palace of winds

Yesterday was vet day. (And for some reason some old lyrics just popped into my head, something about the cries of the carrots, something about Tomorrow is the harvest and to them it is the Holocaust. But it wasn’t as bad as all that.)

Everett had his wolf tooth out. It’s heartbreaking, this dental work. After they tranquilized him he was so wobbly, standing all contorted with such sleepy, distressed eyes. They rinsed out his mouth and when they hoisted his head one hoof slipped in the water and he lurched violently aside, and though the vet was nonchalant it looked to me like he very nearly went down.

I didn’t get a good look at the head of the instrument they used to chip out his tooth, but from the handle it looked for all the world like a screwdriver. The vet hit it with his fist, not quite a whack but not exactly a tap, until he was finally able to reach in and pull out the tooth, wreathed in blood.

I brought him back to a spare stall to doze off the tranq, the vet tech holding his tail to help him balance. I led him in and he stopped there with his head nearly touching the back corner. I slid off his halter and was going to leave him there for his own quiet time, but when I went to the door he lurched around, moving faster than I thought possible, and pressed his face into my chest. We stood like that I don’t know how long, maybe half an hour, me leaning in the doorway with his head buried against me. I stroked his cheek, his neck damp with nervous sweat, combed my fingers through his mane. His watering eye left a damp patch on my vest and every few minutes a bit of blood would fall from his mouth, leaving little patches of bright red in the shavings by my feet. When I went home it looked like I was early for Halloween, blood smeared down one sleeve, along the edge of my hood, one spot on my left boot.

I hope I never have to do that to him again.