Staples out, and a reflection on last May

Today Mag got his staples out, after 10 days. But still no lab results. I'm annoyed about that because every day I wonder if Mag's career or life will be cut short by cancer or he'll simply have skin issues.

I was happy to see the staple removal did not seem to hurt him at all, and relieved that this entire time there were no complications, no more swelling than the original lumps themselves. I had put antibiotic salve on it 7 days in a row, and then just fly spray. He rolls in the mud every day and I needn't have worried. As unfortunate as it was that this is his saddle area, it's also an area that is impossible for him to rub on things, or bite or kick at, if it had itched.

It's too hot and humid to do anything, I'm wiping sweat off my forehead as I type this. Both Mag and I have to slather the sunscreen on our pink skin every day. It's that sticky sunscreen season that I hate. Ticks on the cat every morning, but no horseflies yet. Their arrival is imminent.

For the first time ever we have a pair of swallows swooping crazily around, and they freaked me out by flying into my face as I entered the barn. I had a long talk with them, that they're welcome to all our insects, but please stay out of the barn. They seem to fly as erratically and fast as horseflies so my hopes are high that they help us out there. (Do swallows even eat horseflies?)

The car ice scraper is still sitting there because we just used it last week. May is the prettiest month of the year; looking at my yard I'm amazed at all the flowers (the ones that survived the late frosts). Prettiest month, and most fickle.

Looking back to last May in my blog, I see that I had hired two trainers who let me down - Lukas and Katharina. Both of them said they didn't have time for me anymore. I believe, rather, that both of them were uneasy around Arabians and didn't want to get hurt, as Mag reacted very badly to both of them. I was so, so depressed last year at this time, feeling abandoned with a horse I felt I could not train myself.

Remember, I was wearing a helmet to clean his rear hooves, because he'd kicked me across the paddock? I'm still leery, because I never figured out why he sometimes kicks, but I clean his hooves every day, and feel OK even doing a little trimming back there.

Here is a photo from last May, when this horse trainer rode Mag the first--and last--time. You can see what Mag thinks of him, he's swishing his tail and saying "No, I will not."


In retrospect this series of two bad trainers got me motivated (and pleading with my husband) to get my horse to a stable with an arena where I could work him in a safe, enclosed area every day. So perhaps they were the catalyst to push us forward.

And now I feel calm. We aren't blazing the trails solo yet, but we know each other and I have this feeling we have all the time in the world.

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