The Traveling Murphy

Most people experience trailering drama at one point or another within their horse career. It can be stressful, but most of the time you can power through it and still have a horse at the end.

Murphy, however, likes to be complicated.

You want me to go where now?

Now, Murphy has been trailered many times in his life. His breeder wanted him to be a trail horse (another story for another time) and she had taken him several places for new trails. After it became excessively clear that he wasn't a trail horse, his breeder taught him to jump and took him to a few hunter/jumper shows where he did.... meh.

The point is: He knows what the freak a trailer is. He's been in them. Gone places. And you know what? It hasn't killed him yet.

So last year my family moved across the state and since I was going abroad to Italy for a semester we left Murphy at his current farm (which was cheap and we knew the owners) until I got back into the country.
This seemed like a good plan (once again, another story for another day).

So the time came to move Murphy to his new barn that I painstakingly picked out for him. But, I was four hours away waiting for him to arrive and had no control over how he was getting there.

Now, as a poor college student I like to take what I can get.
(Ugly burgundy crop to match my "red" horse? Thanks great aunt Matilda!)
So, when my step-sister's boyfriend offered to trailer him over for me the answer was obviously: Heck to the yes!

The appointed time of arrival came and went and I was frantic with worry. What if something had gone wrong? I don't even freaking have this boy's phone number! Blah blah freaking out blah blah blah.
But, he showed up a few minutes later. Apparently his GPS believed the barn was about three miles back on the road.

Mommy, I has an ouchie.

I stand at the window and see my baby BLEEDING FROM HIS FACE!!!
Well... more like bleeding from a few cuts and scrapes.
But to my mind he was going to bleed out in a manner of seconds.

To make matters worse, instead of waiting for SSBF (step-sister's boyfriend) to calmly untie and lead him out, Murphy jerked the rope, breaking the twine, and jetted off the trailer as fast as his legs could back up.

The sight of him did little to appease my nerves. His front right knee was swollen and every single area of his body had at least one bleeding gaping wound. Or small little cuts easily covered with Wound-Kote. Whatever.

Then came the pièce de résistance. He had cut off his left hind heel bulb. Cut it off. It was gone.
I'll spare you the gruesome image, but suffice it to say: No Hoof, No Horse.

I got a band-aid!

At least I got to know my new farrier really well?
And I was lucky enough to have him on hand to help me out with Murphy's first of many bandages. I was also lucky enough to have just studied making foot bandages in school. Yay for horse school!
His first summer back in work and it starts without a foot.

That is just my horse.

What other things can I break myself on?