During the flight to Heathrow I found myself seated between a lovely Nepalese woman who could say only “Mango juice, please,” and a radical Augustinian priest who spoke in favor of all those contentious issues the Vatican opposes—liberation theology, birth control, married priests, and women priests. The six and a half hours were punctuated by catnaps, “Catholic” conversation, and a sweet shoulder rub by the Nepalese lady when she saw me wincing in discomfort while adjusting my sling.
Now in the taxi and nearing Marble Arch, I was stunned to see, almost immediately, a huge bronze statue of the head of horse. Here it is!
A few details of this incredible work by Nic Fiddian-Green: It weighs 6 tons, is 33 feet tall, but only a fragile half inch thick. The horse is said to be drinking, but it didn’t look like that to me. Perhaps it’s because I’m accustomed to seeing the little but constant movements in the muzzle and the flaring of the nostrils when a real horse drinks. But the sculpture is truly magnificent. I also found it somewhat haunting.
I met my husband at our hotel near Buckingham Palace—he had just arrived from Shanghai—then next day we traveled to Cardiff, capital of Wales, where my husband was giving a paper on environmental issues in Africa. Cardiff was stunning—beautiful parks, Wordsworth’s “host of golden daffodils.” The city is wonderfully walk-able and the Welsh I found more outgoing than their English counterparts. We had a formal dinner in the manor hall of Cardiff Castle where I was seated next to D Hugh Thomas, Chair of the Council of the University of Wales. It turned out that he had ridden horses all his life and had served as President of the Welsh Pony Society! I told him all about “Quilly,” our section B Welsh. He then very kindly invited Jim and me to join him and his wife for a few days in July at the Royal Welsh Agricultural Fair. We’re going to try hard to make that happen.
Those warm daffodil-laden Welsh days faded quickly when we landed with a thud at Logan. It was snowing! Argggh! And when we got home my daughter reported that Dolly had a cough but was eating well and her nostrils were clear.
I walked out and watched her eating her hay—no sign of a cough. At least, not until the next day when I asked her to step out of her stall into the round-pen so I could clean it. A trot around the pen resulted in a series of coughs. Then I noticed a huge swelling the size and shape of half a baseball on the left side of her throat latch area.
Dr. Craig Smith called within an hour. I told him Dolly was eating, drinking and alert.
Craig arrived mid-morning the next day. I got a lead around her so he could administer tranquilizer. After drawing blood for a CBC and giving Dolly shots of Banamine, an anti-inflammatory and Naxcel, an antibiotic, Craig kindly summarized his examination for my camera:
I walked out and watched her eating her hay—no sign of a cough. At least, not until the next day when I asked her to step out of her stall into the round-pen so I could clean it. A trot around the pen resulted in a series of coughs. Then I noticed a huge swelling the size and shape of half a baseball on the left side of her throat latch area.
Dr. Craig Smith called within an hour. I told him Dolly was eating, drinking and alert.
“Temperature?”
“Can’t take it: I got her six weeks ago—never been handled.”
“What’s her breathing sound like?”
I was standing next to Dolly at the time and tried to hold my cell to her nostrils but she would have none of it, turning away each time I brought it near. So I did a rasping imitation.
Craig arrived mid-morning the next day. I got a lead around her so he could administer tranquilizer. After drawing blood for a CBC and giving Dolly shots of Banamine, an anti-inflammatory and Naxcel, an antibiotic, Craig kindly summarized his examination for my camera:
The CBC results showed an elevation of white blood cells confirming that Dolly had an infection. The fact that she was alert, and enjoying her hay seemed to indicate the infection was not yet systemic, but rather confined to that nasty rock-hard ball along her throat latch. Dr. Smith left me with a syringe of Naxcel, Tucoprim, an oral antibiotic in case she wouldn’t allow me to give her a shot, and oral Banamine paste. I also began to hold hot compresses against the swelling four times a day which she loved. It seemed to give her great relief. She lowered head, half-closed her eyes and allowed me stroke her with one hand while the other held the compress against her. We are hoping it will open up and drain. Then I can take a swab of the excretia so it can be cultured. Then we'll know exactly what she's contracted.
Today I stopped by Nashoba Valley Vet to pick up more syringes of antibiotic. The day before I’d managed to give her the shot while Anne Dykiel distracted her by holding the compress against her. It had to be done but I hated doing it. It felt like such a betrayal of her new and fragile trust in me. I kept the compress against her a long-time afterward hoping she would remember the soft comfort-giving heat rather than the sharp prick of a needle. It was also an apology.
This poor little horse! Now she must go through yet another consequence of her starvation and neglect—an invading bacteria that her weakened immune system couldn't defend against. So she is back in her quarantine. She’d only been out of it for three days. She must be very tired of her stall and round pen. I certainly am, but at least I know why she is there.
I’ll close with a you tube video of Sarah MacLachlan singing “Angel:” And I will give you all an update on Dolly in the next day or two. 'Til then--Ainslie
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