Dispatching January

Amidst daily concerns, the horses consistently make me smile

Baby Rudy, our ten-month-old colt, has been a grounding presence these past few weeks. Not even considering daily headlines, the accumulation of other things has made this January more challenging than usual.

First, a wicked windstorm tore apart the barn where we board our horses when we travel. We had only been gone a few days but hurried home early to help pick up the pieces. Thankfully, no horse or human was hurt. (Our deep gratitude goes to Tom & Tina who generously watch our horse family when we travel.)

We were just collecting ourselves (with temperatures wildly in the 40s) when an atmospheric river washed over the region dumping three inches of rain followed by three inches of snow. Moisture-soaked snow at higher elevations came thundering down the mountains in multiple avalanches that cascaded over roads and rivers. The road is still closed just a few miles up the mountain from our place. Meanwhile, the barn flooded.

Then, three days ago, the weather turned more typically cold for this time of year. Yesterday it was minus 17 degrees when I fed the horses – a 66-degree difference from the week before. In very cold weather, my gelding, Dasani, has the habit of parking his fanny over the heated water trough. His steamy bidet is comfy enough to take a poo. So at minus 17, I was out scrubbing his trough in the dark as water froze instantly to my wet gloves. (Hey, this is what I signed up for, right?)

Add to all of this, my dear husband is fighting his second bout of pneumonia this winter. Doctor’s orders include REST and MORE rest, which is extraordinarily hard for a man who is always on the move. His body is demanding that he listen.

Amidst these daily concerns, Rudy consistently makes me smile. His brown eyes are warm with wonder. He never fails to greet me at the stall door. I stand still as he investigates my face with his soft whiskered muzzle. For a moment we breathe each other’s air.

“Don’t bite,” I think, to which he responds by grabbing my coat collar with his teeth.

When I say “Hey,” he turns away. Toddlers are always testing boundaries.

The other day, Rudy was messing around with the handles of the ice chipper, muck rake, and shovel while I cleaned his stall. As he nibbled on the shovel, his little jaw suddenly got wedged into the loop of the hard plastic handle. He threw his head and the shovel swung up on the hinge of his astonished mouth. He reared high trying to escape the shovel-turned-horse-eating monster. As the shovel dropped from his mouth, Rudy fell over backward right into the wheelbarrow full of frozen turds. He rolled off and found himself wedged between the wheelbarrow and the stall wall. He lay there a moment, stunned. As was I. With sheer adrenaline, I lifted the heavy wheelbarrow sideways to free him from his predicament.

Rudy got up and did an “Ow, Ow, Ow,” dance. Then he shook it off.

“Are you okay?” I said, taking a closer look. His butt was soaked in pee. I washed him up, and as I finished patting him dry, he put his head over my shoulder and leaned in. I closed my eyes and felt my heart ache with tenderness. Even 700-pound youngsters need comfort from time to time.

I have to think that horses, dogs, and humans alike are all happy to see January 2025 done and over with. We are gaining light now by more than five minutes a day. Welcome, February, the month of love and light. We can all use a bit of that right now.