My Adventures with Flunixin for the Horses
Alright, let’s talk about flunixin and horses. Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with that stuff. It’s one of those things you always see in the vet’s truck, and you kinda hope you won’t need it too often, but when your horse is hurting, you’re mighty glad it exists. My journey with it wasn’t exactly planned, more like a baptism by fire, you could say.
The Day My Stomach Dropped
I remember it like it was yesterday. My old mare, Bess, a usually stoic, seen-it-all type. I went out to the barn one morning, and she was just… off. Not herself. Sweating, even though it wasn’t hot. Kept looking at her flank, trying to kick her belly. My heart just slammed into my boots. Colic. Every horse owner’s nightmare, right? You go from calm to Code Red in about ten seconds flat.
I got on the phone to my vet, Dr. Evans, pronto. He’s a good ol’ boy, knows his stuff, doesn’t panic. But waiting for him to arrive felt like an eternity. Bess was getting more agitated, and I was trying to keep her walking, keep myself from completely freaking out. It’s a helpless feeling, watching your animal suffer and just waiting.
The Vet Visit and the Little Brown Bottle
Dr. Evans finally rolled up, took one look at Bess, and got to work. Listened to her gut – not much going on there, which isn’t good. After a thorough check, he said it looked like a mild impaction, but she was definitely in a lot of pain. That’s when he reached into his kit and pulled out the flunixin. He explained it wouldn’t fix the blockage itself, but it would knock down the pain and inflammation, make her more comfortable, and give the other treatments a chance to work. Pain can make colic worse, you see, slows everything down even more.
My Turn with the Needle
Now, I’m not squeamish about needles, usually. I’ve given plenty of vaccines. But giving a shot to your own horse when she’s already miserable and you’re stressed to the max? That’s a whole different kettle of fish. Dr. Evans drew up the dose. He told me, “This is something good for you to know how to manage, for emergencies, if I can’t get here instantly.” He showed me the right spot, intramuscular. I took a deep breath, talked to Bess, and just did it. My hand probably wasn’t the steadiest it’s ever been, but it went in. Bess barely flinched, poor girl was too focused on her aching gut.
- Double-checked the dosage with Dr. Evans. You don’t mess around with that.
- Made sure it was the right route – IM, as he said. Some forms are IV, and you don’t mix those up.
- Watched her like a hawk afterwards, for any weird reactions.
The Slow Road to Relief
Dr. Evans also tubed her with some oil and electrolytes, but he said the flunixin would be the first thing to give her some relief. And boy, was he right. It wasn’t instant, not like flipping a switch. But maybe an hour later, I saw her stop trying to go down. The frantic kicking eased off. Her breathing got a bit calmer. The relief flooding through me was immense. It meant she was feeling better, and it bought us time. Over the next few hours, with walking and the oil doing its job, she started to pass manure. Best sound in the world at that moment, let me tell you.
What I Took Away From It All
That whole episode, as awful as it was, taught me a lot. Flunixin isn’t some magic potion you just chuck at any problem. And it’s definitely not something to use to mask a serious issue that needs surgery or a different specific treatment. That’s just asking for bigger trouble. But under vet guidance? For specific situations like that colic episode, or a sudden high fever, or serious muscle soreness after an unexpected strain (again, vet diagnosed!), it’s a powerful tool. I learned to always, ALWAYS get the vet’s diagnosis first. Don’t play doctor. And be aware of the potential downsides – stomach ulcers are a big one if you use it too much or for too long. So yeah, I keep it in my emergency kit now, but I treat it with a whole lot of respect. It’s for making them comfortable when they really need it, while you and the vet figure out the root cause. That’s my story with it, anyway. Straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, or at least from the worried owner standing next to it.
