His Highness, Horse

He is otherwise known these days as The Lucky Bastard. I tell people about the endeavor of his trip, always to be asked variants of the question ‘why this horse?’ I was asked by my boss, the Dean at Northwestern whether I “was bonded with the horse,” a sideways way of asking why on earth this beast with four legs deserved a trip halfway around the world to the greener pastures of America. Well, yes, he’s my buddy, friend, and has good breeding he might pass on to some American mares. Yes, there will be mares waiting for him. Lucky bastard…

And the trip itself has only been half of it. Investing in the plane tickets has made me paranoid about his health, each day picking over him like he’s a piece of fine fragile china about to break. His feed has been monitored down to the last piece of grain and hay; he has been receiving daily vitamin supplements to do everything from increasing his hydration levels to calming his anxiety. He also has his psyllium supplements, too, to clear the sand out of his intestines, as they pick up tidbits of dirt as they eat off the ground, and it accumulates over time, potentially blocking the system, something that can kill a horse very easily. Each set of blood tests has been about all those diseases that could kill him: blood parasites, infectious anemia, plasmosis something-or-other, etc, etc. The insurance company wants to know his replacement cost, should he die. (The customs agents hope he lives, though, as they want to know his value to charge a duty…)

If I could wrap sheepskin around the whole beast to keep him from breaking I would. But unfortunately it would make him collapse ( and yes, die...) of heat exhaustion. So I've settled for padding the halter/head collar he'll have to wear for ten days, to keep it from chafing his preciously thin Arab skin...

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So what do paranoid horse owners do? They become spa attendants, actually.  In the last month he has received not just his vitamins, but daily fresh alfalfa, a daily kilo of carrots, a daily grooming, a daily bubble bath, daily hoof conditioner (like hand cream for dry cuticles), and a daily dressing with fly repellant (per the orders of the USDA disease prevention regime). This treatment has come as I have stopped demanding any exercise of him, as his saddle and various riding accoutrements went back to the US last week in the luggage of a friend who came to visit, to prevent the lovely aged leather from being incinerated, or at the least, dunked in disinfectant, at the quarantine. (Yes, they do that, I was warned...) So each evening he awaits his fresh salad and spa treatment, sans exercise or effort. He’s remarkably happy to see me arrive. If he’s out in the paddock he trots over to my car. ‘Where’s my alfalfa, then?’ he asks. Lucky bastard, indeed.

Its actually chilled alfalfa, taking up three quarters of my fridge…

Today I spent half the day running about town to arrange his air conditioned horse box ride to the airport, to collect more alfalfa, to buy him molasses for his water on the airplane (which is not a grocery store standard in the Middle East, so it required three grocery stores to find it…). At the office I was printing copies of his import permits, entering emergency numbers into my phone, updating his website (to find those mares…) and emailing the driver that will pick up from quarantine and whisk him across country to Colorado.

Its not like they lose them en route, and I'm going to be with him most of the time, but the paranoid mother joined here with the desire not to lose the new sheepskin covered leather halter...which can indeed disappear en route.

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So, in the end, what about packing and shipping my own belongings? Cleaning up my own office papers? And how about that manicure and spa session?  My own colon cleanser? Some calming supplements? Please, I wish someone thought I was going to die riding an airplane!

Colon cleanse, anyone?