Twist's day goes to Hell

The boys were glad to see me home early today--in the day time even. We had our office Christmas party today at the boss' house, and it was swell. Even sweller, we got out around 3 and did not have to go to the office any more. I came home to change clothes to go to the farm and took this pic of Twist looking like he has no forelock, and a little bit like a yak, he is so hairy. Look at his cute little ears. He was perfectly happy...trotting around in the front pasture
By 5 pm. he had a tube up his nose. He was one sick bugger. I thought he looked wonky, and I told myself that if he was still wonky when I got changed, I would check on him more closely. I got distracted by Slater looking wonky, and started to run him to the vet for a check. Halfway out of the drive, I remembered to check Twist, so I backed up and got out. Sure enough, he was still standing in the same position---kind of stretched out with his head hanging almost to the ground. He had greenish foam blowing out of his nose and he was hacking. I crawled through the hot wire--the only hot wire you can be pretty sure works around here (it does, in case you were wondering) and fetched him up.

He was pretty distressed, making weird noises with nose foam blowing all over. I got him to the barn and tried to get him to drink, took his Miracle Collar off-for all the good it does--and called the vet. I heard Kevin was out doing farm calls so he would be awhile, but would come out to tube him.

I got Twist settled in a stall--nasty stall that has not been used in a while, but at least has a working door. I went to do the farm stuff until Kevin called. When he arrived, he said that he could see the actual choke spot from a distance, and he was concerned he may have ruptured his esophagus. Well good Lord--I had no idea that was something that actually happened. I have been lucky to have never had a real choke before--just a little half-assed one that was fairly easily resolved.

Twist was a saint. He was really drooping, and I have never seen a horse take a tube that easily. There was a time period where we did not think we could get the blockage to move, but after a while, we made some progress. It is amazing how relieved you can be when you get stomach contents snorted on you, but I sure was.

You cannot see in the pics but Twist had rolled so much, and it is so muddy here, that he was covered in black mud. He had it on his forehead, and from his jaw to his tailbone. He thrashed so hard that he was soaked to the skin on his right side. The grinding of his teeth as he Kevin shot water into his tube made my skin crawl. But when I saw mineral oil drop out of his mouth, I knew we were clear. And I should hope so--we measure how much tube was actually all the way into this stomach---over seven feet.

Kevin warned me that even though the choke was totally cleared that sometimes, eating will cause him to spasm at the spot he choked, which can start the whole cycle all over again. He is pretty confident that he did not aspirate junk into his lungs to cause pneumonia, so I should not expect to find him dead in the morning....and how lucky I was to have seen the whole thing happen so we can pinpoint the time and get him treated within ninety minutes of the episode starting. He is to stay inside so he does not get into the round bale and he should eat only softer hay from a rack so that he has to eat up and not down for a bit. He is to have oil on his Strategy if I feed him grain at all, and he should have three days of Banamine because he is bound to be a little ouchy for a bit.

I collected all of his supplies from the farm and got him bedded down pretty and explained why there would be no dinner tonight. He can eat tomorrow, but I first have to get some nice hay in a small square bale as we do not have those, and the large squares I have are at the farm and not particularly soft. I can have that for him by lunch tomorrow.

When I last checked on him, he was asleep, curled up against the wall in the stall, snoring. I listened for a while, to make sure it was snores and not some more of his weird choking noises. It was very peaceful in there, with Sly standing nearby to keep an eye on him, and Fonzie poking his little head into the stall to see what was happening. I went in to check his gums and he stayed down resting while I did it, but woke up and talked to me a little. I bet he is worn out He wiggled around some as I loved on him, then rolled over and went back to sleep. Maybe all that resting in the deep bedding will clean up him so he does not look like a transient when I see him in the morning.

Cross your fingers that he has passed the hard part and will be back to normal right away.

My sole NCHA Futurity purchase- I was good!

I am still not recovered from my annual December bout of the plague, which is why it has taken me so long to post. I have been home since Sunday evening, but too busy coughing and sleeping to post anything.

I bought only one thing, well one serious thing, that is. I bought a breeding to Playboy Boonsmal (Peptoboonsmal x Playboys Stormy). He has earnings of $157K. This choice is a little self- indulgent, as he is not the hottest thing in the business like Metallic Cat (who I would not kick out of the barn of course, but boy howdy $$$$)--but I have always liked him and wanted to breed to him. His previous owners did not seem to want to do business despite the fact that they owned some daughters of my mares that they bred to him.

However, he has new owners, and is standing at a new place that fought for my business. That gets my attention every time, so I finally pulled the trigger.


Right now, the only horses selling themselves are Dual Reys, High Brow Cats, Peptoboonsmals, and some of their assorted sons. You can hardly even tell them apart any more. I hate it that the industry is tightening up so much, but that is what it is doing. So this dude meets that requirement but still brings in some of the blood that has been good for the business for years in Freckles Playboy.


Isn't he handsome? I don't even know who I will breed him to, but I have a lot of options that will suit him. That will give me something to think about for the next few months.

This whole trip turned into a family affair--Mom, Barry, Mandy, Edward and Gabi were all there. Gabi was all duded up in a pink and purple plaid Cruel Girl shirt--who knew they made them so tiny? She was a trip. They have horses at her school and she loves them, but evidently she also loves a cow. She sat through the invitational yearling sale, with all that racket, and even paid attention some. When she went to the semi-finals, she immediately focused on the horse showing. She clapped when other people clapped and yelled GO randomly. If you asked her who should go, she would think real hard and then say "cows". She already has this half figured out.

I think the only thing she liked more was the trailers, which she calls "the big bus". Every time you turned around, she was asking to go insider the LQs of sale trailers. Barry is the same way. She did really good for all the distractions, and the noise and so many people around all the time. Now whether she will ever be tall enough to sit right so she could actually compete is anyone's guess. I should start looking for cutters who are under 5'0" to see if that is even an option.

Not fit for Man or Beast out there

This is the nastiest kind of day there is--cold and pretty hard rain, and windy--just nasty. A good day to stay in bed--which I did, alternately sweating then shivering. I get sick-ish every year about this time, although this is a little bit early. I think the threat of going to Texas brings it on--last year I got the sickest, and that was the only time I went to Texas two times in ten days. I should make a theory on that one. Mostly, I think I have a sinus infection, but I must be working something else to be sweating and shivering. This will make for a very busy day at work tomorrow trying to wrap up the things I need done before I go to the Futurity. Thank goodness I am feeling better--either that or I have OD'ed on Benadryl




I left the house one time--to buy Benadryl. When I got back, I found this scene--Simba staring at Charlie through the glass. That poor short bus cat has no idea what he was done--he has announced himself to Simba. I do not believe this is a smart move. I will not say she is an unadulterated killer--my old Dalmatian Sahara would kill any cat she laid eyes on, and Simba is not that bad--but I have found evidence of Simba's work before. She will kill a possum too. Gross.


To protect those uninvited kittens in the garage, I have stopped ever using the garage's back door to the back yard, lest Simba think she needs to go in the garage for any reason. They are skittish and quick, but she is like a cheetah on the prowl, so I do not hold much hope for them if she finds out they are. Normally Simba and Slater are not in the front room where they can see out of the porch windows either, but since it is torn up awaiting the new hardwood to go down next week, I guess I was sloppy and let them in there. That is where she discovered Charlie looking in at her. I swear he was taunting her. That cat is a trip. He kind of reminds me of me.
See that nasty look on his face? That is like me. He is not hateful though, he is really sweet. He just looks like an asshole.

Crazy weather makes my babies tired. Well, at their age, they are mostly tired all of the time. There is a lot of resting going on around here. They sleep for some hours on the couch and when they think it is time to go to bed, they try to drag me down the hall to go to bed.
When Simba is asleep, she is so cute. She is mostly cute all the time, but I love the way she puts her hand over her face to block out the world. Her funny freckled ears crack me up too--they make her look like she is asking a question all the time.

The Baby Alligator, Slater, is not so much cute as he is formidable. He has a very serious look about him. I think that is because he is always wondering where he is. He is fortunately no where near as dumb as he looks, or he would never get out of the door. He is actually pretty smart--he is the one that can open the back door, or the pantry, or the fridge--whatever he wants, he can figure out how to get to it. He has never been the boss of this house though--he knows that is Simba and he takes forever to get in bed because she tells him that he cannot get in it. That confuses him, because I tell him he can and he is not sure who is running things around here.

Truth be told, neither am I

Poor Mascots

This begs the question: What did the mascots do to deserve this?

Gym Freaks

Since I spend so much time at the gym lately--for the last year or so--I have noticed that the freaks there fall in to several categories.

Most of them really irritate the piss out of me.

The main irritating category for me is the Beau Hunks. These are the men--mostly past their prime--who come to the gym all the time, and then spend most of it primping in the mirror. They quite often do not have any hair anywhere on their bodies--it is kind of creepy. They are shiny sometimes. They do a set on a machine. Then lay there a while, then get up and preen in front of the mirror like a peacock. Then they get back on the machine and rest a while before doing another set. They mostly piss me off because inevitably, they get on a machine that I am using with the Beast as part of our session. Since they do not use it and move on to another, they make us change our workout. Pisses me off. They are clearly more interested in looking at themselves than working out, yet they screw up my system.

Another category are the loud ones. These are related to the Beau Hunks, but instead of looking at themselves all the time, they are grunters and face makers. They try to lift too much weight, and end up bellowing and grunting and making horrid faces that make them look like they are in labor. Evidently they think this is required. After the grunting, they will pace around their machine, throwing it looks like "Who's your daddy now?" You cannot help but watch them, because you know one of these days they will separate something or do serious damage from all that carrying on and I do not want to miss that.

Sometimes these fools will wear a weight belt. The Beast and I call them "Belt Wearers". There is one at our gym who wears a belt with some knit shorts, and his tall socks pulled up, with a tank top. All he is missing is a damn headband. He looks like a roller skater and he has to be more than fifty. It is not a good look for him. He is also a route-interrupter like the BeauHunks. One day I staed on the leg press machine until I had lifted 100 pounds more than normal because he was circling it like a vulture and I would be damned if I would give my machine up to a Belt Wearer.

The next group are the Dirty Flirts. These are grunters and beau hunks that think any poor girl in the joint is fair game. For some reason, we have a good number of really hot chicks at our gym--serious athletes who treat their workouts like their job. Most of them have a passel of fools who follow them around like dogs with their tongues hanging out. It is kind of funny, but when they get in a big group, they crowd up the place. They talk to the girls like they are best friends, and offer to spot them. Someday they will realize how stupid they look- but only if someone writes it on the mirrors they are usually starting at.

The next batch is the Has-Beens. I feel bad talking about this bunch, because I am one and I know how it feels. But mother of God, Fat Boy, if you insist of sweating like that in public, the least you can do it wear a shirt that does not have a rip in it so your belly hair sticks out of it. Please Jesus, get a shirt. One with sleeves preferrably. Tank tops for men are rarely a good idea, and just because you wear a sleeveless "muscle shirt", your rolls dont transform into muscle any more than mine do. This is the dude who needs to look in the damn mirror.

The last group are the Over Dressers. These are usually fairly young guys--that is about right--the only ones that I would not mind showing up scantily clad are wearing three layers and a skull cap and a hoodie. What is that about? It is hot up in there, why do they wear so many clothes? It is like a pack of young Unabombers--and they travel in packs too. Surely they know that sweating it off does not really help--the first beer puts it back on, so why do they wear so many clothes? I will never understand this one.

Do all gyms have these groups? Or am I just the lucky one?

FInally grown up and random thoughts

The other day, when I had horses all over hell and gone, I ended up with Hotrod and Target together in one place. Hotrod is the mother of Target, who was part of Sly's first real foal crop--the batch we kept all of to see how they would turn out. For the first time, I not only see how much he has grown up, but how much he looks like her.




Aint that something? So much alike.

In addition to this random thing I was thinking, I have thought up some other irritating things today.

First, why in the hell do I watch Million Dollar Listing? I cannot stand two of the three real estate agents. I would like to hit Josh square in his face and then mess up Chad's hair. They both piss me off. Madison is the only one I like and he cannot decide who he wants to sleep with.

Second--Madison quit again today--until February, or so her note says. I can hardly begrudge her that--she wants to do Scholar Bowl. She always gets sick of it when it gets cold--hell who doesnt? I sure do. Tonight I timed myself--7:16 til 7:52--everyone fed, every water trough filled, ten stalled horses had their stalls cleaned. I even moved a round bale with the tractor, and figured out a solution to a jacked up corral panel. Not so bad. I am a multitasking son of a gun. I can swing 45 minutes a day out of my life to take care of my own damn animals. I will miss Mad though and I always worry when she does this--was she afraid to tell me? Is that why she did not come over all weekend, even to see Barry? I hope not.

Third--this puts a damper on my weekend plans. I was either going to go to Chicago to see Barry or to OKC to the NRHA finals, to meet a friend. To do this, I was going to have to bail on dinner with Jodi and Jackie in the metro east--which is bad bad bad even though they knew that could happen when we made the plans. I am thinking Mad quitting on me could be a sign that I have no business pissing off money going all over when I am spending four days at the cutting futuiry in Fort Worth next weekend. Also, surely I will need a nap. Forth Worth is always a notoriously expensive weekend. It is very stressful to see these potentially imaginary signs every where I go...makes me wonder if they are really signs or I am nuts. No wonder I have migraines.

Fourth--I totally forgot to buy dog food again. I had to feed them hot dogs. Mark that as reason sixteen why I cannot have real kids--I would forget to get their food. I have been suitably punished though as I spent a good part of the evening thinking about twice baked potatoes and cannot find the stinking potatoes!

Fifth--I have not been to the gym in a week until tonight. I so needed it--I have felt like a slug--not sleeping well, not feeling right at all. When I am blah like that, I tend to eat eat eat in an effort to make myself sick, I think--so I will feel SOMETHING. I totally need a shrink. Anyway, I took a book and enjoyed reading it and not falling off the bike for almost an hour--and then I guess I left it there. Of course I did--I was really enjoying the book and would have liked to have finished it tonight. Crap.

Sixth--I have to get up at the crack of dawn to go to the Amish joint to see if they are coming to do fence. I so hope so, I need to get these horses out of the pens and back into the pastures. While there, I learned that they have had to eat that roided up rooster I liked so much. Evidently he was raising all kinds of hell when the girls went in to get eggs, so off with his head! I am oddly saddened by this.

Seventh--peeg has a new friend. And I even like himn--Charlie the cat. I hate an adult cat and I love this dude. It is like I am operating with a head injury all these weird things I am doing.

Eighth--and this is a big one even though the whole rest of my world already knows it--I have had to go to the three-hook bra. You know, .like big knockered women and grandmas wear. I am neither of these things, yet there they are--three hooks in a row. This is worse than when I realized that cute underwear needed to be a thing of the past for me.

That is enough rambling about not much for one nite--if I keep this up, I will be up too late and not get to early morning festivities I am planning.

Photo shoot outtakes--how fast it can go wrong

Pretty Bubbles had her photo shoot today for her registration photos. These photo sessions are always hysterical. Babies can go from zero to sixty in a split second
See? A little mixed up.
Full on mad.
Woops. Over correction.
What happened? Now she looks all nice, like she did not just throw a tantrum. Babies are so squirelly.

This is the last one of the year. I think I am going to name her Demon Cat. Her Dad is Highlight Cat ( like you cant see the Cat in her from a million miles away, she has all the Cat factors) and her dam is Diablos Youn Gun by Yong Gun. Now I am off to see if that is available