Poison

This morning I looked like one of those characters in a cartoon where water streams out of its eyes in a gush.

I don't remember ever crying so hard - not ever. Except when our first dog died, when I was seven.

Last month I poisoned Twiglet, our wonder-dog, by giving him an ibuprofen after Kind Neighbours' dogs attacked and hurt him.  £450, hundreds of pills and four weeks later, he is now as good as new, no thanks to me.  

Today I poisoned my horse.  With rat poison.

She was crashing around the stable, dripping all over with sweat, 'lip curling, rolling on her sides, scraping her front hooves on the concrete, gasping.

In a way I am relieved that I can still feel, and so hard.  I was beginning to think that I had become a bit emotionless, but clearly it's all still latent. I don't know how actors can portray that amount of sheer grief unless they have felt it themselves, and it's taken me til I'm 54.

I rang the vet four times: "Hurry hurry hurry hurry" I sobbed.  I got the picnic stool out and sat near adorable Vegas, gasping "I'm so sorry," to her, over and over and over again and stroking her wet neck.

Gradually she quietened.  I wondered whether she would shortly lie down and die.

After an hour I heard Vivian's car finally arriving, and she came in and took Vegas' heartbeat and listened to her gut.

"Clinically she's perfectly OK," she commented.

Vegas had barged through a blocked door into a small section of the barn which had two small trays of rat poison on the ground, and had clearly panicked as she couldn't turn around to get out again.  She must have eventually backed out in fright.

On close inspection we found it difficult to believe Vegas had actually eaten any of the poison - it didn't look disturbed - and Vivian said that the behaviour I described wouldn't have been caused by rat poison.  By now Vegas had started eating her hay.  Vivian said she thought the incident had been colic induced by stress, and gave Vegas a jab to calm her stomach.

She seems to be fine now.  Just like Twiglet.

So there we are. What a morning.  I feel very odd. And not very proud of myself.  Beware of your Mama, pets.