Remembering Gus

Once upon a time, during the years before I moved to Vermont, I partnered, for a few of those years, in managing a boarding stable. We boarded between 10 and 15 horses and made an effort at breeding Appaloosas. Our sire, Saint, was a colorful, handsome boy with excellent conformation, our brood mare, Rosie, a sturdy, well put together gal who's colors were somewhat muted by comparison.

With great anticipation we awaited the birth of our first foal. Its birth went well and everything seemed fine for the first few days but as time passed, we noticed a rapid deterioration in the well being of our first baby. The vet was called but the foal died before he could determine what was amiss.

Distraught but determined, we decided to give Rosie ample time to get back on her feet and try again. And, again, we were blessed with a frisky little foal. A few days later, like a bad dream come back to haunt us, this little filly also took a turn for the worst. The vet came back and this time was able to determine the cause of our problems. It seemed that the parents had an RH incompatibility and Rosie's milk was poisoning her baby.

We quickly separated the two and I took over feedings. I named the filly "August Morn," called her "Gus" for short and began the process of teaching her how to drink from a bottle. I thought little Gus would take to a bottle without any difficulties, these things always look so easy when you see them done on television, but such was not to be the case. She was suffering from separation anxiety and confusion and wasn't sure what to do with an unfamiliar object.

I don't know what gave me the idea, but I decided to try bringing a bucket of milk up to her muzzle, putting my finger in the milk and slipping it into her soft, warm mouth. This seemed to appeal to her and in no time I was able to switch her over to a bottle. It wasn't long before she came to think of me as her mother and when she wasn't napping, would follow me everywhere as I cared for the other horses and tended to my chores. We became quite close and games of tag, hide and seek and kicking at each other became the norm.

In my memory I will always see her there with her dark, shiny coat, white spots prominant on her rear and liquid brown eyes looking into mine with the question "hey mom, what's up?"