Mac has been improving, but improvement has been accompanied by more energetic resistance to his bad-tasting medicine. For those without horses, it comes as a pasty white stuff in a fat plastic syringe with a plunger that has a sort of serrated handle and a little collar that you can set for the dose. Each one will provide several days' worth of doses. This is an advantage over the days when you had to try to pill the horse by hiding the pill in something, or pounding it to bits that you tried to hide in something. The paste in the syringe is a lot easier to get into the horse, for the most part. But the stuff still tastes awful, and it's no wonder horses don't like it. (In my imagination, I design the perfect medicine vector for horses: it tastes good, it's absorbed through the oral membranes, and it melts on the horse's tongue but not on the owner's, or vet's, fingers.)
This evening, Richard went out to give Mac his medicine; in the morning, Mac had evaded the first attempt to catch him and veered away at a pretty good walk. But now--Mac trotted away, head up, around the little pen he's been in. Trotted!
We anticipate more problems, though, with subsequent doses. Would it have killed them to put in some molasses?