After poor Gus got the crap beat out of him, we decided to forget about the wraps, continue with hosing his leg several times a day, and let him rest a few days. He was also put on some antibiotics and bute, courtesy of the trainer. Thankfully, the swelling went down and in a few days he was perfectly fine. However, we started to notice his comfort in cross ties was greatly deminished and he was becoming a little spooky. Nothing to alarming at first, just a startle here and there. We also noticed he was becoming a lot clumsier. Stumbling over small rocks or air. But again, we didn't worry too much. He was still adjusting to his new home. . . Right??
We continued plugging along as best we could. He still hadn't been on the trails much and my daughter didn't want to put herself or the horse in danger, so she decided to take it slow. Little bits of trail exposure here and there when she could get another friend to go with her and lots of arena work. Being that my daughter's lessons were not in the same location as the boarding facility, she continued lessons on a lesson horse. Her trainer was not at all pleased about that and scolded her for not making Gus "suck it up and walk over". It wasn't too long before another trainer decided to join the "suck it up" band wagon and the badgering was endless during lessons. I spoke to her trainer and told her that Gus wouldn't be to coming to lessons until we were sure they would both be safe walking over, and if she had a problem with that we could always find a new trainer. She back off. . . A little. My daughter continued lessons after our chat and the nagging started again. This time it was not holding her reins correctly, not shoving her heels down enough, not putting her leg on the horse, the reins were too long. To make it more interesting, the trainer didn't just tell her these things, she screeched/yelled them at her from across the arena while she was busy texting on her phone. None of these things were true. I was there the whole time. I told my frazzled daughter I was going to have a talk with her trainer about the yelling. She begged me not to. She insisted it bothered me more than it bothered her. My daughter made it through a few weeks of lessons like this, and after a complete mental breakdown, finally decided she had enough. Three years of lessons. . . Done . . . Just like that!
We even dropped our lease on the trainer's horse that we had loved for 2 years. Yes, we still had continued with our lease when we bought Gus. My daughter didn't want to give the mare up and she had an amazing time loving and caring for both horses. But anyway, that freed her up to spend even more time with Gus. And believe me, he needed the attention. Over 2 months, he continued to change. Spooking at things he didn't care about before, needing a stud chain for control when leading, cross ties were a horrible experience, turning circles in his stall, and we noticed his tongue was sticking out so often, that it was tanned from the sun. Worst of all, he became a bolter when under saddle. The final straw was when he bolted with my daughter in the arena. He spun and took off at a gallop, zig zagged near the fence and decided to throw my daughter off. She landed on the top rail (sternum first), then went for a short hanging drag before being bounced onto her neck. Gus continued galloping to the other side of the arena until he ran out of steam. My daughter got up and walked out of the arena (even though everyone yelled at her to stay down) and we took off for a lovely trip to the ER because she couldn't move her head/neck.
Why did he bolt? Well. . . Would you be surprised to know that my daughter's trainer (ex-trainer) was coming up the path where he began his "run, forest, run" moment? Ironically, the (ex)trainer was the one to retrieve him from the arena, untack him, and put him back in his stall. We found out after we arrived home, the (ex)trainer took the opportunity to punish Gus with some more kicks for his behavior before allowing him to go back to his stall. My daughter had a concussion, some damage to her AC shoulder joint, and a lovely assortment of scrapes and bruises. That was nothing compared to what poor Gus received when we left. We felt horrible for leaving him there like that, but there were so many people that witnessed the bolting incident and assured us Gus would be fine and taken care of. I felt like I was failing them both. It was time for a change. . . But what to do??!
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