Cross your fingers

Snoopy and I are horse-show bound.

The last time I tried to show my big, black horse, he broke his left hind sesamoid bone two days before the show. It's Friday night, the show is Sunday, and so far we're still healthy.

The show is a one-day in Desert Hot Springs at the Willowbrook Riding Club. We'll haul in. Niki will show him in the green trail and I'll show him in novice amateur. Niki's been to these shows before and describes them as very low key, low stress. I'm trying to follow her lead.

But can I confess to a little stress? The last time I tried this, I literally broke my horse. In reality, I know there's a low probability of this happening again. In my head, however, anything's possible.

That Snoopy came back to soundness after the break is so wonderful, we consider him our miracle horse. For me to get into the arena with him, almost three years later, is amazing. I may be a little weepy on Sunday. I hope I can hold it in until after we complete the course.

That leaves the course. Niki says it won't be extremely difficult for the novice amateurs, and she is confident that I can move Snoopy around on it. I'm not certain if I can move him around and make it look pretty. I try to do things correctly, but in the show ring, I get hyper-focused on the course and getting it done, which throws pretty out the window. I'm also aware of the next person to go and hate taking too much time, so I rush everything.

There's a phrase singers and public speakers use: Don't bogart the mike. I have no idea where it came from, but it means not to hog the microphone and keep the other singers or speakers from their full turn.

On Sunday, I plan to take my time, take my full turn, and bogart the mike.

I was going to take a picture of Snoopy in the wash rack, getting ready for the big day, but I forgot. Instead, I'll leave you with this little ditty. It's worth the 7:21 minutes, trust me. And the horse reminds me of Snoopy during the carrot scene.



Enjoy.

A post-Christmas letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

First of all, my son and I would like to thank you for the cookies and the candy canes. They are very crunchy, and I confess, I have a real sweet tooth for peppermint.

However, we must protest the other gifts you left for us. Snoopy does not care for his cribbing collar at all. Confidentially, it doesn't bother me. As a matter of fact, I think he still deserves a lump of coal in his stocking for that time when he was a few months old and chewed my tail hair off. Can you imagine? As it is, I don't have long, flowing, Flicka hair. I need every strand. Took a year to grow back. But I digress...

I do not know why you would put a stud chain in my stocking. I simply do not need one. Two-legged Mom puts one on me to walk on the hot-walker, but that's her problem, not mine. After you've been around the circle once, it's a boring trip. Well, okay, maybe twice... in each direction... after all, counter-clockwise is completely different scenery. Mom may have wanted a stud chain, but not me.

It's possibly my fault for not writing you a letter with my wish list (which would have included more food, including apples and carrots, a night light for my stall, and fresh bedding every day), but how do you expect me to hold a pencil?

I heard two-legged Mom say something about a TV series from long ago where a horse would use a pencil to call someone on the phone. Of course, he could talk, but I could use the pencil to type you a letter. I just have to get Mom to bring her laptop to the ranch.

You'll be hearing from me, Mr. Claus.

Frostie (and Snoopy)

P.S. Did our presents this year have anything to do with this? Just asking.

An eventful day: Snoopy writes in his diary

Dear Diary,

Today started out really good. I got up early to look for Raul, who brings me my hay. I waited forever, but he finally brought it. I was hungry so I ate it all. It was good. Then I looked out of my stall, but no one else was around. The other horses were still eating. I was bored.

It's easy for a guy to be bored in a stall. There's not much to look at. Not much to do. If I was in a big place with lots of horses, it would be more fun. When I was little, I remember being in a big place with two older guys, Tucker and Johnny. Before that, I had been in with Uncle Snowy. And even before that, I was with Mom.

The bigger place was fun to run around. I like to run around. I like to look at things and bite them to see what they are. Sometimes I pick them up and throw them. Johnny and Tucker wouldn't let me bite them. Neither would Uncle Snowy. Mom wasn't crazy about it either.

Once, I got in with the goats. They were fun to bite. I could pick them up by the tail, but I couldn't throw them very far. They complained, so the man took me back to my own pen.

Now Two-Legged Mom says I'm a big boy and have to be in a stall. I like her, even if she won't let me bite her, but I'm bored in the stall. Once I had to be in my stall for a long time. My leg kinda hurt. They took me to a place where I laid down to sleep and woke up with something heavy on my foot. It was there forever, then they took me back to the place and took it off forever, then I went back to my stall and stayed forever.

At least, I thought it was all forever. I was really bored in my stall. I found out, if I bite something and swallow, it makes my brain all floaty and my body gets tingly. It was fun. I started doing it all the time. If I was going to be in my stall forever, I might as well have fun.

Today, after I ate, I bit the stall door and swallowed. It felt good. I did it again. Again and again and again and again and then Auntie Niki came to my stall and said, "Knock it off, horse. The cribbing is driving me nuts."

But I don't know what that meant, so I just kept biting and swallowing and feeling good about it. Auntie Niki got me out of my stall and let me run around in the little pen. I love to run and jump. She took me to the Wet Standing Place and sprayed water on me, then took me to the Dirt Standing Place and made me stand there forever.

At least, I thought it was forever, but she took me back to my stall. There was nothing to do, so I started biting and swallowing again.

Two-Legged Mom came. I nickered, "Hello."

"Santa got you an early present, Snoop Dog," she said.

I don't know who this Santa is, or what a present is, or even what early means. Mostly, I heard, "Blah, blah, blah, Snoop Dog." But I love it when she talks to me.

She and Auntie Niki came into my stall. Auntie Niki put something on my neck and talked to Two-Legged Mom. She said, "Blah, blah, blah, his throatlatch, blah-blah, blah."

When they left my stall, there was still something on my neck. It was hard, but didn't hurt. I bit my stall door and tried to swallow.

I couldn't! I couldn't swallow and make my head floaty! It must be the thing on my neck. I licked the stall door, but it wasn't the same. I pouted forever, until dinner came. Then I ate.

This Santa must be a very bad person to make me stop biting and swallowing. I mean, I love Auntie Niki and Two-Legged Mom, but WTF?

He's a good boy, he is

On my other blog, I posted our annual Christmas picture for people to choose. This year, we actually got more than one useable shot. If you haven't voted, travel on over there and help me select a good picture to go with the Christmas letter.

In and around the good photos, we had a bunch of hmm, not so useable pix. Usually these are because Snoopy has had enough posing and wants to sniff the cat or eat Marcus' hair or something. I'm posting these outtakes to show you it's not always his fault.

Training day

Forgive me for not posting in awhile, but there hasn't been much to post about. Snoopy is as right as rain these days, thanks to monthly visits from the horsey chiropractor. Yes, we have chiropractors for our horses, as well as acupuncturists, and possibly even aromatherapists.

"Take a deep breath, Mr. Investment. The apple-carrot-molasses mixture should bring a feeling of - Mr. Investment! Please stop eating the potpourri!"

My trainers, Niki and Tina, have been riding him, although it's been mostly Niki. Tina is the owner of the ranch, and not only is she up to her ears in the daily ranch upkeep AND the dog boarding/training business she runs to help pay the mortgage, her grandson is struggling with aplastic anemia and she has to dash to the hospital, or pick up his older brother, at a moment's notice. She's not a praying woman, but I don't think she minds if you want to toss a request God's way to get little Grant back to good health. His blood transfusions are not holding. I get the impression that the next thing on the list is to go for the bone marrow transplant. He's only four, for Pete's sake. He needs a break.

But I digress...

So Niki's been riding Snoopy and everyone is asking me when I'm going to get back into regular training, and I keep saying, "Next week, I hope." Except when Next Week arrives, it's too hot out or too rainy or I'm too exhausted and I don't get on him.

And then there's this other 'thing'. When Snoopy started to get better, I had this mental picture of getting on him, practicing over a few trail poles and wham! going off to the horse show. That's not what happened.

When I got back on him to train, things had changed. I used to walk him into a box (four poles on the ground, laid perpendicular, to make a box), stop, then turn him around and walk out. Nowadays, you walk your horse into the box and KEEP WALKING as he turns around. This turns out to be a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds pretty hard.

I also have to hold my reins differently, looser, with my thumb up instead of down.

Oh, and I have to close my spurs** on him to stop, instead of just saying, "Ho." (No, we don't say Whoa. Try it. "Whoa" is more lip movement. "Ho" just slides outa your mouth.) And then there's the spur backup. I keep my spurs on him to back him up, instead of raising my reins and saying, "Back."

Suddenly, I didn't know how to ride anymore. Suddenly, he wasn't even my horse anymore. He had all these cues that I didn't know. It made me frustrated, upset, and even angry. I wanted to hit something, but I didn't.

I had a meltdown. I told Niki how much I hated it all. I told her I didn't want to ride him anymore. I even said I'd rather sell him than try to back him off my spurs again. There were a few tears.

Niki calmly replied that she didn't want me to be upset about all this. She had me accompany her to the arena, where she got on Snoopy and explained what she was doing and why. Using the spurs was to keep Snoopy's head from lifting, which is what happens when you use the reins. I could still say "Ho". I didn't have to push him hard with the spurs, just turn my toes out and press him lightly. He still moves forward off the spurs if he's already moving forward; he just backs if he's stopped. She showed me how it all worked. She tried to make me feel better.

I was skeptical, but not as upset.

This week, I had two lessons on Snoop. I tried out what she said about the spurs, and added a vocal command of "clucking" to the back, which made me feel better. The first lesson went really well. We didn't do a lot of poles, but we did circles, stopping, backing, jogging and loping. He was very responsive and I had a great ride. There were no tears, either.

I thought, since I had a great first lesson, my second lesson would go badly. It didn't. I did a lot more poles this time. Niki showed me how to push him across the pole at the jog, which kept my tush in the saddle. I learned to kiss to him as he loped poles and felt his response. It was another great ride, another good lesson.

It's now looking more possible to me that I'll be able to show him one day soon. When I do, there'll be PLENTY of pictures to post.

**A note about spurs: If you don't ride horses, spurs sound like big, pointy instruments of torture. None of our spurs are sharply pointed. We would never use anything on our horses that would harm them. Some of our horses are very ticklish; put your leg on them and they go. Other horses are not ticklish at all; put your leg on them and they just don't feel you. A spur at this point is like taking a finger and poking them. Snoopy is one of those horses.

It's an honor to be nominated

I won! I won!

Without even competing...

So, here's what happened: I lurk on a lot of blogs, and I frequently add my two-cents to the mixture when there's an interesting topic. I was lurking on the Professional's Choice blog and saw a few entries that were just begging for my comments. Of course, I was happy to oblige.

As it turns out, they were having a contest to give away free stuff to some lucky commentor, and they pulled my name out of their cyber-hat. I won a pair of leather protective boots.

Here's Snoopy modeling my prize.

They're so pretty, and so much nicer (and more expensive) than the ones I usually purchase, I'm tempted to only use them for special occasions, like, maybe the Christmas Day lunge. But I won't - I'll use them all the time.

Thanks, Professional's Choice!!

He's finally back in the game!

Snoopy was back in Burbank this weekend at the Lights! Camera! Action! Horse Show, held by Track One Events. This time, Tina rode him in the AQHA Green Trail. The class started at 7 a.m. both Thursday and Saturday. I live in Orange County, which is about 50 miles from Burbank, so I had to get up at Oh-My-God-Thirty to get to the Equestrian Center.

I missed Thursday's go by about 15 minutes due to traffic. Snoopy was back at his stall being unsaddled when I walked around the corner.

"Do you know what your horse did?" Tina asked.

Knowing Snoopy, I couldn't say.

"He knocked over the wheely cart."

The "wheely cart" is a three-tiered metal cart that holds our brushes, sprays, bell boots, etc. Apparently, Snoopy had gone out of his way to make contact with the cart and send everything flying into the barn aisle. The good news, if you can call it that, is the racket and rocketing equipment didn't scare him. He looked over the mess and pronounced it good.

I was only surprised that Tina was so surprised by this. She knows what kind of goofball he is.

"I moved it away from him," she protested.

Not far enough, Tina. Not far enough.

Most horses are tied to their stalls with their lead ropes. Not Snoopy. He gets a chain, because he gnaws through rope.

We called him our "junkyard dog".

As for the class, he showed well on Thursday. So well, that he got a FIRST and THIRD! That's right. After spending several hundred dollars on the show, I got a $10 iTunes card.

On Saturday, he tried really hard, but Tina misread the course and took him over a pole he wasn't supposed to take, which caused him to break from the lope. You could tell he wanted to figure out how to do it correctly, but it was still just ugly. Tina was still kicking herself after the class, but sometimes things like that happen. The poles were set up like a wheel and she just got it into her head to take all of them.

He was a little tired, too, so his trot-overs were a little clunky, but I was still proud of him. Tina says I need to show him in the next show, which will either be in Temecula in July (can you say, "dress rehearsal for Hell?") or back in Burbank in August.

Stay tuned!