A Beautiful Day . . . Almost

I don't know how a May Day could have been more lovely---with just one frightening exception.  

Trees budding with abundance, deep green freshly trimmed lawn, sunshine on our shoulders from start to finish, flowers sent from my dear former student Jeff and from my beloved children---all made for a great day. 

Yesterday, I even came up with a new, somewhat effective way to avoid another night of interrupted sleep, thanks to the "intense Itch."  

This third year into the April-July itch, it has dawned on me that grass mowing and weed eating contribute a whole lot more to my weird allergy than little Foster ever could.

Once that possibility occurred to me, I got to thinking about the clothes I wear ALL day while working outside.  Those clothes, often covered with grass residue,  remain on my allergy-prone body until I'm ready to go to bed at night.

Yesterday, it suddenly dawned on me that if I would remove all those clothes and take a bath immediately after several hours of lawn mowing or weed eating, take a bath and put on a new set of clothes, maybe, just maybe, I could lessen the effects of this pesky allergy.

And, after a full night of sleep last night with no neck itches, I might just be on to something. Time and future nights of sleep or lack thereof will tell. 

I loved the day yesterday, especially the few minutes Debbie and I sat on the deck in the warm morning sun, visiting.  

Later, my horses enjoyed the hosing off I gave them before taking them to the round pen to get a taste of grass.  One has to be very careful this time of the year with horses and lush green grass, so the aim was "just a taste," and then you'll go back to the barnyard to beg. 

Lily has a way of begging.  She stands at the barnyard gate, looks toward the pastures and bangs on the gate with her front hooves. I've learned to tune it out because it's impossible to teach a horse that too much green grass this time of year will kill you or make you mighty sick AND neither is a good thing.

So, Lily has to stand and beg.

So, once the horses were happily nibbling at the small patch of grass in the round pen, I let the dogs out of their run and went to the house for my camera.

Dogs immediately raced to the circular metal training enclosure to "do their jobs," all except Foster.  He'd rather chase crows. 

While dogs worked racing around the pen, I was snapping away catching some of the scenes above when a loud yelping started on the north side of the round pen.  

Todd was down.  Other dogs came to his rescue.  At first, I thought Brooke had gotten mad at him, but the yelping became more intense.

I raced toward him; then, he took off across the field with the most horrid sight:  his back leg was dragging behind him. 

I yelled for him to stop, but Todd always races to where he feels safe.  So, it was a noisy minute or so as I raced after him, even more horrified as I saw the limp leg dragging.

In a frenzied state, I called Willie and Debbie and the vet hospital.  Dogs, except for Todd went into the garage.  Todd had gone for cover inside a small doghouse in the kennel.  I coaxed him out, and it appeared that he was using his leg.

Long story short, by the time we reached the vet hospital across the bridge, Todd was walking gingerly on his back leg.  The vet thinks he may have pulled something inside, so she gave him some pain pills, and, needless to say, the day turned out better.

Willie and Debbie brought pizza for dinner.  Todd was limping but okay.  Bill went off to a meeting of the Sportsmen's Association to talk about Humbird Mill, and I later reflected on what a wonderful May Day it was, especially with a happier ending to Todd's most recent injury.  

The dogs are here with Debbie, so I must go. 

Happy Friday.