Murphy decided to tag along with his stupid Law.
Tuesday evening, I ended going back at work, therefore, the horse trailer was not emptied of all the farm implements and sundries. Instead, I chose to do it while it was raining cats and dogs early Wednesday morning. The rain, of course, stopped after I was soaked from the three hours of fiddling with the trailer and feeding chores.
My trailer enclosure is on a slight downhill in the field. My truck struggled to get it out of the muck. Not fun to fishtail a 38' trailer in a tight space!
I do love that 14 year old truck. Ford 7.3 Liter F-350's RULE!
No vehicle remains unscathed if left in the pasture.
Here I am trying to back it through the narrow gate to hide the trailer in my backyard until our afternoon appointment. Tommy blocked my view of the gate posts, popped the screen out with his tongue and doodled on the paint with his horns. Two minutes, people! Mr. Mayhem.
In spite of Murphy's interference, we arrived on time at Tuskegee's Small Animal Clinic. During my two hour wait, I repeatedly asked the receptionist if I was next. When my patience walked out the door, I followed, but not before a final plead. The truth came out: Cole's orthopedic surgeon wasn't even in the building, he was conducting interviews all morning, this wasn't a last minute development. She'd been trying to contact him to see if he could come over during a break...she was trying to cover for herself because she'd made a mistake giving me an bad appointment last week. Murphy, you've surpassed yourself!
The good doctor did call me later on and asked me to come by his house in the evening to evaluate Cole. A free house call certainly makes up for wasted time.
Cole and I didn't get our leisurely lunch, we sped off for pet sitting and cleaning duties. We careened into the yard with little time to load the oxen up for their vet school visit.
Murphy must have been on his break because the boys loaded with no problems. But, that was the end of the good luck. As soon as I clipped the chain to Mack's collar, he started to dance a jig. The trailer is 8' wide, they're at least 9' long. To pivot on their slide bar, they have to compress themselves. With my escape route blocked by 3000 lbs having a temper tantrum, I went to hide in the front of the trailer behind Tommy. Mack's crashing around upset Tommy (my sensitive child) and he started to dance.
I joined the hoedown to stay clear of them. This was the first time the boys truly scared me. I'd opened the front window behind Tommy, but the screen was jammed. My plan was to bail out head first! I turned my back for a second to use both hands and that's when he got me. He smeared me like peanut butter along the wall with his rump. It wasn't quick either. Something was acting like a big speed bump: my rib cage and my head. With zero air in my lungs and my ribs compressed flat, I used my split second of clarity to contemplate how ignominious this death would be. Dr. P wasn't home, so by the time anyone would find me, I'd be 2" thick under 4" of manure. When Tommy finished his pivot, I saw the path out the back was clear and I took it.
I went back to the house to change my underwear and get sweet feed to calm them while I cranked up the tail gate. The crank is in the worst place: in the middle of the trailer, by Mack's horns. Moving it is now a priority.
We lumbered into the Auburn's Large Animal Clinic only 15 minutes late. They didn't mind as they had other emergencies to tend. We had to wait over an hour, but I absolutely didn't care at this point.
The oxen received their vaccinations and rabies shots while strapped down to the tilt table. We only have 10-15 minutes to work on their feet before it becomes too dangerous for internal organ damage.
Dr. Edmundson found a piece of metal embedded in Tommy's sole. It had to be dug out and it was a painful process. Poor monkey.
Otherwise, their fecal samples showed no worms and their feet look great, so we won't need to repeat this exercise for another 6 months.
By the time I got home, Dr .P was back and he came to help me unload. The boys' had slid the interior latch shut on the side door, so I had to once again climb over the tailgate. I should take yoga classes. As I was being hoisted and pushed up, the comment was made that I was getting too old for this. I couldn't agree more.
Cole and I swung by the orthopedist's house on our way back to work. Not so good news: in spite of the knee joint being tight, the patella has gone lateral. No idea what's to be done about it, but he was clear as to what shouldn't happen... no more one mile walks per day for the next few weeks. Back to Square One. And no talk of taking him trail running in May either. Kick a girl when she's been pummeled and crapped on, will ya?
No Smith duo road trips for a while.
By 11 PM, I was finally having supper in bed. My jobs were done, Murphy had given it his all and we'd told him where to shove it.
Now, I can enjoy the best vegetable gardening time in Alabama: May. Cole and I will plan to leave instead during the worst vegetable gardening time: August. It all works out in the end!
