Real life | 17 May 2018

Laminitis is a lot like alcoholism. Once you cross the line you can’t go back.

‘My name’s Gracie and I’m a grassoholic,’ is what the skewbald pony should be saying at least three times a week to other grassoholics like herself. She hit rock bottom a few months ago at the start of the spring and has been in recovery ever since.

But I’m not hopeful this latest period of abstemiousness will last unless she makes a sincere decision to change.

In truth, she has been bumping along the bottom for years, bingeing and then swearing off. Every spring I think it will be different. I put a tape across the field and make sure the amount of sugary grass she has access to is limited. But every spring she somehow manages to confound all attempts to save her from herself.

I think addicts are like this. They are hard-wired to self-destruct no matter how much their loved ones beg them to desist.