I Love My Blind Gimpy Mule

Last November, while riding Maxine through a dark parking lot after a show, I noticed something odd. As I asked her to walk behind my trailer, into a shadow, she became skittish. Try as I might, I couldn't convince her to ride into the darkness.

Frustrated, I dismounted and led her into the abyss. She was fine as long as I held her, but as soon as I moved away to put something in the trailer, she would nervously retreat to the barn.

"What's she scared of," asked Travis.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "She's probably faking it."

Personal observation: Maxine is a smart girl with a knack for tossing in an occasional stumble during lessons in an attempt to get out of work, or she'll throw out a shoulder in order to pick up her preferred lead at the lope, even if it's not the one I asked for. Needless to say, I wouldn't put it past her to fake a mood to get back to her hay-filled stall as quickly as possible.

This past February, I was once again faced with untacking in the dark after a show. As we rode out to the trailer, Max refused to continue into the darkness without me on the ground by her side.

Later that evening, I mentioned it to my trainer as we were rehashing our day. Without hesitation, her mom suggested that I have her eyes checked--just in case. Knowing that she has a sixth sense when it comes to equine behavior, I made a mental note to call the vet.

Back home, time passed quickly, as it so often does. I still intended to call the vet, but it had not yet made it to the top of my priority list.

Then, as I was untacking after a lesson, I noticed that Maxine was shying away from the tack room of the trailer. Each time I'd pull her close to the door so I could remove her bridle, she'd quickly, but gently, pull away. It was a bright day, making the tack room seem dark and ominous--much like the shadows a the last two shows.

As I did my best to convince her that she was safe, I looked closely at her left eye and noticed silvery strands through the middle of her pupil. Needless to say, I called the vet right away, despite the fact that by this time I had a good idea of the prognosis.

This Friday, the vet confirmed my assumption--Maxine has cataracts. While they have started in both eyes, the one in her left eye is farther along and has begun to affect her sight. According to the vet, it's like she's looking through a windshield that's has a rock thrown through it--some spots are normal, while others are restricted. Fortunately, she can still see and, according to the vet, should have limited sight for years. However, it's likely she'll eventually go blind in one or both eyes, should she live long enough.

While the prognosis isn't ideal, and there's no solution other than prevention, I'm glad to know what I'm dealing with. I know she definitely needs reassurance, not discipline, when faced with dark areas. My trainer will help me teach her cues that will assist her as she slowly looses her sight. And, it's likely that the pain she's had thus far, if any, has been managed by the daily dose of Bute she receives to manage her ringbone, which she was diagnosed with last year. That's right, I have a blind, gimpy mule.

Through this, I've been comforted by an old memory. As a kid, my mom took me to ride horses on the beach in Bandon, Oregon. One of their best horses was totally blind, yet she could safely take a beginners because she trusted her rider. I have a feeling that like that blind horse, Maxine will continue to be fantastic--with or without sight. I eagerly look forward to our continued adventures together.

Photo: Maxine braves the waves at the beach. She wasn't gone in the water yet, but on our last trip she got within a foot of the incoming waves.