong with her or if what we're doing will help.  The suspicion is that she caught a bug from one of the two new horses, though it also sounds a little bit like Potomac Horse Fever to me (she has been vaccinated, but research says it's not terribly effective against the many strains in existence).

The horses spent the night inside--unusual for us, but necessary because of Trinity's illness and the freezing cold and dampness.  Mr. Ohboy and I checked her temp again before midnight and she was at 101.5, which is still a fever, but not 104.2!

This morning she hadn't eaten much of her soaked hay and drank very little from her bucket, but there were a couple indications that her digestive system is functioning--at least a little bit.  Her fever was still present at 9 a.m., running right around 102 degrees Fahrenheit, so we gave her another shot of Banamine.  As I type this, she is grazing by herself in the riding arena.  

In a couple of days we will have our vet out again to follow-up and administer more antibiotics.  Our prayer is that she responds to treatment and recovers without incident.  My heart can't bear the thought of losing another horse so soon.  As we watch and wait, I am keeping a close eye on Fansi and taking her temp to make sure she is not the next in line for whatever this is.

Keep Trinity and my family in your thoughts and prayers.  It's true that she is just a horse, just an animal, and maybe not that important in the scheme of things...  But, to me, she is my sister, my daughter, my friend...  Family.