Dawn Filly Part Three

Soon, Dr. Mather's familiar white vet truck pulled up to the rear of the barn. Wendy knew Dr. Mather and was accustomed to her regular visits at the farm. She was not accustomed to being the patient, however. she stood quietly while Dr. Mather removed the trauma bandage which now covered her lower hind leg. The humans had placed it there to try and slow the furious bleeding. Dr. Mather drew a slow inward breath as she observed the mangled limb. The skin fell away like a drooping sock, unable to hold itself up. Deep in the center of the wound, beneath a layer of severed flesh and tendon, glistened a hard white surface.

Wendy tasted fear in the outward breaths of the humans. She catalouged their faces and noted the emotions she recognized- there was dread, fear, sadness. Why did they all continue to look at her so solemnly? With fingers woven into the strawberry blonde mane, Amber caressed her neck in an absent, circular pattern. The humans talked in hushed tones. Wendy was able to decipher phrases but they held no meaning to her. She only recognized things such as her name and a few other random words. She listened, hoping to understand the bitter taste of fear which now filled the space around her.

"...Hospital, but I'm not sure they can save her....tendon sheath is missing....prognosis is poor...never be an athlete but...," the human murmurings blended together. Wendy began to feel sleepy. The pain was dulling now- to an ache. The voices were far away and she was warm and happy again.

As the sedative worked its magic, Dr. Mather and the humans developed a plan. The wound was so severe that many farms may have opted to euthanize the filly on the spot. Khris, the farm owner, asked the veterinarian if Wendy's pain would be manageable and Dr. Mather said only time would tell. As Wendy faded in and out of consciousness, she heard- or perhaps imagined- more human phrases.

"...Wendy, if you will just fight to survive, you have a home here forever....I don't care if she will be a show horse, can we just try to save her life...Let's try to stay ahead of the infection...all the drugs you have available..." continued the voices in her dreams.

Wendy awoke many hours later to a dull ache in her leg. She would soon find that the ache would be her companion for many weeks to come. Her leg was bandaged thickly with heavy cotton completely covering her lower leg and foot. She stepped gingerly across the stall and found that she could walk, even though it was halting. Wendy felt sorrow again. Amber entered her stall to begin what would become a regular routine of administering antibiotics through a catheter sewn into place in the hollow cavity of her throat and change her wrappings.  Wendy was determined that she would repay the humans for their hard work.  She stood quietly and concentrated on trying to do what they asked.

As the days turned into weeks, and those into months, Wendy thought of Baton Rouge only a little. She began to lose the sorrow which surrounded her and it was replaced by a sense of acceptance. She was no longer angry at Baton Rouge. She was also no longer angry at herself. The red roan filly who had raced across the meadow seemed far away to her now. 

Ben, the old bay gelding who had seen the events in the meadow that fateful day walked beside Amber on his way to the turn-out paddock. He glanced sideways at the beautiful filly who stood solemnly in the end stall of the barn nearest the door. Her amber coat glistened in the sunlight streaming through the front of the stall. She turned to meet his gaze and he caught his breath. The glow she emitted was more than her comely face and coloring- she was at peace and no longer an angry teenager. Here stood an old soul- aged by circumstance and acceptance. This was the dawn of a new filly.

The End.

Wendy was injured (as the story tells) in late Spring 2009. Our goal was to keep her alive for 24 hours, then 48, then a week, and so on. I promised her that if she would fight and live, she would have a home for always. True to that, Wendy survived and the Universe has reminded me to keep my promise to her. She endured months of bandage changes, antibiotics, stall rest, and even experimental treatments. She has achieved 90% of her former ability and continues to recover. Wendy has a remarkeable spirit which was integral to her recovery and survival.