On Saturday morning, I dragged myself out of bed. Since I hadn't received a call from the barn, I was most certain that Madge hadn't begun nursing on her own. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw my trainer's dad milking the mare when I arrived.
Dang.
I quickly entered the stall to help. Again, we tried to coax Madge to the teet, but she would have nothing to do with it as long as we were helping her out. "I can do it myself!" she'd stomp and walked away. "Just leave me alone!" And so, we did.
I'd like to say that the day was a success, that she suddenly figured out the way of the world and took her first drink, but it wasn't. I'd like to say I remained optimistic, but I struggled at times to keep my chin up. A bright spot came when my trainer's mom reported that she'd just received an e-mail from a friend who said that she once had a donkey that went eight days before latching on to the mare. The donkey grew up with no other physical or mental issues. There was hope!
In fact, there was a second bright spot in our tiresome day. Despite our previous concerns about her intelligence level, we began to observe that Madge is a vary capable mule. At my trainer's suggestion, we backed up our commands with the cues she'd be expected to follow throughout her life. By the end of the day, she was beginning to recognize that "cluck" means forward and "back" means backup. She also caught on to the concept of moving away from pressure. As an added bonus, she was already halter trained because of the feeding tube.
After a long day of feeding, I started the long drive home. I was tired, but hopeful that the next day would bring about a new change, and it did—just not the one we were hoping for.
Photo: Madge makes a friend, despite the disfiguring tape that holds her feeding tube in place.
1 comment:
I hope she figures it out for you. I had a dog I had for force feed, and finally tube feed during his cancer treatment and I know its no fun. My hopes and prayers are with you both.
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