How I discovered Buddy has metabolic syndrome

Buddy had an appointment with the vet yesterday. He was supposed to come sometime between 12 and 4 p.m., so I went to the farm and worked around while I was waiting. I spent most of the day digging up those damnable burdock weeds that are growing in the pasture.

The vet never came, so I checked my messages and found out that he had several emergency calls, so I had to reschedule. That sort of thing happens, no big deal. I’m just thankful that I didn’t have an emergency. I hate horse emergencies.

Buddy and Utah were going to get their spring shots, and I was going to have him check up on how Buddy is doing.

Last fall the vet did blood work and we decided that Buddy has metabolic syndrome. Even the vets don’t know much about this condition yet, and it’s definitely beyond me. But here’s how I understand it: it’s sort of equivalent to a human becoming diabetic. His system isn’t getting the glucose from his food into his cells properly. Instead, he is storing the sugar he eats on his body in weird fat deposits here and there. The condition is also linked to problems with his feet, including a tendency toward laminitis.

Practically speaking, this means my horse cannot eat grass. Completely counterintuitive, right? Horses are supposed to eat grass! Well, Buddy has to wear a grazing muzzle when he’s out, in order to limit his grass intake. He can eat hay, and the vet suggested a specific kind of feed that provides for Buddy’s complete nutritional needs while being a low sugar/carb feed. Plus he gets a supplement that contains magnesium, which seems to help for some reason.

It took me a long time to figure out what was going on.

He started to develop a cresty neck–just a little extra thickness on top. It started very slowly. His crest got very hard, he developed puffiness over his eyes, he became reluctant to pick up his feet, and he seemed to become a rather big guy. None of these things would have meant anything to me, until he started to walk very stiff-legged on his front legs. That’s when I finally put all of these symptoms together–he wasn’t cresty because he was a handsome guy, he wasn’t just muscled-up, he wasn’t just being stubborn about his feet. His feet hurt him. He was accumulating weird, kind of hard fat pads on his shoulders and butt. And he was walking like a stove-up old man.

Last September the vet checked Buddy out and pulled some blood. He said he probably has arthritis (he’s 18 years old.) Because of his high sugar levels, the vet said he is probably metabolic syndrome–sometimes called IR (insulin resistant) and sometimes called pre-Cushings.

It was hard for me to see because it happened so gradually, but the stiffness in walking was what really got my attention (finally.) I feel like a horrible horse owner because I didn’t realize what was happening. But I’m not! And I’m writing about it in some detail here so if anyone recognizes anything similar in your horse you will have the benefit of my experience.

The benevolent leader

It’s interesting to watch how horses communicate with each other. There is a definite hierarchy to any herd. The higher ups dictate to those below them in the pecking order. The body language is often subtle, but obviously clear to the horses.

Buddy’s first companion, Laddie, was a bully. He used to chase Buddy off the piles of hay, repeatedly, just to be mean. But Utah is a benevolent leader. He chooses which pile of hay is his, but he leaves Buddy alone with the other pile. Sometimes–if Utah feels like it–both horses eat off the same pile.

If Utah decides he wants something, he gets it; if Buddy is in his way, he moves him. He does it with an eyeball. He has a look that clearly says get out of my way. But he’s good-humored about it. He’s got this confident air about him, as if he just goes where he’s going and assumes that anyone else will get out of his way. Of course.

They are a goofy pair. When I open the barn door so they can come in and get in their stalls, Buddy usually comes in first: is there food? Invariably he walks into Utah’s stall first, just to check if he left any food in his manger the last time. Then Utah comes in and, without hesitating, saunters into the same stall. I don’t know how they manage it, but there’s Utah going in and Buddy going out the same door at the same time. They are as calm as can be, going through the steps of their routine.

Sometimes they play Chinese fire drill. After they finish their supper and I open the stall doors again, they switch places.

My favorite though is when Utah moves Buddy in the pasture and you can’t see anything at all. His body language is so subtle and Buddy is so in-tune with it that all you can see is them starting, turning, and stopping in synchronized motion. It’s a communication that horsepeople are constantly striving after and so rarely master.