Sad and Angry

Yes, Parlay and I are a pair today.

My day started out rough. I woke from a weird dream about riding Parlay in a field hunt.

Parlay was his usual strong willed and strong bodied self in my dream. There was a huge, striking Bay galloping in front of us and Parlay just HAD to get in front of him... So, like always, he was muscling his way up to the front of the pack, totally unimpressed with my feeble attempts to reel him in.

And then it happened.

Parlay started to slow up before he caught the leader---I thought I was winning the "whoa!" battle, but no--it was more like the wind got knocked out of him and he started to fall and we were tumbling down what felt like a steep slope and I saw the ground coming fast...

And then I woke up with a start. Not a great way to start the day.

Of course, I throw on a pair of jeans and run out there immediately. The three jugheads turn my way and give me the look of pleased curiosity. Breakfast comes early...

While they are eating, I do my usual once over of Par. Pulse 50, resp 24. Not awful, I guess. He is eating nicely. I check over all of his *parts*. Everything looks okay. I am still nursing a bunch of abscesses that appeared on his coronary bands a couple of days ago. They are covered in neon pink SWAT. Lovely.

I give him a quick once over with a brush and step back to get the fly spray. I look him over and question what I see. Parlay is not looking so thin anymore (4 meals a day will do that), yet I still see the shadow of his ribs. But, what really draws my attention is his belly. It seems "puffy." Like, bloated maybe. Like, something I should be worried about...maybe. So, I decide to take a picture of it and forward it to the vet.

I stand there and try to get Parlay to pose. In order for him to look at me and maybe prick his ears, I throw the brush that I am holding up into the air. It promptly comes soaring back from the atmosphere and smacks me right in the head. I almost fall to the ground. Good grief, I almost knocked myself out!

Parlay snickered. Drat!

I send the pic and wait for a reply. Nothing. So, I quickly decide to boost the Lasix. It is supposed to be hot anyway and I don't want him having to struggle to breathe. After the Lasix shot, I jamb some Doxy down his gullet. Parlay snarls at me and gives me the *look*. Fine. I have to get the kid to camp and me to work anyway.

On my drive, my son and I are talking about friendship and love. He asks me who my best friend is, after him of course, and I immediately respond, "Parlay." It just came out. And then, so did the tears.

Parlay IS my best friend, after all. I used to whisper it into his ear when we were riding with my dog, Frisko, so it wouldn't hurt the dog's feelings. I used to tell him when I was out at the barn late at night disclosing the days events. I told him when we were out at our last event and he was so feisty and proud of himself.

For as long as we have been together, it seems like the time is too short now. I stand with him outside and he sighs as I scratch him in his favorite spots. I chastise him for beating up his pasture mates. I lecture him about eating properly. I beg him to get better. I listen for any advice that he cares to impart...

Tonight Parlay was crabby. He attacked his food pail and ate aggressively. I took the vitals and they were all in line with the previous ones. He was impatient with my exam and annoyed that I was taking too long to get him out to the hay.

What is he trying to tell me? Is he angry that I am sad? It all seems so unfair.