Greener Pastures - Alyssa Brugman [29]
Chance was in obvious pain – obvious to Shelby, at least. She looked over at Lydia. Her face was pale again. She had her arms crossed. Lee was sitting on an overturned milk crate, still scowling, as though the pony's condition was Clint's fault.
After Clint had done the front hooves Chance lay down. Clint trimmed the back two hooves while the horse lay on his side. Shelby had never seen that before, but Clint seemed to be quite comfortable with it.
When he had finished Clint showed Lydia how to tape the styrofoam to Chance's feet.
Chance didn't move. He lay on his side in the dirt. Lydia kneeled down next to him and put her cheek against his ribs, running her hand across his soft coat. Lydia did love the little pony. She didn't know what she was doing, but it wasn't because she didn't care.
'Do we have to get him up?' Lydia asked.
'No, he can rest if he wants to. When he does stand up he's going to feel much better. He's still got a long way to go.' Clint packed his rasps back into his toolbox. 'The most important thing is to determine the cause. You say you feed him grass and that's all? No sweeties? Even carrots and apples are quite high in sugars.'
Lydia stood up. 'We don't give him anything else. Just grass,' she insisted.
'Is it possible that toxins, pesticides or herbicides, can be washed down through your pasture from somewhere else? Maybe he's eating that? What did they used to grow on this land? Has it always been scrubby like this? Was it ever landfill?'
Lee frowned.
'I'm just saying, if you don't figure out what's giving him this founder then you're not going to ever make him better,' Clint finished.
The two men shook hands and then Clint left to pack his tools away in the ute.
Once he was around the corner of the house, Lee laughed. 'Cinnamon? Was he fair dinkum? I've never heard such a heap of claptrap in my life. I'm glad no one else can see those styrofoam shoes that horse is wearing. They look ridiculous!'
Shelby thought about telling him that it didn't look as bad as being lame, but thought she better not say anything.
Lee put his hands on his hips. 'All right, you can ring the vet.'
Lydia smiled. 'Thanks, Daddy.'
Shelby heard Clint's engine start. It was time to go.
'A few thousand dollars. The stupid thing was supposed to save me money!' Lee shook his head.
'What do you mean?' Shelby hadn't heard of anyone ever saving money by owning a horse.
Lydia explained. 'Dad only agreed to let me have a pony because he eats the grass clippings that Dad brings home from his golf club contract. Otherwise Dad would have to pay to take them to the dump.'
'You're feeding Chance lawn clippings?' Shelby asked. 'You didn't tell me that!'
'What are you talking about, Shelby? Every time you've asked me what I feed him I've said "grass"!'
'Lawn clippings aren't grass!' Shelby spluttered. 'They have all the toxic fumes from the mower in them, for starters. And the lawns at the golf club would be stressed from being mown all the time, so it's higher in fructose. And you would probably dress them with blood and bone, and all kinds of other stuff. No
wonder he's sick! Lawn clippings are the worst thing you could possibly feed this pony. You've got to stop!' Lee lost his temper. 'Well, he's no good to us then, is he?'
15 Promises
After school the next day, Hayley worked Diablo's filly for the first time. Shelby had expected Miss Anita to be giving the lesson, but Brenda Edel was doing that herself. She'd seen Mrs Edel ride before, but never give a lesson, so Shelby abandoned her wheelbarrow in the laneway and leaned against the arena fence to watch.
When Shelby last saw the filly she was young, awkward, dirty from rolling around in the paddock and bum-high, with a long, thick, knotty mane like a broodmare, but now she was back from the breakers she was tall, broad and imposing.
Brenda had wrapped the filly's legs in white bandages for protection and she had on a white saddle blanket. She looked elegant and athletic, like those horses that do dressage to music.
Over