In which my horse convinces me that he’s dying

Yesterday, Kinetic convinced me he was dying.

I got off work early and decided to pay the old man a visit since there was some actual daylight left. I get to the barn and find him laid flat out in the pasture, third eyelid rolled up, making groaning noises.

Oh shit.

I poke and prod him, and he doesn’t pay me any attention. This, coming from the horse that doesn’t tolerate any disturbance of his rest. He’s never allowed me to take that really adorable picture of the owner sitting on their horse while it’s drowsily napping on the ground (you know, this picture); he’s always stood up before I could even get my camera out, and usually twitches an annoyed ear in the bargain. I mean, Kinetic was down.

At this point, other horses are coming over to sniff him and he barely lifts his head in recognition. My horse, who hates other horses invading his space, is letting himself be nose-molested by curious pasture mates.

Oh shit shit.

I immediately think colic, but gut sounds are fine. No temp. No grievous injuries that would precede shock. Capillary refill is good. No signs of neurological trauma. I’m wracking my brain for other signs and symptoms to check. Meanwhile, Kinetic is still totally unresponsive to anything…only the occasional groan and twitch to indicate he’s still alive.

Just as I’m about to start hyperventilating, Kinetic gives a massive groan and shudder.

Oh shit shit shit.

This is it. I’m convinced my horse is dying in front of me. I have the phone out, ready to call the vet/coroner/neighbor with shotgun, when Kinetic sleepily blinks his eyes, yawns, rolls to his feet, and gives me a condescending “what are you staring at?” look.

When I left, he was happily munching grass in the pasture.

I guess he was just really enjoying his old man nap in the sun. Jerk.