Yes, that's right. In my 25 years, all told, of horse ownership, I have never yet had a case of colic. Until Miss Bridget decided to break my streak.
I put her dinner out, and she came over and sat down beside it. This - I said to myself - cannot be a good sign. I went in, and she rubbed her head on me, and waggled her neck from side to side, and then rolled, but didn't get up.
That's it. I'm getting the halter. I put it on, make her get up, and call the vet. I describe her symptoms, which include the classic looking-back-at-the-belly. There follows 40 minutes of walking her around in the rain while waiting for the vet to arrive. (Yay! Finally, rain!) Thankfully she passes normal-looking manure a couple of times.
The other horses are getting progressively more and more disturbed, so I take Bridget out the gate, whereupon pandemonium ensues back in the pasture. Chloe is prancing around in passage, Rose is stomping and leaping and bucking and kicking, and George is galloping flat out all over the place - all unprecedented behaviors. What the heck? Is it the rain? Are they weirded out by my anxious behavior? Whatever it is, it's plumb loco.
The vet arrives. Lest I think that I have this lovely Peaceful New Way of Being With Horses down pat, let me be reminded that I DO NOT! Bridget does not want her banamine shot. She kicks at the vet. The vet gets tough. She gets her shot. I am apologizing to the vet, the vet is apologizing to me, we're both apologizing to Bridget. Bridget is not apologizing to us, but is very forgiving and accepts horse treats from the dear vet, who spends ages before he leaves, sweet-talking Bridget and trying to make amends.
It is only "gas colic." Bridget is not the world's most stoic horse. She is a sensitive child and obviously feels things more than some other horses do. She is allowed to have more dinner, mixed with water. The other horses come back to planet Earth. omg.