Mustang Saga

Waiting... Waiting... Waiting...

I don't like waiting. I'm so glad I don't have to wait a week for Tonka's test results. It is 4:58. If the vet closes at 5:00 will I be forgotten and the doctor will go home for the weekend? Should I call? Or is that too annoying, because she said she'd call me? I figure if I don't call, and she does go home, I can insist that they call her at home so she can tell me. But that may be almost more obnoxious than calling the office right before 5:00.

So I sit here, blogging and every now and then sighing very deeply, because I've forgotten to breathe. I do that a lot when I'm worried. I think we all do. Are you breathing?

I followed Tonka around FOREVER this morning waiting for him to pee so I could catch it in a bucket. He really wanted to know what was in that bucket. I showed him it was empty, but he still had to check every 32.5 seconds, just in case some food got in there somehow. He finally got to grazing, and I watched, and watched, and watched. I've never stared at a horse's pee-wee (as my son would say) so much in my life. He'd drop, and I'd go on the alert, but then he'd put it away. I couldn't leave, because I was dead certain that as soon as I got halfway back to the barn he'd pee. So I took him back with me. And he still didn't pee. So I finally went and did what I was supposed to be doing, an hour late.

When we got to the vet's I unloaded him, walked him around, tied him to the trailer, and he peed. And I just happened to have a cup handy. :)

I broke down and called the vet. They're "just finishing up the blood" and will call me in 10 minutes. I'll be back. I'm going to go pack, in hopes that I can still go to Mustang Days.