Chapter 6

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On the morning of Friday, May 12, 2000, I got a phone call from the barn. “There are two heads poking over Kelly’s door this morning!”

Ha! I’d been right to pooh-pooh the warnings.

But I found a little brown colt with swollen eyes and hocks and shoulders, whose dam kicked him every time he tried to suckle. Here was no idyllic scene to drool over. I had to separate the pitiful foal from his rotten mother and call the vet.

She discovered a uterine infection in the mare which she addressed immediately. Untreated it would have meant the end for Kelly.

As a result, the colt needed a plasma transfusion. After being the meanie who’d taken him from his mom, I now sat on his neck, forcing him to lie down and have a needle stuck into his veins. He was nevergoing to like me! I cried as I straddled the thin little body covered in feathery pony hair inherited from his sire, a half Welsh Cob.