Frankenhorse

If you haven't followed Fabian's story since the beginning, seeing him now, you'd never know why his nickname was "Frankenhorse."

 

I bred Fabian, but when I got divorced, the Coles near Topeka took his pregnant momma so she'd have a good home.  She was a cribber, older, and deaf, so she wasn't an easy horse to place, but thankfully they saw in her the real beauty she was.  

However, it wasn't quite that simple, unfortunately.  First, other friends of mine came to pick up a couple of horses and got the wrong horse, so the Coles and them had to do a switch from Missouri.  Then Fabian's momma developed a deep infection in her back hoof (cause still, to this day, unknown) and basically lost her whole back hoof.  Usually, in a situation like that, it's best to put the horse down, but the Coles decided to work hard everyday to save not only her life, but the life of the foal she was carrying.  With a lot of hard work and many, many hours in the barn, they managed to nurse her to a full recovery.

I was so happy to hear this because I had lost Fabian's full sister two years earlier--the sad result of a red bag delivery that happened before I got home from work.  She was a fighter and lived for 12 hours before a violent seizure finally took her.  I spent every minute of her life by her side trying to help her with her fight.  I had hoped, when rebreeding Fabian's momma (after a year off to let her fully recover), that I'd get a much better outcome, with the same beauty and determination that his sister had.

When Fabian was a foal, he was gorgeous.  Stunning.  Beautiful. Breathtaking.

Then, the Coles so kindly gave me the option to have Fabian and his momma back (because they had gotten so many of their old horses back). Seems as soon as I got him home, poor little Fabian quickly entered into his awkward stage.

And then, as if I didn't think it could have been possible, it got even worse.  Hence, he was nicknamed the "Frankenhorse" because his parts didn't seem to fit together right.  Poor guy.

Then, as if some cruel joke was being played on him, he came down with strangles (as did my whole herd that year--what a nightmare that was) and he was not only awkward, but thin as well.

The poor kid couldn't win.

Well, that was three years ago now...and today (well, as of two days ago, when I took this picture), you can see that although he looks wet and cold (by the way, he does have a large shelter available to him, swine horse), his body parts finally fit together just fine.

Over the past year and a half that I've had him back home after a brief stint in southwestern Missouri, he has really bloomed.  He's gotten taller than I ever thought he would (although he'll never, ever be a big horse), and he's actually gotten to be quite a looker, for the average backyard pasture pony that he is, anyway.

Of course, I might have rose-colored glasses on, but Fabian will always be my beautiful blue-eyed boy...

...frankenhorse or not.

It's alive!
~J