Ticky Doc

I stopped by the barn this weekend to check on my favorite redhead, and he's doing surprisingly well, which goes to show what I know about horse health. His bloodwork shows that he hasn't had a miraculous remission, but he's cheerful and active, thoroughly investigating bags even after it has been established that they no longer contain apples, that said apples have joined the orchard invisible, that they are in fact ex-apples. (He also, scuttlebutt says, yoinked a Mott's juicebox from an unsuspecting moppet last week and chewed on the cardboard until all the fruity goodness was gone. Bad Doc! Hee hee hee.) The barn staff are in no hurry to see him go, so they're taking a wait-and-see approach: As long as he's comfortable, they're content to keep him as a companion rather than a working mount.

Doc's also getting some T-Touch biofeedback work, which doesn't seem to hurt and may even help. I used to be adamantly anti-alternative medicine, but the years are softening me to the idea that treatments aimed at improving quality of life are not incompatible with those extending life. If Doc doesn't object to massage or having his Reiki fields realigned, and the person doing the work is happy in it, mazel tov.

The barn went through a brief span a few years ago where there was a leetle too much personal drama—some intramural adolescent-type dating, with Divers Alarums and Scenes to go with it—but it is now on a really solid footing, at least from my perspective, with a focus on managing the animals and the business rather than anyone's hurt feelings. At least, that's how it seems to me as a student; there isn't much turnover among the boarders either, though since it's the only barn within the city limits, their options may be more limited.

Here's to Doc's continued good health! Bumpers, gentlefolk, and no heel taps.