The road to recovery is paved with anxiety

This morning I didn't have yard work, but I went to the yard early to check on Max. Who wouldn't?

I approached his box and saw that he was lying down. One look told me he wasn't quite right. He was awake, but seemed not quite there. I called his name three times before he looked up at me. No whuffle.

I walked in and knelt by his head. "All right, Max?" Tiny head nod.

"Do you want some toast and marmite?"

I proffered his breakfast treat and he sniffed, became a little more animated, and happily ate each little strip I broke off for him, chewing thoughtfully before offering his head for another bit to chew on. I got up and checked his feed bowl, and it was licked clean. No problem with his appetite. I knelt again by his head and looked intently. Eyes clear, nose clear, breathing OK.

No real signs of anything wrong, he just seemed subdued. Max dialled down is not something I'm accustomed to, nor do I like to see it.

Had to leave him for work, but told him I'd be back in a few hours and would have a better look then.

Went out onto the yard and asked if he'd come in from the field all right. Yes, he'd been fine. So I just asked that they keep an eye on him until my return, and to not hesitate to call the vet if anything looked amiss. Vet first, then me.

When I got back, I parked up and walked round to his side of the yard, relieved to see his head now peeking over the box, as I would expect. He must have heard me coming.

He was absolutely fine. I spent about an hour with him. Gave him his drug laced lunch, fed him a juicy mango (which he loved) and then spent ages scratching his back and side for him to remove the loose hair and dirt, while he went into blissful stretches, lip quivers, and occasionally pointed with his nose to the place he wanted me to scratch next.

He was not interested in being brushed at all, but digging in with my fingernails was definitely welcome. The box was full of loose hair flying about, and Max was full of head nods and shakes, asking for kisses and following directions for backing up and moving sideways like a pro.

Finally I picked his feet out and by doing so got a chance to have a good look at his undercarriage. Still very swollen, but looking basically OK. Yes, it could use a clean, but not in an alarming way, and I am not willing to put him through that yet. As Sammie's mum said last night (oh, I've been plaguing her with texts and e-mails, but I know she doesn't mind one little bit), if the vets had thought he needed me to clean him as part of his aftercare, they'd have said so.

"Leave it alone don't touch!" is my mantra.

Yard owner came over to check on him while I was scratching, and I mentioned again that he'd been a little off in the morning, but seemed absolutely fine now.

"He is fine," she said, matter of factly. "He was kicking his door for his lunch. He's picked up on that pretty quick, considering he's only been getting lunch for one day!"

I could see from her look that she thought I was being a little over-protective and admittedly, perhaps I am, but there was definitely something. But anyone who has a dog, cat, hamster, rabbit etc, or even a child for that matter, will completely understand the assessing look that tells you something isn't right. I won't take credit for being the best at animal husbandry, or horse knowledge, or much of anything at all, but I do know my boy.

I am happy for the moment. Led him out to his field with a spring in his step. Watched him go off happily and easily to graze, no sign of despondency or discomfort. And tomorrow morning, I will again be anxious, but I suppose with each passing day, that anxiety will wane a little until the moment when I finally know that all is healed and well.

Came back from grocery shopping today and had a sudden thought that although I will be pleased to arrive at the yard and hear someone tell me "Oh! Max dropped! I saw it!" it is not something I want to miss. I want to be there the first time it happens, much as I'd like to see a baby take his first steps.