Linda commented that a door has shut and that struck me as so accurate. Isn't that what life is like? Doors closing, doors opening, windows letting in light or banging in the wind...
I'm focused on giving Jackson the best possible life, for however long that ends up being. I'm not sure that he will come out of the next acute flare up of his laminitis. So, I could confine him to his stall limiting the weight he puts on his feet and I could just feed him grass hay. I could force him to be quiet and he might last longer.
But, really, is that a life?
I don't think so. Jackson deserves to live whatever life he has left to the fullest. His remaining time should be full of what brings him happiness; not what gives him the most time (which is a selfish motive focused on me, not him). Life in a stall is not a life. At least, it isn't for Jackson. He will out of necessity still spend most of his time there, because his feet get sore so quickly, but he will get out every day. That's my promise to Jackson.
In the mornings he will get one carrot and a small handful of sweet feed with his vitamins.
He is social, so he will go out in the pastures in the morning while I muck. He can stand in the sun and visit with Kalvin while Flash and Winston are in the barn eating their morning supplements. And as often as is possible, he will eat his breakfast with the herd.
His days of doing this may be over...
But, his days are not over.
As long as his eyes sparkle with welcome when he sees me,
as long as he nuzzles me for attention,
and as long as he wants to live,