Hold the Gravy

After filling the garbage can with uneaten $23/bag horse feed this weekend, I was beginning to crack.  What is wrong with my horse?  Is anything wrong?  Harley keeps smiling at me and acting like his cheerful self, but eating less than half of his normal ration at mealtime just cannot be good.  I rode him for fifteen minutes on Monday and he seemed totally normal, but I felt guilty wondering if I was working him while hydrochloric acid was sloshing in his gut.  According to the advertising of exorbitantly-priced ulcer medications, ulcer horses often "suffer in silence".  I was starting to feel panic set in.  I read and reread the SmartPak supplements list, which is not a good idea for my wallet, researched the likelihood of horses developing ulcers, poured over my notes from his last vet visit and a recent Purina seminar that I attended, and started searching for answers on forums, another bad idea, but this time for my psyche.

I kept checking and rechecking my SmartPak order like it was a magic potion.  Only two more days.

Just like the last time I checked.

Five minutes ago.

This is what happens when I have time off.  Normally, my job would prevent me from going totally neurotic about Harley and something going awry.  What am I going to do if I have kids to worry about some day?

Upon further inspection, the impulse-buy Neigh-Lox did not appear to be to Harley's taste.  After eating some from my hand initially, now he was leaving it in the meal trough with his uneaten slop.  I started to fret that the antacid was turning him off his dinner even more and removed it from his menu.  I also reduced his grain again, fearing that a building colic was inevitable.  The barn owner called me and politely questioned my feed changes.  When I explained that I didn't think he would eat anymore than 3/4 of a scoop, she offered to give him a little at a time so that she could keep track of how much he was actually willing to consume.  I thanked her profusely for her help and apologized for making so many changes in such a short time.  She knows that I worry.  I think that I can keep it together much better for other horses (I think), but when it comes to Harley I can get lost pretty quickly.  I just want him back to normal.  Now.

I received an evening text from the barn owner with good news: Harley ate all of his dinner.

Really?

I was happy, but still confused.  I learned of the solution the next day when I visited the barn to check on my big, quadruped child, and I immediately had flashbacks of being a cat owner.  There were certain flavors of wet food that my cat would eat happily without complaint, but I didn't dare buy the "turkey with giblets"!  According to the feline palate, that stuff was not made to specification and you could not get my cat to put his nose anywhere near those brown lumps in thick gravy.  Give him the mashed up food or dry crunchies and he was fine, but no giblets in gravy!  No, no, no!

Turns out, Harley has decided that he does not like gravy anymore.  Sure, he has had his food watered down for years and eaten it without fanfare.  Yes, he used to receive generous portions of beet pulp and ate them wet and soupy with his Ultium.  We had stopped wetting his food temporarily this winter, because he did not want to eat "cold" dinner, at least that was what we thought was the problem.  We started wetting his food again when the vet saw him two weeks ago and he scared me (again) with what appeared to be belly pain.  Everyone is always concerned that he is having trouble chewing, so we started soaking his grain again.  He ate it fine until this weekend.  When the barn owner fed him piece-wise she did not soak each portion and he gobbled them up.  She tried it again the next morning and he ate 1 and 1/2 scoops without hesitation.

Like my former beloved cat, it appears that Harley is not a "turkey with giblets" fan.  Since wet feed made his trough a sloppy mess, I cannot say that I am disappointed, although I did like getting some extra water into him.  I am breathing a little easier knowing that he is eating his meals again, but I am also wondering what will be next.
Mr. Particular is getting even more-so with age.

Love you, Harley, but sheesh.  Pass the Neigh-Lox.

Innocently, "Who me?"