Nostalgia

A few years ago, before I had my surgery on my leg, Mother was teaching me how to carry her around. After our initial abortive attempt,  I realized it was not such a bad idea. It made her so happy, and it really wasn't that hard of work.

 Although she is pushing her maximum density in these pictures. By the time she was less dense, I no longer was asked to carry her. Well, last year we did our little mini rides 7 or 8 times. But that doesn't really count.

So the other horses she now rides get the benefit of her minimalization, and not me. That doesn't seem fair. But since I didn't know better at the time, I just made the best of the situation.

These pictures were taking shortly before she went away for quite some time. Aunt Margie made sure I got brought in and fed and cleaned and everything during that time. As you can see, I already had her number. I knew which pocket was the cookie pocket.

Mother announced one cold spring day that she was going away for a while. She brought me in from the field, led me up to the mounting block at the back of the barn, and before I knew it, she was sitting on me.

Just her. No saddle... it felt quite strange. When I started walking it felt stranger still.

There was lots of strange things about that. She didn't have a helmet, I didn't have a bridle... I had less than 15 rides. Another human looked at her asked if she had gone crazy. She said, "Well if he kills me, I don't have to go to ****, now do I?" She just rode me to the front of the barn. It wasn't so bad.

She started riding me without a saddle a lot more, usually just down to where I would hand graze, and again on the way back up to the barn. It was strangely comforting, being ridden without a saddle. It reminded me of something, but I can't quite put a hoof on it...

Olaf C. Seltzer - Stolen Horses                                     .

Anyway, those days are long gone. Now I don't have to do any work for my cookies.

Life is good.




**** Somewhere hot and desert-y and far, far away.

Home by Dark, Part 2

Missed Part 1? Click here.

Learning how to jump made me feel special. Three mornings a week for First Ride, Her would come to ride me. Her first made sure I would move promptly off her leg, and promptly from a cluck.

The first week I learned to go over a single pole on the ground and then a series of poles, and in between standards and all other sorts of things. One day she made the pole on the ground into two poles that were low in the middle and high at the ends, which Her called a crossrail. My first few attempts at the crossed rails involved my bumping them with front and back legs. It was high enough I knew I should do more than step over it, but low enough I could step over if I needed to. Those rails were heavy and wood and they stung a little, so I learned by the third time through to not bump them. Her told me how good I was, and we stopped for the day.

One of the nice things about learning to jump was I didn't get ridden very long. A lot of times I wanted to keep jumping things and learning, and Her would just tell me how good I'd been and put me away. I admit, I came to like those three mornings a week. Before long, I was cantering to the fences, and then stringing a few together, and it was all fun; except the combination, which I didn't understand and needed more time to think so I took really little strides and put about 5 strides in. Her had Funny Nice Girl ride me the next time, and I was able to understand how combinations worked. Oh, two strides, that's easy. Oh, and I had learned that some jumps will be wider, and how to recognize that; that some jumps have rails that look funny-shaped or are at angles or whatever, but they are all really just a jump and that's easy.

Funny Nice Girl really, really liked jumping me. She told Her that I was so much fun and she thought I really liked my job. Well, yeah, jumping is a lot more fun than carrying beginners around! Her had taught me to figure out how to jump, and to balance myself, and to go at the pace and direction told; if there was a jump in the way, we just went over it and continued on with what we were doing.

I started getting used for the jump practices in the morning, one day a week. It was more work than what Her had had me do, but the riders were Constants and kind and we had lots of fun. That summer I went to He Who is in Charge's home barn and I went to lots of shows, some with little people and some with a Constant.

I spent a lot of time over the next years at He Who is in Charge's barn instead of always at School, and eventually I stopped going to School at all. Her stopped being a Constant, but I would still see her from time to time and I was always glad to see her. She gave me treats and tail circle massages, which are the best.

There are so many reasons it's good to be here. I get turned out all day with my friends (or all night in the summer) and we always have grass and we only do two or three lessons a week instead of a day like I did back at School.

 So I'm a little muddy. You have a problem with that??

Her has been around a lot more in the last few months, and sometimes she gets me out to just brush me off and give me a massage, or lead me out to eat the good grass in front of the barn. Her was going to ride me in one of the little shows this summer, but I was sore that day when I got into the sand ring (I warmed up fine in the firmer footing of the other ring) so she rode Jack instead.

 Not my usual game-face.

Jack ~ Show off. But I still got cookies, and I didn't have to work.

I'm only sore every once in a while... I still give lessons and jump some, although I admit I feel a little bit stiffer than I used to. My one front leg was cut badly a few years ago, and it is stiffer than any other part of me. I am still the very best horse for jumping without stirrups though, so I am way better than all those tall, silly thoroughbreds.

The other night Her was talking with Little Girl Big, who used to ride me when she was little, although she is not little anymore. Little Girl Big was saying how much she liked me, and that her very first show was on me and she won a championship her first division out. Well, yeah, that's what I do. Little humans seem to like the blue ribbons best, and they really  like the long ribbons. It's good for them to get those long ribbons, because they'll give you even more treats!  And horse shows are so easy: Rider hops aboard, I make sure they know enough to make me go, and then they just tell me how fast we're going and where to go. I love it when there are jumps in the path they pick.

Easy~Peasy.

Home by Dark, Part 1

Mother says I should let him tell his story. Sigh ~ Boyfriend

JONES

I remember being really little, and I had a big mare that I loved and she fed me. But then we were separated. I don't remember much after that until I was two and went to The Auction.

The Auction was really scary. There were horses there that were very sad and unhappy and it was awful. And the loudness and all the people? Awful. When I left the ring, I was put back in a pen, then led away by He Who is in Charge to a trailer, and that is when my story really began.

I went to a strange barn and then off to Camp. I learned to carry people around. They were mostly really little people.

Then I went to a big place, "School", with dozens of other horses and we stood in our stalls all week except when we were ridden, and we went out to the fields on the weekend. Sometimes there were long periods when we went to farther away fields and were left alone except to make sure we had water, and hay if it was winter. Those were fun times... Then every summer again I went to Camp and carried the little people.

I was named after a student, and I am not 100% sure that it was an exemplary title. Being young and everything, I was... uh, a little bit spoiled when I was first at School; I would nip at people. It was just an occasional (OK, constant) nip to entertain myself, or show my irritation, or... well, who really needs a reason?

A few times a year there were strange weekends where we didn't get to go out to the fields except for the last night of the weekend, but instead stood around with saddles on and went in the ring many times with strange riders. During these weekends, I would bite the person holding me a lot, because I would rather be out in the field, you know? Most of the horses' holders would hold them all day, but I would get passed from person to person. I bit them all.

I only vaguely remember the first time I met "Her". There were many students and they mostly just blurred together. This was early on for me at the school, though, and I remember an evening at the start of School as she walked around being introduced to all the horses and told a bit about each one by another student. She seemed to like me, and commented on my attractive dorsal stripe and zebra marks.

I first really noticed Her because she bit me on my nose. I mean right on my soft, delicate nostril. Sure, I had just nipped her, but OUCH! Every time I tried to nip Her, she would chomp down on one of my nostrils. I quickly realized that biting was overrated.

Her started working in the mornings at the School, and she seemed to take a special interest in me. How nice. Many times I would hear, "Jones- incoming!" This was my cue to turn my head to the side so she could hurl her apple missile into the feeder at the front of my tie stall. Her thought a horse that was nippy shouldn't be hand fed treats. Sometimes she walked in and placed it in my feeder, but we both rather enjoyed the missile game.

My life at School was pretty boring the first 2 years. Lots of people that didn't know what to do or how to ride would ride me and the other horses. It was a constant rotation, although sometimes I would get a larger boy and he would be assigned to me several times. As the weeks went on, the riders would figure things out. Then, one day, it would start all over again with new riders who didn't know what they were doing... sigh.

There were certain people we always saw, well for a few years, anyway, the "constants". These constants usually rode much better, and they often seemed to have favorite horses. I was no one's favorite for a long time, although Her seemed a bit fond of me.

One weekend out in the fields, I was in a bit of a miscommunication debacle with one of the mares. I had to jump over the water trough from a standstill to keep from getting the daylights kicked out of me. One of the constants was down at the fields at the time. Apparently, she told He Who is in Charge about what I did, because Her started working with me a few weeks later, teaching me to jump.

It was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Mixed Blessings

You may have noticed that some of my recent posts have not been current events in my life. That is because, well, Mother is a worrywart. She has been having trouble determining if I am not doing as well, comfort-wise, as she wants. Then last week as we walked my postal route, she noted that I was walking a bit shorter on one of my hind legs. The non-surgered leg, to be precise.

I admit I have been reluctant about certain activities, like walking the hills of the postal route. I apparently seem "grumpier than usual" at times to Mother. That is a lack of Mrs. Pastures cookies, Mother. All those other cookies (while tasty and delectable and I appreciated them) for months and months has caused a "Mrs. Pastures cookies' deficiency". Grumpiness is a manifestation.

MPCD is not a condition to take lightly.

In trying to determine a cause, Mother has fine toothed all the aspects of my care. She had changed my joint and comfort supplements from SmartPak to something else from SmartPak that was supposed to replace the Repair and TLC, and even added some other other joint things. She is going to switch back to exactly what I was on earlier this year. She isn't sure if it is the change of supplements (as I've been switched for about two and a half months), but she would be very happy if this proves to be the reason.

Not content to concentrate on one reason at a time, she worries that it is perhaps an indication that my degenerative cartilage is in fact bilateral as many of those things can be, and the right side just wasn't as bad as the left (so not visible on xray) at the time of surgery. I did have arthritic changes in my left hock when xrays were taken in 2009. When I had my left stifle surgery, the hospital shot fresh films of both stifles, showing nothing on the right stifle at that time. They didn't take hock pictures, so it's possible I have arthritis on the right as well as the left, or crummy cartilage in the right stifle, or whatever else her diseased brain can come up with to worry about.

In her concern for me, a few weeks ago Mother had given up the grand experiment and had the farrier out to do my hoovies. He reassured her that she had done me no harm, and he had seen worse work by professionals. My balances weren't exactly how he had kept them, but the adjustments he made were not much and I felt fine afterwards. No improvement in my "grumpy" attitude, so that is one possible reason that she has dismissed.

The results of her neurosis as I see them:
I still putter about the pasture.
I still putter about (supervised) on the lawn.

Proposed changes:
Will continue having the farrier man do my hooves now.
Will go back to my previous supplements and see if it helps.
Mother will not ride me for my once or twice monthly 5 minute jaunts anymore.
No more postal route, due to the hills.
Possibly add Adequan in addition to the supplement routine.

Gosh, walk three or four inches shorter on one side and you'd think the world is ending! Cookies will fix it, they fix everything.

Which reminds me of the most important change: Mother has bought me a nice big bag of Mrs.Pastures again, just today! Since I've been staying svelte and I eat my IR powder and I have shown no signs of trouble since "the incident", she says I can have ONE Mrs. Pastures from time to time now.

RAPTURE!

Cookies!.. er, um, cookie... YUMMM!!!!

Alien Abductions? What are you doing up there?

So there are some things about this whole riding business that I just don't understand.

The biggest question, WHY?, is too profound for a simple horse like me to understand. I know Mother is not the only human that does this to horses, and I know some horses who even thought it was fun, so I'm not going to really delve into that question.

The thing I want to know is, what are you doing up there when it feels like the aliens are abducting you? We'll be walking along, and suddenly, Mother is just gone from my back. But her weight is still there... sort of. Super duper creepy. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but the weight on my back feels different, and I just don't understand what is going on up there.

Then sometimes when that happens she is suddenly much farther forward, like she is leaning over my neck. I really don't like that when we go under trees, but she does it anyway. This weekend she did that and the tree branches whacked her twice and I started to Get Out of Dodge, but she sat up and said to stop and all was normal again. I wouldn't freak out Mother, if you would only stay where you are supposed to be. But how do I know tree aliens haven't grabbed you? And if they grabbed you, guess who's next? ME!

And I remember a long time ago, when I used to trot and stuff, sometimes she would rise up and down as I strode along. The first time that happened, I was very worried. Mother made me walk and rose up and down to my walk stride, which while creepy, whatever. Then she did the same thing again at trot, and it wasn't nearly as alarming. It was actually sort of fun. Leg swing, Mother swing, leg swing, Mother swing, leg swing, Mother swing, leg swing...

Where was I again?


We don't really trot anymore. Mother started riding me again last fall, and she usually hops on for 7 or 8 minutes a couple times a month. I guess it makes her happy, and I won't really complain. My leg doesn't really bother me any more after she's ridden me than it does on a normal day.

But could she please just sit down and stay there? Please?

Chinese Water Torture

Picture, if you will, a beautiful summer day... a lovely soft breeze, gentle sun through the cloud breaks, low humidity and 76 degrees. The gentle sound of dripping water is a soporific counterpoint to the low hummmmm of the clippers as Mother trims up my lower legs...

The dripping water? That's drool. Lots of drool. Quarts, even. Puddling on the brickwork of the porch, well, what I didn't splatter onto the railing first. But it does add to the spa effect.

Mother grumbled today that I have gone from being embarrassed by my malady to strategic... just because I like to release it on the lead rope, reins, or Mother when possible.

Teehehheee. A horse has to have a little fun, after all. And what's a little drool among friends?

Mother brushed me, lunged me really briefly, tacked me (shudder) and then lunged me for about two circles again before affixing the bridle and hopping aboard. I was very fussy with the bit, mostly because it is impossible to keep a good seal to keep all that drool from coming out... when I did manage, Mother would seemingly insist on a turn that caused my mouth to open and more saliva to gush everywhere. Like my legs. Ewwww!

After our ride, she threatened bathing, since I slept on the warm pillow last night... actually, the whole mattress was warm pillow. Mother was not pleased at all. She decided, however, to let me remain unbathed as the day was chillier than it has been... the upper 80s will be here again soon enough.

So instead she clipped the bridle path, my legs, and fed me my suppies dinner a little earlier than usual. Of course the aunts had cleaned the run-in while Mother and I were busy... I prefer they do it in the morning, because it can take all day to get my mattress just right.

Guess I better get to work.

sigh

Revolting!

Something must be done. I need a plan. Mother is taking me for granted, and I have decided this can not be tolerated any longer.

Why would I make such a statement?

Mother abandoned me all work week long. She skipped in, la ti da, for about 15 minutes early on Friday evening, and flung my dinner in at me in the small. She couldn't even spare the time to take me in the barn and allow me to dine in peace in the feeding stall?? (Although it was fun dinner entertainment watching her cow cut  back and forth the whole time to keep Belle out of the run in while I ate.)

Saturday, she didn't even come up at all. She was off caring for my old buddy Sonney, who is now living some ways away. Like that is an excuse?  You could have come out earlier in the day, Mother.

sniff

sniff

And then this evening, she comes waltzing in smelling of dust and strange horses (with a brief hint of Haflinger) and saddles and happiness. Worse, she was on her flippy phone the entire time she brought me in, fly sprayed me, picked my feet, brushed me, rasped a chip in my hoof, shellacked me with more fly spray, coated my head with Gnatural Gcream, made my dinner, and turned me back out. Even my goodbye kiss and Herballs were dispensed while her busy little mind and busier mouth were running on with that phone and not me!

Apparently, she went to a show and rode around jumping over things and whatnot. She stopped at another place and visited with the Haflinger that she has apparently been riding. I'm always the last to know.

And she gave a whole bunch of my Herballs away to other horses!  My Herballs!

Is that really what you want, Mother? Is it really just all about you and riding and jumping and stuff? About what horses can do for you?

What about me? I am still here, you know...

Some Holiday

Mother came to the barn yesterday afternoon, hosed me off (I was a little sweaty, I admit), fed me my suppies, and bolted for the hills. No cookies. Ah, well, whatever. At least I got my dinner.

She returned later in the evening with Aunt Margie. She smelled of other horses. Hrrmmmph. She tacked me up, and off we went to the multipurpose. She clambered aboard, and we walked into the good grass pasture. Mother makes fun of me because I don't like walking out through the gap, but I slid the first time we went through that earlier this year. It could happen again. A horse needs to keep his feet, so excuse me if I'm a little cautious.

We walked around to the back fence, and there were occasional loud booms that sound sort of like guns but not quite. They have been going off at times for days now ... what are the humans hunting? Whatever it is they are shooting at, there are either a lot of them to catch or those hunters are really bad shots. I flinched at a really loud one, but Mother seemed unconcerned so I figured they weren't shooting in our direction.

(I must say, later that evening, the hunters must have come upon a whole flotilla/herd/flock/murder/pod of whatever it was they were hunting, because there were shots for 40 minutes straight at one point, and lots of intermittent ones, too. Humans are strange.)

Oh, so anyway, on the way back across the field, Mother started saying "Hi, Dear!" Well, d'uh, I'm right here, and you've been on for a few minutes. Why are you saying "hi" now?  Then there was a commotion to the right, and I saw a deer bolt away. I jumped and flinched, but Mother reminded me she was with me and everything was ok. As we walked on, I still stared towards the deer. Mother rose up in her stirrups, probably to resettle herself as she often does, but at the time it freaked me out... was an alien pulling her up off my back and it was going to grab me next?!? I started to get the hell out of there, but Mother sat back down and told me to "WHOA", so I did. She pat me and we walked on, up towards the gap where Aunt Margie was sitting. But she started making an odd sound with the black thing she was holding.

Aunt Margie's black, clicky thing is scary, and I refused to go anywhere near her, even though she put it away. She obviously still has it somewhere. Mother had me walk out over the branch by the garden paddock corner, walked me in the multipurpose a little while, then leapt off (always kind of freaky) and pat me.

See, photographic evidence of the abuse. I don't think all this carting Mother about can be good for my joint... and if I say I don't want to go near Aunt Margie, she shouldn't insist like that...

Oh, well, I did get some cookies out of it, and 5 minutes on the lawn. And it's not like she's on me for that long... I guess I'll hold off calling the authorities a little longer...

Needed: Optometrist

Mother is having trouble seeing, I suspect. This afternoon, I spied her walking into the barn and retrieving my halter.  When she came in through the pasture to our run in shed, I stepped toward her with my pleasant, "ears forward" face. She patted my nose, then threw the lead rope over Belle's neck and put my halter on her. Uh, wrong horse, Mother. She's not even the same color! How could you get that so wrong?!

Mother led Belle away, presumably to the barn porch, but since I can't see out there, for all I know she was grazing her on the lawn. The other red mares of my herd went to the stall overlooking the porch, and Bert was in the other stall (MY STALL!!) that faces the porch.

I was... alone. And no one answered my calls. Apparently, Mother is deaf now, too.



I saw Mother and Belle emerge a little while later. By this point, I was out in the small, rustling up the blades of grass brave enough to poke their heads out of the mud. Mother rode Belle for a few minutes. I didn't even know Belle knew how to do that. There are some things she prefers not to talk about...

So, finally Mother came and got me. I got a good brushing, and she tacked me up and lunged me for a very few minutes. I moved slowly on the lunge, because way back in the day when Mother rode me all the time, if I was quiet and slow on the lunge, I only did a few laps before she decided to climb aboard. I would just as soon get all this work over with, thanks.

We had a pleasant little ride, wandering around in the back pasture and over a tiny fallen tree, then Mother decided she was tired, I guess, because she had me stop and she disembarked. She rides me for less than 5 minutes... maybe she is dying of some sort of energy sapping disease. Hmmm... is there a doctor for that?

The best part was then Mother put me on the lawn, for a good half hour at least. YUMMMMM!! And then I had my dinner. And quite a bit of cookies today. Mother got more of the Withers and Withers cookies for me, which is nice. I was eating so many Herballs my eyes were turning a little greenish.

The question now, though, is do I punish Belle for spending time with Mother? Usually any horse that takes away my time with Mother hears about it later, but Belle is mine, too.. I'm not really sure how to deal with this situation. I suppose it is OK, provided this mis-attention doesn't get out of hand...

Careful what you wish for...

It worked, it worked, it WORKED!! Mother came up to visit me today!

I saw her come up as I was munching my late midday hay out in the multipurpose area with my orangey red mare nearby. Mother went into the barn, and came back out with my halter and lead... and a lunge line and whip. She set the latter two offensive items against the fence, then came in the gate to get me. I did something I very rarely do. Uhhh... I left.

I skittered away before she got near and ran into the run in shed. I mean, that's why they call it a run in shed, right? I always forget that when I do that, though, I am effectively cornered, and Mother may secure me. sigh

Mother lunged me for a few minutes, then took me in the barn and used very dull clippers to hack a bridle path for me in the sproutage (she claims she keeps meaning to change the blades, but just doesn't have time. Hmmpfh.). She then put my bridle on me, led me out to the scary black box thingy, and proceeded to clamber aboard my bare back.

We went nowhere. We walked into the gardening paddock a couple times and around the barnyard. She seemed happy enough, so I humored her. The poor pathetic creature is sometimes so easily amused.

She gave me a good brushing, and dinner (YUM!!) and some Herballs a bit later when she finally left for the night. So it was quite nice, except for that working bit.

What we have to put up with for a few creature comforts...

A most peculiar happening

Something strange happened today. If you had asked me a year and half ago, I wouldn't have thought it out of the ordinary. But now...

Mother took me onto the barn porch, brushed me off, picked my hooves. She then put the saddle on me. Hmmmm... I have had to wear the driving surcingle a lot this last year, but a saddle? She did put one (or six) on me back in the winter, when she was thinking of taking me to Equine Affaire and I would demonstrate what a travois horse would have looked like. She wanted me to get used to having odd articles on me, around me. One evening she put saddle after saddle after pad after saddle on me until it reached ridiculous heights, and her fellow boarders laughed at me. Hmmph.

Well, a saddle is fine, I guess. Perhaps she is going to ground drive me through the stirrups. She had done that a long, long time ago, before she had the surcingle to use.

Mother then fusses with my bridle, putting my bit on it. What....?

She puts the reins over my neck, asks me to lower my head, and holds the bit up to my mouth. I happily oblige. She adjusts it to fit my head (Hey!! Why is it adjusted for someone else?), replaces my halter, and puts the lunge line on and brings her lunge whip. We head out to the multi-purpose paddock (it used to be an arena, but now the footing is nothing like an arena). We commence lunging.

I am good. Bold. A smidge boisterous for a moment at canter, but I haven't had stirrups to bob about my sides in forever. Sound as a dollar bill... sounder. We only lunge for a few minutes in each direction. Mother has never been real big on making me go in small circles.

We head into the small pasture sans line and halter. She places me near the fence and the step stool thing. She said it was better to not ride in the mountain lion paddock, since I haven't really been ridden up at Aunt Marilyn's mountain hideaway, and in case I did remember anything. She places me near the fence and the step stool thing. She clambers onto it. Why is she way up there? Creepy... yet parts of this feel familiar.

She puts her foot in the stirrup, and I remembered what this was all about!

I stood very still. She swung aboard, her left hand slipping a bit because I no longer have mane to grab (and whose fault is that, anyway?). We strolled in the small pasture for a minute, maybe. We walked out into the back and directly over into the multi-purpose. She had me walk into the center of the paddock, and asked me to stop. She then disembarked. Less than three minutes all together, I bet. Well, that was easy!

I sort of remembered what to do as she asked me to turn in the pasture, or any sort of guiding where I went, but that was a long time ago. I relied on my old tried and true method. If in doubt: STOP. She rode me in a saddle last spring, and a few times in early summer, but then realized I was not quite right. She hopped on me bareback once in all of the second half of last summer, and that was the day before I went down for surgery. Really, much more time has passed since I was last ridden than total time I spent learning to be ridden, so I shouldn't be expected to remember that stuff. It was nice to spend all that time with her again today, though. And I got two Mrs. Pastures cookies after I was untacked and brushed down, as well as my normal little itty bitty cookies before she left. Yumm...


I'm not sure why Mother decided to ride me. I know in the winter my surgeon had said if I seem comfortable enough she could, and that I'd probably enjoy having the personal attention of light riding. Mother says she doesn't expect anything, just would like to walk around for five or ten minutes a few days a week, and she could work on her two-point, too, whatever that is. She says she'll keep a really close eye on how comfortable I look.

So, should I limp (just a little) tomorrow, do you think? I mean, she'll give me cookies either way...

Alternate Universe

I had a lot of time while Mother was away to spend daydreaming and thinking on my life. Soak up sun, dream... think about things.

Mother says there are many things I could have done. Now, she says I am only good as a model...

Hmmph.

Well, I think they should at least be interesting models... Like, if an artist wanted a good example of a war horse for a Civil War statue.

Mother thinks I would make a good broodmare model. I resent that.

I think I would be a great headless horseman model.

Oh, wait, the rider is supposed to be the headless one? Scratch that idea.

But in the course of my daydreams this week, I found myself thinking in the human way, WHAT IF...?!

I would have done so many things. I am naturally balanced...

I could have done dressage... you just try to move big and look pretty, right?

But I wouldn't want to always stay in an arena... there's so much to do outside!

Eventing!... can't you just see me galloping up to the fences?

Or endurance... you just try to cover ground at a pace you can maintain forever, right? I was bred for that!

Barrel racing... I'm not sure I see the point of running around in circles just to end up where you started, but I do like to fly...

I think I could do some cow work...

I even would be willing to give William Pendelton's family a nod, and try some three gaited. I've got the mane now, after all. Mother thinks I'm hopeless, but if I had really applied myself, maybe...

Ah, well... they are just day dreams, after all.

When Mother met me in North Dakota, she put her arm over my back and showed me thoughts of us galloping through green fields, jumping over things. I didn't know what they meant, but we looked happy in them; I knew Mother was the human I needed. She told a friend later that it was funny, when she did that with Devlin Pony, he felt happy, and eager to learn... when she did it with me, she felt from me confusion and a sort of emptiness, but peace. I had no other way to tell her about my bad joint, but she understands now I was trying to tell her I couldn't really do those things. But I was always happy to be with her, and I would try.

Mother says the best thing about me is I have always done everything she has asked of me. It's not my fault I can't really do anything with my bad leg. But I was willing to try...

She is the best cookie and care human I could wish for. She still sees ME.

The Runout

Mother ran out on me. She was off cavorting with other horses at a horse show this weekend, while I did NOTHING. Well, I ate hay, and looked for some grass that wasn't too picked over already, which means I got sticktights and other burrs all over me, even though I have no mane or forelock hair. Mother spent quite a few minutes the other day pulling sticktights out of my ears. Owie.

Oh, so anyway, Mother went to a show on Sunday, and rode some horse and got some little bits of colored shiny cloth and seemed awfully happy. She said she was happy to place well when she doesn't get to ride ever. She looked at me kind of funny when she said that... I'm not sure what that's about. Humans are weird sometimes.

And that's not the worst. Apparently, Mother and Aunts Margie, Marion, and Karin are heading off East and will probably see some guy named Earl. They are going to go see the Banker ponies, but Earl may meet up with them and keep them from going. Who is this guy?

Oh, and Mother won't be around to give me my good night cookies for days. Woe is me. She's been gone so much these last few weeks already, saying she has a lot to do at work due to an impending hos(pi)tile takeover. Sigh.

Talk about a runout! Why gallivant across the country when all the beauty you could ever want is right here at home? For that matter, why even go to work?

Humans have such odd priorities.

Trail Riding

I remember the first time Mother and I went on a trail ride.

I had been under saddle a few rides. Actually, it took three or four times just standing with her on me before I was ok with walking. (After my mountain lion experience, we worked with ground driving, and I went for surgery on my face and stayed at Uncle Jeff's for weeks and then came to the barn I live now, and we started the saddle riding thing over again.) She had been trying to teach me things, in the arena, like steering. I didn't see the point of steering, in the arena. Mother started riding me outside the ring, and with things to go around, I figured out what she meant right away.

One day, we started up the trail. I'd been led on it before, and had walked it with Mother on me once or twice up the hill, but we went UP up the hill, down the other side, out of sight of all my friends. I was on high alert. Although Mother was there, she wasn't in front. I was leading the way. And bringing up the rear. Like I said, high alert.

Mother was nice, and always let me remember she was there. She knows when I get nervous, and just remembering that she is there means someone else is looking for predators, too. I've never been eaten or attacked with her around, so I think her judgment is pretty good.

At one point, a horrible swishing and skittering occurred, and something small and sinister scuttled in front of me and crashed to the side. I leapt forward, but Mother reminded me with the reins that she was there and that there was no reason to panic. In retrospect, that squirrel was just afraid and trying to get back to its tree, but at the time... That was the only time I've spooked on the trail. Three little steps. I am a good horse.

We went out a few more times, just me and Mother, and one time with Aunt Margie and Magnum, once with Erin and Sunman, and once with Jeanie and Thippers. I made him cross the scary things first, and followed exactly in his footprints, where it must be safe because he made it through unhurt. I am a very logical horse.

Those were fun times. When my leg bothered me so much I couldn't hide it from Mother, she stopped riding me. The night before I went down south for surgery, she hopped on me, bareback with my halter and one rope; I started up the trail. She let me walk a little bit, but then she sighed, had me stop, and she slid off. She said maybe when I came back from my surgery. But we never do any of that stuff anymore.

Oh, well, I still get brushed and lots of hay and good cookies every night. Cookies are what it's all about!

First ride... by a montain lion!!

Before Mother realized I had more holes than just my face, she wanted me to be her "riding horse". She brought me and Devil-in-Pony (I mean Devlin Pony) from North Dakota and planned to teach us both how to be riding horses. She said Pony would find a new home before too long since she was too lazy to diet, but that she would keep ME! I guess Devlin did find a new home, because I haven't seen him in a long time, although for a while after he left she would come to visit me each day and a lot of times I could smell dust and hair on her that smelled like Devlin.

The hole in my face took a long time to heal, so while when Pony lived with me Mother would put a funny pad with a belly strap on us, she said to get us used to belly straps. Soon she would saddle us, on our necks and our bellies and haunches and finally on the back, and lead us up next to things to lean on us. Pony Devlin never minded , and I saw her walk around on Devlin and eventually trot and stuff. I just got saddled. Sometimes she would lean on me a little bit but I didn't really like that. It felt funny with the saddle on. It was rigid and not like being petted.

When I met Mother out in North Dakota, the second day she came out to me and put her arm over my back and in her mind I could see pictures of us running along green grass and jumping logs and things I didn't understand. I didn't understand, but I was willing to learn. I didn't know then she meant I would have to wear this saddle and have someone on me!

One day Mother had Aunt Marilyn (she's a nice lady that feeds me) hold me when I was saddled and she leaned on me which I'd mostly forgotten was creepy and then she actually sat on me. That felt odd. It was kind of scary, but OK. The scariest part was when she got off my back. Suddenly she is right along side me when she had been UP THERE. and the sound when her feet hit the ground. Whomp. It was very unsettling.

She did that a few more times over the next days, then one morning Mother had Aunt Karin hold me. I'd only met Aunt Karin the day before, but she is a lot like Mother. After Mother climbed aboard, Aunt Karin started walking with me. I heard Mother say before that the first walk can be dangerous, and I have to say, it's still all very hazy in my mind. I walked quickly and felt little movements on my back as my muscles, which I never noticed before, couldn't move as much because the saddle didn't move and there was more pressure on one side but Aunt Karin let me move along and when I relaxed Mother got off. I didn't understand why Devlin liked this.

So, where's the mountain lion? Well, Mother didn't have anything connecting her to me but the saddle and her legs, and her hands petting me. So that doesn't really count as a ride. So the first ride:

The next day, she had Aunt Marilyn hold me, and she put reins on my halter. Pony used a bit and bridle, but I had my hole in my head, and Mother hadn't taught me... and something about getting pus all over her nice leather. Mother put the reins on the halter because she said I might walk too fast for Aunt Marilyn.

We start walking and my back started feeling weird and I needed to walk faster. Aunt Marilyn couldn't walk that fast, and I ended up walking in front of her, I swung in front of her and there was a fence! I couldn't walk. That is when Mother turned into a mountain lion and I knew I had to get the lion off me very fast or I would die. I taste just like chicken!

I don't remember much of trying to get the mountain lion off. I know I reared and turned and ran, leaping and throwing my body to try to rid it of the lion. Halfway along the fence we had just come I vaguely heard Aunt Marilyn yell, "I no longer have a hold of him!" And from closer, Mother saying, "I'm AWARE!!"

Mother?! Where was she while the mountain lion attacked me? I could hear her calling out to ho-up, but the lion was there, and I couldn't stop. At one point I paused at the fence, I thought I heard her over the lion's breathing, then the lion shifted on my back and I knew he had to go! It was only a matter of time before his teeth and claws raked me to Bif-ereens. I ran, leaping, bucking, launching myself into the air as hard and as fast as I could. After what seemed a long time around the ring, I felt the mountain lion fly off. My head jerked as the halter tightened, and I spun and looked... Mother? Why are you there on the ground? What happened to the mountain lion?