Drunken sailor and the pregnant lady

  1. It’s Taco Tuesday!
  2. Taco Tuesday special report
  3. Back in the day, I was a racehorse.
  4. To graze, or not to graze: that is the question
  5. It’s a miracle, I tell you, a miracle!
  6. The fine art of accepting treats from your human
  7. They called me the Cat Burglar
  8. Overall, the food here is very good.
  9. Inquiring minds want to know
  10. Housekeeping
  11. The new guy moves in
  12. Happy Vaccination Day
  13. Malfunctioning fly sheet edition
  14. The great escape
  15. Dog Days of Summer
  16. Down and Dirty
  17. The Quiet One
  18. Forest Monsters
  19. When the Farrier Comes
  20. Mealtime manner
  21. Happy Hour
  22. A day in the life.
  23. The Walking Wounded
  24. Friends
  25. Ginger the racing pony
  26. Those Dangerous Cows and the Gate
  27. Drunken sailor and the pregnant lady
  28. How to eat hay 101
  29. Fly-free at last
  30. Body Work Edition
  31. Rainy days and dry stalls
  32. The dream galloping edition!
  33. Where did Mocha go?
  34. Water
  35. Flying squirrels and giant lizards
  36. Leo came to town
  37. It’s Taco Tuesday again!
  38. Facemask tug-of-war
  39. Hey, it is Taco here with an update!
  40. Taco Tuesday – Foot abscess edition
  41. What next?

And just like that, fall is over in Kentucky. It isn’t freezing cold yet, which is good because I still have some winter coat to grow, but it’s overcast and gray and damp and chilly. The sun goes down earlier and earlier. Oreo and I get to spend the day in the dry lot munching on hay and hanging out over the fence with Ginger. I am not allowed out in the field anymore because of the slippery mud. I tend to get too rambunctious and end up falling down. The mind is willing, but this old body just can’t keep up.

I really buggered myself up the other day. I am too embarrassed to tell anyone exactly what went down (no pun intended), but suffice to say it wasn’t good. My legs went in directions they shouldn’t go. When I came in from the field, I was walking like a cross between a drunken sailor and a pregnant lady in her ninth month. My mom was a bit horrified.


The vet came. She had a worried look on her face. She ran her hands down my legs and over my back. She watched me attempt to walk. She ruled out this thing and that thing and the other thing. Then she stood back and looked at me and just shook her head, “Taco, Taco, Taco.”


It was decided I needed some bute and steroids in hopes of reducing whatever inflammation was causing me to amble about in such a bizarre manner. That doc, she really knows her stuff.


I was feeling much better the next day and after a few weeks of meds and rest I was back to almost normal. I do drag my toes a little more than I did before. As the famous Cat Burglar, I have 9 lives, but I have lost track of how many this is!!

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