David E. Larsen, DVM

We had just finished dinner, and I opened the patio door so the girls could run off some energy in the backyard. I could see Ralph running in from the field out back. He loved the attention the girls gave him.

“You look a little tired,” Sandy said. “Maybe you should sit down. I can take care of cleaning the table. You clean Derek up a bit and keep track of him.”

I grabbed a washcloth and wrestled with Derek as I washed half his dinner off his hands and face.

“Things were a little busy today, but I’m not too tired,” I said as I lifted Derek out of his highchair. “I will take you up on the kitchen chores, however. I need to spend a minute with this guy.”

I settled into our recliner and balanced Derek on my knee. He was getting heavy enough that Sandy had to struggle to handle him. He had been almost ten pounds at birth, and he was growing like a weed,

I bounced Derek a couple of times, just enough to get a laugh out of him, and the phone rang.

Sandy looked around the corner at us, “Should I answer it?” she asked.

I bounced up and balanced Derek on my hip. I made my way over to the phone.

“Good evening,” I said. “This is Doctor Larsen. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, Doc, this is Wendy. I am so sorry to bother you, but Cat has hurt herself badly,” Wendy said. “She won’t set her right front foot down at all. She rears up if the tip of the hoof even touches the ground. I couldn’t get her out of her stall this evening.”

“Do you know what happened to her?” I asked.

“No, I rode her yesterday, and she seemed fine. I guess I thought she was a little lame when I put her up, but nothing that concerned me. And she has been in her stall all day. Do you think you could look at her tonight?” Wendy asked.

I knew that Wendy was attached to Cat. She planned to run her in some races this coming summer. I also knew that she overreacted to most injuries. I had been out late to look at some minor scratches before. But, if Cat was non-weight-bearing, I should get a look at her.

“It will take me a little time. We are just finishing dinner, and I have to give Sandy a hand with the kids, but I will be up there before too long,” I said.

“You can go now,” Sandy said as soon as I hung up the phone. “I can handle things here. If you go now, you will spend time with the kids before bedtime.”

“At least it’s not far,” I said. “I’ll put Derek in the playpen and get going.”

“Do you think it is something serious?” Sandy asked.

“Hopefully not,” I said. “If it is, Joe might end up with Wendy in the hospital.”

When I turned into the driveway, Wendy had all the lights on in the barn. She and Joe were waiting at the open barn door.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Wendy said. “I don’t think I could have slept with Cat in so much pain tonight.”

“What do you think?” Doc, Joe asked. “Is this something serious?”

“Well, I’ll wait till I get a look,” Joe said. “But most lameness in the horse is in the hoof. So we will start there.”

I grabbed my bag and hoof box and followed Joe and Wendy into the barn.

Cat was a young mare. She had a foal last year, but Wendy wanted to try running her on the track. She was fast. I had heard that story many times in my young career, and the trainers always had a reason why a horse didn’t do as well as the owner expected.

I stepped into the stall, and Cat nuzzled my shoulder but did not offer to move. At least she was a good horse to handle. I did a quick once over, checked her membranes, and listened to her chest. All the time, Cat stood still, holding her right front foot off the ground.

I knelt beside her right front leg and ran my hands down the leg to make sure there wasn’t an obvious fracture.

“What do you think, Doc?” Joe asked.

“Nothing obvious, Joe,” I said as I pulled my hoof box close. “I go over her hoof before we worry about anything else.”

I pulled out my favorite hoof knife and sharpened it with a few strokes of a round file. If this foot was so painful, I wanted to be able to clean it up with as little pressure as possible. 

I positioned myself beside Cat’s front leg, facing her rear, pulled the hoof up, and held it between my knees. I could feel Cat leaning heavily on me. She was tired from holding this foot off the ground.

I quickly cleaned the debris and dark sole material from the hoof, leaving me with a white sole to examine. I noticed that Cat had flinched a bit when I worked on the lateral half of the sole. When I looked closely, I could see a small dark crack in the middle of the lateral half of the sole.

I put down my knife and grabbed my hoof tester. I started on the medial side of the sole with only soft pressure. I started pinching the hook as I worked around to the lateral side.

I was not far from the midline when Cat first flinched. I moved the tester over to the crack. I touched the tester to the crack, and Cat pulled her hoof from between my knees and cried out a bit.

“I think I found the sore spot,” I said. 

“What’s going on, Doc?” Joe asked.

“She has an abscess in her foot. A sole abscess,” I said. “There is a little crack there. It could be from a puncture or landing on a sharp piece of gravel. It is unusual to be so painful in just one day, but we should be able to make things better for her right away.”

I stood up and stretched a little. I gave my hoof knife a few more strokes with the file.

“I am going to open this abscess,” I said. “It might be a little painful for Cat. I could sedate her, but then there is a chance that she could fall during the process.”

“What are you going to do, Doc?” Joe asked.

“I am going to try to open the abscess with one stroke of the knife,” I said. “With as painful as this hoof is, I am guessing that there is a large pocket of pus that is under pressure. You might see it fly across the stall when I open it. The first stroke is what is going to be painful, but when that pus escapes, there is going to be instant relief.”

I took the hoof between my knees again and positioned the hoof knife just in front of the small crack. I turned my head a little to get anything in my face. Then, with one decisive stroke, I dug a channel into the sole of the hoof.

There was a loud hiss, and puss flew to the back wall of the stall. The relief was instantaneous, and Cat didn’t have time to react to the pain of the stroke.

I released Cat’s hoof, and she sat it on the ground. 

“Oh my,” Wendy said. “That looks like an instant fix. I have never seen anything like that in my life. She must have been in so much pain.”

“We still have things to go,” I said. “I have to open the abscess a little better, and I will put a wrap on that foot for a couple of days. That, along with some antibiotics, should make things feel better fast. Oh, and we don’t want to forget a tetanus booster.”

“I had a guy telling me the other day that you give both a tetanus booster and a dose of tetanus antitoxin after an injury,” Joe said.

“The reason we vaccinate horses with tetanus every year is so we don’t have to use antitoxin after an injury,” I said. “I saw a horse die from a reaction to the antitoxin. Another veterinarian had given it. It happened a few years ago and was an unpleasant experience I will never forget.

“I don’t know what antibiotic you want to use, but I just bought a new bottle of Combiotic at the feed store,” Joe said.

“That will work fine, Joe,” I said. “I will give her a dose tonight, and then you can repeat it starting tomorrow. Give twenty ccs once a day. Give it ten ccs per injection site, probably easiest on the side of her neck.”

I finished opening the abscess and flushed it out. Then, I packed it with Betadine ointment and placed a wrap on the hoof.

“I will be back in two days to check this hoof,” I said as I gave the tetanus and Combiotic injections. “You call if Cat is not setting the foot down. I expect this to heal with no problems. And Wendy, it was good for you to call this evening.”

“I knew you would be busy with your young family, and I hated to call,” Wendy said. “But I can’t thank you enough for the work. And looking at Cat standing on her foot, I am sure she thanks you too.”

***

When I checked in on Cat two days later, she walked almost normally. Just a very slight limp was evident, something I doubt that Wendy could detect.

I removed the wrap, and the sole abscess appeared to be beginning to heal.

“If we do nothing at this point, this will heal fine,” I said as I let Cat’s hoof fall back to the ground. 

“I have a set of hoof boots if that would help,” Wendy said. “I have used them before, and Cat tolerates them fine.

“Those would be great for the next week or so,” I said. “I am going to consider Cat healed unless I hear from you. Leave her front hooves in boots for the next week and then look at that hole in her sole. I should be starting to fill in nicely by then. If you have any questions, give me a call.

***

Cat healed well and was on the track the following summer. As usual, Wendy found that other horses were also fast. Cat ran well but came home with no prize money.

Photo Credit – Luis Negron on Pexels