The heartache of working with animals

If anyone has ever looked into the eyes of a dying animal and not felt anything, they truly are a monster. I get profoundly affected by animals in distress, because we can't fully communicate with them and can only try to help when most often than not we are completely out of control of the situation.

This is how I felt today. One of the stable's best horses, Ritchie, had been sick with suspected colic the day before and was thought to be on the mend. In the majority of colic cases here, we inject the horse with something to make their body jerk back into normal rhythm, but it seems there was a little more to it this time. Colic, for those who don't know, is a potentially fatal condition that can occur from a multitude of factors but basically causes, if untreated, the twisting of the gut and/or a blockage of the inner organs.

I was told he was eating grass and drinking water like all the other horses yesterday, and looked to be adjusting well after his spell. In fact, there were 3 horses in total who had the condition that day and the other 2 responded equally as positively. They were totally fine today and unless I was told, would never have guessed they were sick the day before.

Ritchie, on the other hand, was deteriorating at a rapid pace. He kept wanting to lie down - a dangerous sign of colic and something you should always avoid to make the situation worse - then he started trembling, breaking out in a cold sweat... then his eyes started to glaze over, his gums losing colour as the blood went to other parts of the body in a rescue mission.

My boss told me to take him to the water, as that usually made him wanna poop, but even that wasn't enuf to get it out of him. And I know he was trying, but it was just stuck inside him. He needed to get it out and I tried, I tried so hard. I was swimming next to him as he walked/swam through the water, me pushing myself to push him. But it didn't work.

He was such a good boy. Tried so hard to make himself more comfortable. The boss and his wife both put their hands inside him to try and extract the bad stuf themselves, to no avail. He was getting worse and I couldn't do anything. The light in his eyes was dimming and I could see it. The boss wife started crying and it was all I could do not to show her my eyes were welling up too.

We moved him to the arena and let him roll around, trying to ease the suffering. The pain must have been unbearable for him. The vet eventually arrived, complaining that he had lots to do and was sick himself (just fucking fix the horse, you French cunt), and put the horse on a drip to hydrate him.

About this time, I left the others to it, thinking I was just another person in the way. I had a private ride to take out as well, having had my last ride given away when I was in the midst of emergency aid. Didn't care much about that. When I left, Ritchie was walking around by himself and seemed to be getting a little better. But his stomach was still stretched to capacity through bloating, and he was all dirty from rolling around the ground all day. I didn't know what to think.

I diverted my thoughts for 1.5 hours and managed to enjoy my ride with the American couple, the woman of which was an experienced eventer with a partner not so experienced but we let him tag along at the back anyway. They expressed their enjoyment thoroughly at the end, putting a tip in my hand that I only looked at a couple of hours later to discover was $60. Not bad for one ride!

Thankfully, it was only after I said thanks and goodbye that I learnt Ritchie had been put down. In the space of my 1.5 hour ride, a lot can happen - it seems. His condition got so bad it became obvious that keeping him alive was just cruel, and the vet had returned to end it all. I'm glad I wasn't there for that bit. But I knew something had happened as soon as I saw my rasta guide friend's eyes. He was the last one to ride the horse the day before so of course blamed himself. Poor sod.

The only positive to come out of the day - my private ride tipped me $60 which I didn't realise until after they left, and totally didn't expect. So that was brilliant, since it was the only ride I did and after every conversation I have with my boy, it's clear we're gonna need every cent we get to make a good start in Melbourne.

Sweaty sweaty sweatybox

I'm pretty sure I sweated more than my entire body weight today. As usual for a Saturday, we were pretty busy for the first half of the day but once lunch hit, the rides died down. Cruises only land here for the day so the guests have a limited window of opportunity for activities like horseriding. But what made it hard was the sheer humidity. No matter what I was doing - walking, brushing horses, sitting down - I sweated. My skin was constantly wet. And I can't even count how many times I wiped my face on my t-shirt sleeve. Hideous.

Had a couple of rides, got some half-decent tips (I'm learning cruise ship people are either tight or think they've spent more than enuf on the cruise and all its related activities - forgetting completely that we have nothing to do with the cruise)... and sweated. Even my boss said this kind of weather was unusually for this time of year.

I was almost drained of energy by the day's end, but it was not over yet. I found a horse acted strange and suspected it of colic, so called the boss up to have a look. He gave her some shots and we kept her on all 4 feet, and the we decided to give tetanus shots to every horse, which at a glance is over 40. So we're going out, catching each one by one, injecting the shot, marking off the list... and sweating. I swear no one sweated quite like me. I felt like a witch melting into my skin.

My day actually ended with a postponed lesson with my female boss, A, the French lady (rumoured to be a lesbian, like it makes any difference to my life) and taught by my male boss, R. I rode Seductor again, who I learnt tonight was only about 3, and things did not go well.

I didn't fall off or anything but compared to last week's lesson - the best ever for Seductor according to R - he was a mess. Now I don't like to blame him for everything, obviously my riding wasn't that great either, but he was just not all there tonight. My hands and joints burnt a little after it was all over, and I apologised for riding badly but was warded off - "It wasn't you, he was all over the place tonight, don't worry shit happens." Well, I still felt annoyed like I hadn't done my best. I dunno, I guess I'm just that kind of person!

Worst of all, this was the lesson J decided to watch so I know I'm not gonna hear the end of it. Great that I'd organised to go out with him for his brother's belated birthday that same night... Not impressed. With any of it. Sweaty, tired and frustrated. He better not start.

Had a shower and decided that, it being the first Saturday night I actually planned on having a big night out - well, I told them I am going home at 12 because otherwise I turn into a pumpkin and can't work tomorrow - I shaved. What a mission. Love living with no one to impress. Except when the hard yakka comes in to look like a lady. Urgh.

Writing this, I'm waiting for my dinner to cool and already the sirens are starting for a Saturday evening. These people really have no sense of responsibility for their lives... I dunno, I could never live here I don't think. It's just like, these little lottery booths dotted about the place, in the most obscure of back streets even... I asked A about them, and she quite rightly observed (as a Dutch woman) that people just want to easy way around here. That sit and hope that they'll hit big one day, instead of actually working towards it and making their own success.

Not that I have that much responsibility for my life. I suppose I'm one of the biggest culprits. What the hell am I doing? Running all over the globe, taking random opportunity, one after the other? Yeah, really responsible behaviour. I can just hear my dad's voice in my ear - "What about your longterm career, furthering your education? I didn't shell out that many thousands for you to just galavant around the world at your fancy, asking me for handouts when your money runs dry."

Now that last part was poetic licence, but it something he fully believes and I flat-out refute. Next Christmas and birthday, I'm asking for nothing. Just his acceptance. If he can't give me that... well, merry Christmas to me.