At Fault

Darcy during our midnight vigil. She clearly wonders what all the fuss is about.

This weekend, my horse Darcy colicked. To non-horsepeople, that sounds like no big deal. She had a tummyache. But because horses cannot burp or vomit, colic can actually be a life-threatening condition. Darcy was clearly in a lot of pain. My vet had to come on two emergency farm calls, entubate her twice (which Darcy does not like), and palpate her (the long, scary glove procedure).

When the vet left the last time, she said the next six hours would tell the tale. And if Darcy showed signs of pain, we would have to trailer her to a vet hospital for either IV fluid treatments or surgery. Horses don't do well with surgery, and many end up having to be put down.

I was a wreck, but thanks to my vet, my new barn owner, and my husband, after a long, cold night in the barn watching her, Darcy came through just fine. And I spent the next few days wondering what I had done to cause her to get sick. Was it food? Not enough water? The change in weather? The change of barn? A flake of new hay? Bad karma?

Horses are large, delicate creatures, and they colic. I now have a better strategy for keeping her healthy (and a very large vet bill). So I'm going to stop worrying about whether or not I was at fault and concentrate on keeping her well.

Coincidentally, At Fault is the title the third book in the Southern Fraud Series. It will feature–you guessed it–an auto insurance fraud case, and if my husband has anything to say about it, a lot of muscle cars. (I prefer the muscly men though. Ahem. Vincent.)