Gus acts the sourpuss again today. He’s not interested in trotting, or chasing the beachball, or pirouetting, or even walking around in any focused or meaningful way. Snuffling slowly along the ground for dropped treats: check. Cooperating with a human to earn treats: negatory.
I look and feel him all over for swelling or sore spots, but Gus is famously not a stoic (case in point), so I’m not surprised to find no injury. He’s eager to gobble up treats, but back in the stall he barely touches his nose to his hay before he stumps away and gazes dully out into the barn aisle. He looks like he just swallowed a very yucky tarantula.
I mention this to Sandy, who has kinda noticed it too, and she wonders if he might have Lyme disease. In horses (as in humans, only more so) it can be extremely insidious and variable. The Lyme titers are getting more accurate and reliable, but they require a blood draw, and Gus has made it clear in the past that no needles of any kind shall ever touch his skin. Over the phone, the vet suggests maybe giving him 10 days of doxycycline: if we notice clear improvement, we’d continue for the full month; if not, we’d stop giving it. Nobody loves this protocol, but if we’re pretty sure he’s sick, it’s about the only workable approach. We decide to wait and watch. I give Gus some extra-deep and satisfying ear scritches before heading home.
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