This morning I was meant to be competing in a dressage competition, but first thing I could barely walk and came limping in for my breakfast, holding up my left foreleg with maximum pathos. I got lots of sympathy and was promised a visit from the nice vet that gave me time off before. When the vet came, I marched manfully round the yard, trying to look sound. As She insisted that I really had been lame, he took my shoe off and poked my foot where it really hurt so I bit him on the bottom.
Apparently I had a nail hole in the sensitive part of my foot. It may be that the new farrier is responsible, and the old farrier is definitely responsible for the extensive bruising round my toe. While She raged and frothed at the mouth, the vet pronounced that I must have a few days off and a footbath and poultice. He is a nice man.
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