Two days later, my leg began weeping puss. It was still infected. Mum was worried, she called the vets once again who advised that it was likely there was something inside my leg causing the infection. I was to go in to the vets for a more thorough examination. I was led onto the trailer and I didn't make a fuss, I knew she was worried already. It was quite a short journey there and when we arrived I could hear other horses. I began to call out to them wondering where I was and what was happening. The last time I had been in one of these vehicles I was brought to the place called Home.
When the ramp came down, Mum was already by my head in the trailer, ready to lead me off. I was so anxious that I jumped from the trailer over the ramp and clattered all four hooves on the floor. I was spinning around trying to take in my surroundings. The vets came out and Mum took me with them to a stable to await further examination. She wanted to wait with me but the vet said it was likely I would be in overnight and it could be hours before I was even seen.
They kept calling me "Lady" which I found really strange; my name is Morgs... strange people.
After an x-ray and an ultrasound, it was decided that I needed to have minor surgery to remove what the vets suspected to be tiny fragments of chipped bone. I behaved well given the circumstances, although I think I heard the vets chuckling over that with Mum when she came to collect me...
When I was taken home I was to stay on box rest again for 8 weeks. The recovery process was slow and frustrating... I wanted to go out and play with my friends in the paddock! It was summer and I was stuck inside, bored. I was feeling really sorry for myself but Mum made sure I got plenty of fuss and attention, I liked that.
One day, Mum decided to break up the mundane routine and to give me a bath. When I had come back from the vets, the bedding they used had left me with a very dusty coating on my fur and it wasn't how a mare of my kind ought to be seen! So she began hosing me down which I didn't mind too much. Then she applied the shampoo and was giving me a good scrub down... that's when I heard it. My friends were calling to me from the paddock, I had to just go and say hello! Just quickly...
So I started pacing from side to side, Mum thought I was just opposed to the scrubbing brush; little did she know I was plotting my great escape! Then, I started to pull back on the rope; Mum tried to calm me, by this point knowing EXACTLY what was about to happen! I ended up pulling back so hard that the buckle of my lead rope just snapped straight off, flung back and hit Mum's hand; I was away! Cantering across the courtyard towards the paddocks - I was only going to say hello. Anyway, in my panic, I went the wrong way didn't I?! Ran to the right into a dead end with Mum swift on my tail... she did not look impressed. I stood there looking about for a way around her, covered in soapy suds, dripping wet, still determined to make my escape. It was too late, she had my headcollar and was in a royal strop, muttering at me the whole way back to the hose. That's kind of how me and Mum are, stubbornly determined individuals. It's just that sometimes we have different end games... *snickering*
Anyway... I was slowly brought back into work, lunged for 5 minutes at first and then slowly built up. I was on my best behaviour, Mum was patient and kind and I was trying my hardest to show her how keen I was, especially after my soapy shenanigans!! We were back on track, pardon the pun...
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Feeling sorry for myself (but still gorgeous)
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The wounds...
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Box rest life with the Michelin Man leg...
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Mum's knuckle after my failed attempt at The Great Escape
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Being brought back into work, don't I look pretty?!
