Fawkes had his fall shots yesterday. He had two whole injections and got wormed. I went to see him last night and the conversation went something like this:
Fawkes: Sigh. I am dying.
Me: Hi buddy, do you want an apple?
One of Fawkes' life skills includes perfect apple eating. He takes nice bites, great size, never greedy or trying to swallow it whole.
Fawkes: Well. I don't know. But then again, I am dying, so I guess one last apple makes sense.
Commence a sad few minutes of Fawkes wrapping his lips around the apple, sighing, starting to sink his teeth in, pausing, and sighing again.
Me: Do you need some help? Here, I will bite a piece off and give it to you.
Fawkes: Thanks, that looks delicious. Let me take it, then hold it in my mouth for 30 seconds, and then sadly spit it on the ground. Because, dying.
Me: Hmmm, that isn't normal. Let's try some nice fresh grass instead.
Fawkes: OK, I like grass. Let me take it, then hold it in my mouth for 30 seconds, and then sadly spit *that* on the ground. Why bother when you aren't going to see tomorrow?
Me: OK, Eeyore, clearly you aren't feeling well from your shots. Interestingly, you demolished your grain and most of your evening hay is already gone, but I am sure you will never be able to eat again.
Fawkes: So true, pity me?
Me: Night kiddo, feel better.
Every fall and every spring, it is the same story. Poor little red horse doesn't feel well for several days after his shots. I really need to ask the vet if a banamine experiment would be worthwhile. I feel bad that there isn't anything I can do except scritch his withers. On the plus side, he should be feeling better again by tomorrow.