A few days ago, I blogged about the various transgressions of my boss.
When I mentioned that I was thinking about moving Shorty, and told him about the heaves diagnosis, he freaked out. I half expected it, to the point where I was ready to move that day if needed. He's done that before, and it isn't pretty.
I my surprise, he freaked out in a good way. He wants to fix up the run-in shed on the property for Shorty and put one of his horses with him. We've been trying horses out to see which would get along with Shorty. He didn't like Annie the pony, Oliver is too old to go out in the cold (he's thirty three), and the other pony, Bubba, is an escape artist. I haven't put Shorty out with his special lady friend, Tilly, but we will try it tomorrow.
It would take work, but there's a possibility that we can turn the shed into a cool place for Shorty and a turnout buddy to enjoy the outdoor life with a dry, but well-ventilated shelter. I already own two electric water buckets and wouldn't mind buying a blanket for Shorty's turnout buddy for the really chilly days.
Ultimately, I will do what is best for my horse. If I suspect that the wool is being pulled over my eyes, I will not hesitate to move Shorty. On the other hand, it is convenient to keep my horse where I teach, so I'm willing to give it a shot.