Rio means river. "The river's always changing..."

Last Friday I finally got Rio to the vet.  He has been chronically lame since the beginning of March.

 He gets really attached to any buddies that come to visit, and we had my dad’s horse, Shrek, here for a few weeks. After my dad came to get Shrek and take him home, Rio essentially had a panic attack for 3 days.  He ran and ran around his little corral, through the snow, ice and mud.  After the third day, he was limping.  His antics slowed after that to a slow, sad pacing back and forth. In the evening when I went out to feed him, he simply stood next to his feeder, his head hanging, the picture of grief.  He had lost about 40 pounds in 3 days and looked pretty ragged. There was a sound just outside the barn, of some rocks clicking together.  Rio’s head snapped up, his ears straining for any further sound, his head turned to the outside of the barn where the sound had originated.  Then a chicken walked around the corner. He let out the biggest sigh of disappointment, and his head dropped again. He’d been hoping it was Shrek returning.  I had never seen him so dejected.   This was not the first time he’d been through this, last Fall When Wayfarer left, Rio grieved along with me.  I felt badly for him, but also figured he would come around again like he always did.

 Eventually he began putting some weight back on and his limp had seemed to have cleared up.  A few weeks later, I walked him over to the neighbor’s round pen for some play time.  I turned him loose in the pen, like I always do, and he took off like a golden streak of lightning.  I have never seen him run and buck and play as hard as he did that day.  He’s such a serious horse-- that to see him goofing off like he was had me laughing out loud.  I then climbed on bareback and rode him a bit.  Any time I asked for a lope, he would lay his ears back at me.  This was disconcerting, because he only did that to try to tell me to “back off”, and don’t pressure him.  I have learned to trust him, so I didn’t keep asking for something that made him so uncomfortable.  We headed home and I noticed he felt “off”.  I got off to watch him walk and discovered that his limp was back.  I gave him some bute (horse ibuprofen) and let him rest for a couple weeks.  All looked good, so I turned him loose in the pasture, where he ran and bucked and played.  When I went to pull him out, he was limping, again.  This time I did some research.  He had some swelling in his fetlock.  I looked up all sorts of things, and it came to the conclusion that he had all the symptoms of a strained/ruptured suspensory ligament in his hind leg.  The prognosis was guarded at best for such injuries.  I began doing all the treatments suggested, icing it, and keeping him as immobile as possible.  He seemed to get a little better, but the swelling would come and go.  He eventually plateaued, always favoring his right hind leg.  Honestly, I waited to take him to the vet because 1. I didn’t have a horse trailer, and 2. Because I didn’t want to hear that my beloved horse would never fully recover.  Four days ago I finally got up the nerve to arrange a trailer ride (from my parents) and take Rio to the vet.  The vet looked at the swelling around his fetlock, listened to my story, and said that the swelling was actually something called “wind puffs”, a gathering of fluid around the joint that would come and go, but was not painful.  She watched Rio move, walk, “trot” and turn and decided to do some x-rays.  She thought his problem was not in the fetlock, but much higher, in his stifle (the equivalent of his hind “knee”).  Lots of x-rays later ( I was so proud of Rio’s behavior, he was so good for the x-rays) showed a very slight abnormality in his stifle, often corresponding with an injured ligament.  He had essentially “blown out” his knee during his 3 day panic spree.  The vet got all kind and tactful as she gently explained that though possible, it was highly unlikely that he would fully heal.  Ligaments are extremely hard to repair (don’t I know it.  I have my own scarred stuff, not to mention Brandon’s ordeal of having to replace his ankle ligaments with that of a cadaver’s). She explained that there is no surgery for this kind of injury in horses.  At best, I could give him bute and ride him only on gentle, flat trails.  She told me what I had already known, deep down. ( I just didn’t know I was treating the wrong joint!)  Though I have hope that he heals more, and I explore ways of helping him, I also have come to a place of acceptance, though I still grieve.  I have felt prompted to search for a Therapeutic Equestrian Program (especially after how wonderful he was with all the kids at the Reunion) that would allow him to have a light work load while helping troubled or handicapped children, youth, and adults.  Maybe, in the Grand Scheme, there is another broken heart, another little girl or troubled soul who needs Rio’s quiet, gentle ways. So, while I search for the right home that could eventually be his calling in life, I will enjoy his company, his loud whinnies of greeting when I whistle to him, and give my kids some more riding lessons.  I am in no hurry to part with him.  When the right home becomes available, I’ll be led to it.  Until then, he continues to bring a smile to my face.

Horse anatomy...

 Rio and me, in the Uintas.  He's soaking my legs.  Love it!

My dear parents were with me at the vet’s.  After hearing the prognosis, I wasn’t the only one in tears.  My mom and dad offered to buy me another horse.  It was worth it to them to have a happy daughter, and continue to be able to ride with me. I have such incredible parents.  Ones who understand the “syndrome” their daughter was born with, that of Horse Craziness.  So, I am open to the “universe” (loving Heavenly Parents)  bringing another furry-four-legged friend into my life at the right time.  Que sera sera.