A fun idea!

Dear Diary,

A few sleeps ago, Two-Legged Mom went away. Then she came back. She was very excited, just like me when I want to go into the wood pen and buck and jump. But she didn't go into the wood pen, she talked instead. She talked a lot about the idea she got while she was away.

She wants me to tell my story, all about how I was a show horse and won that big prize, then broke my leg, then got better. Of course, I can't hold one of those little sticks and make marks on the paper, like she does. I've tried to hold the stick, but everyone takes it away from me, which is okay, I guess, because I don't know what kind of marks to make. I'd sure like to try one day, though.

Two-Legged Mom calls it "writing my memoir." I'm not sure what that means, but I hope I figure it out before we're done.

This is what I told her the first day:

"When I was just a colt, my mother called me a simpleton. That must be a good thing, because I won lots of horse shows. Then I broke my leg. It sure changes a guy, but I hope I'm still a simpleton. I'd like to make my mom proud."

That's all for now, but I'll be telling Two-Legged Mom a lot more.

Snoopy

P.S. Would anyone else like to read my story?

At what cost?

Just like Snoopy, I like to compete at horse shows. We show on the AQHA (American Quarter Horse Association) circuit, in trail. Snoopy liked trail the first time Tina showed him poles, which is good because I like it, too. Tina and Niki believe that a horse and rider should do what they BOTH enjoy. If the rider enjoys an event more than the horse, they'll try to help the pair be as successful as they can be, within reason.

I'm also aware that not all trainers are this way, and I am very grateful for Tina and Niki. I know of western pleasure trainers who tie their horses' heads up for hours in order to get a lower headset from them. I know of western trail trainers who put strips of nails on their poles so the horses hurt their legs if they don't lift their feet high enough to get over the poles.

I also know this kind of "training" is rampant among other breeds and other disciplines. A friend of mine recently posted a picture of a magnificent stallion who had his jaw tied to his neck with baling string, so tightly that his jaw touched his chest. He was pressing his forehead against the wall of his stall to try to relieve the pressure. I assume this was done to get more flexibility in the horse's poll.

Recently, however, I learned of the practice of "soring." Apparently, some people who show gaited horses, in an attempt to get a more exaggerated swing from the front legs, actually use chemicals on the pasterns to make the horse sore enough to lift his legs higher. If they don't burn the horse, they put things (like bolts or golf balls) against their hoof soles to make it painful for the horse to put his weight on his front feet.

What. The. Hell.

Before you ask, yes, this is illegal. Yes, anyone caught doing this is punished. And yet, for some people, it's worth the risk. My question is, what is worth the risk?

I like to win as much as the next person. But I don't want to compete my horse into early retirement. We've had that discussion.

For trainers to try to physically alter a horse to make it conform to a winning standard boggles my mind. The horse being tied uncomfortably in his/her stall learns that there is no safe place in their world. The horse who experiences pain when they knock into a pole learns that trail is a hurtful place. The horse that is physically scarred for a higher step no doubt spends their elderly years in crippling pain. It's possible that the horses who've had their heads tied up, or jaws to their chests, also end up crippled as the years go by, since their spines have been manipulated so harshly.

And what do the trainers gain? More wins today, with the chance of discovery and suspension tomorrow. A constant nagging knowledge that they aren't "training" any of these horses, any more than a plastic surgeon "trains" a nose to be smaller. And imagine the mare or stallion they've altered, through physical restraint or chemical pain. Can they honestly advertise this horse for any breeding program, when their gait or headset was not genetic?

It's one of those things that seems plain to me - find out what a horse is good at and train them to do it. Don't reconstruct a draft horse so they can run barrels. Get a barrel horse. Be honest with the owners of the barrel horse who want to ride dressage. Stop looking at each horse as a dollar sign, a means to an end.

Trainers, make your reputation as horse lovers first. And horse owners, don't use a trainer who doesn't at least respect your horse. That's the first step toward curing this abuse.

Teamwork

I'm relaxing today in my big, comfy chair, and perusing the Internet, when I stumbled across this video on YouTube. I can read just enough French to know the title is, Who Says Equitation Is Not A Sport?







I'm not a jumper or eventer. I've never jumped a horse over anything taller than my own knees (and the first few times I did that, I squeeled). I can tell that these riders look off-balance, their hands and arms are twitching about instead of giving the horse guidance, and most of them pull back on the reins at the worst possible moment (from being off-balance), breaking the horse's forward impulsion.

And yet, despite the technicality of what they're doing wrong, I can see two really important, higher-level errors these riders are making.

One is that many of them look like they do not believe the horse can really take the jump. They don't commit to the thing. You can't gallop down the slope, find yourself staring at a brick wall and think, holy cow, how are we gonna make that? If you don't commit, why should your four-legged partner?

The other thing that stands out is they are not working in tandem with their horse to make the horse successful. Part of this is the technique, their balance, etc. But they lean back when they should be moving forward with the horse. They don't look like a team. The most beautiful riding is when it looks like the horse and rider are one, each giving the other what they need.

I ride trail. The poles are on the ground. Nothing I do could result in my head being slammed into a wall, unless the Fates are unusually unkind and God's holding my lottery ticket that day. And yet, this video showed me, in no uncertain terms, that my horse and I need to be a team, and no matter what the pattern, I need to believe we can do it.

I went to a horse show

See this picture?

Two-Legged Mom and Auntie Niki took me to a horse show! It was mostly fun. I don't like to get a bath so much, and it tickles my ears when Auntie Niki holds the buzzy machine next to them. She holds them next to my legs and on my nose, too. I don't know what for, but Two-Legged Mom says I look pretty, so it must be a good thing.

But then I get to ride in the Big Moving Box. That's fun. I get to eat and hang out. This time, my friends Tommy and Sandy went with me. The floor goes up and down forever, and the grass and trees go sideways forever, and then we're somewhere new.

I recognized this new place. I was here last year. They have really tasty water here, but the shavings aren't very fluffy. Last year I had my head out of my stall all the time and was always calling out to my friends.

This year, I felt different, like I was too grown up to scream and jump around. Even when Two-Legged Mom took me to the pen to let me run on the long rope, I didn't want to jump around or act silly. I had work to do.

Auntie Niki and Two-Legged Mom were the silly ones this time. My jammies are a pretty bright color. Two-Legged Mom calls it "red". Auntie Niki thinks it makes me look like Super Snoopy, whatever that means. She drew something on my hoodie.

I don't know what it is, but it made them laugh. I like to make Two-Legged Mom and Auntie Niki happy.

I had fun in the show ring. I went over all the sticks, just like I was told. Two-Legged Mom told me to back into the flower box, so I did. Usually I'm not supposed to knock things over in the ring, so that was fun.

After that, we walked back into the big moving box and ate more food and then we were back home.

Life is like a bag of carrots. It's all good.

I love A-HA moments

This is, for most of you, going to be a "so what?" post, but bear with me. I have a point.

Yesterday, I had an a-ha moment in my lesson on Snoop. I've had lots of them, although maybe not enough of them to be as proficient on a horse as I'd like to be. But when a detail finally makes its way into my brain, I savor it. I cherish it. I describe it to myself as I drive home. I re-live the moment while I'm in the shower. If I could bronze it, I would.

The situation was this: Niki was asking me and Snoopy to lope a straight line across three poles. The poles looked, more or less, like this (the orange triangle is a cone on the corner):

The line we were supposed to lope was here:

I loped Snoopy around on the right lead first, pointed him toward the first pole, looked at the last pole, and thought we had it made. Niki, of course, was yelling at me to stand him up more. Oh, she wasn't yelling because she was mad. She was yelling because I get so zoned out when I'm riding, she's reduced to shouting and repeating herself. I figure, I'm giving her good training for when her son is about five and too busy watching cartoons to actually listen to her.

We loped over the first pole, loped over the X, then suddenly veered to the right. Before I knew it, Snoopy was jumping over the cone.

"Nope. Do it again." I heard Niki say that.

I tried it again, this time listening hard to Niki and pushing his left hip over and tugging the reins up over his withers. I confess, I wasn't sure why I was doing it, but I did it. Our line was perfect. I did it one more time to prove it wasn't a fluke, then turned around somehow and loped the same line on the left lead. This time I kept Niki's commands in my head and loped it perfectly the first time. It felt superb, like I was actively riding my horse and he was just as actively responding.

"Beautiful," Niki said. She kind of sang this, as in, "Hallelujah, the woman can be taught."

So here's the a-ha part: Afterward, I figured out what she was telling me to do. When I was looking down at Snoopy, he looked to be in a straight line, in that his hips and shoulders were parallel. I expected us to go straight.

But even though his shoulders and hips were parallel, they weren't even. His right shoulder and hip dipped slightly lower than his left side.

Even if his body seemed to be on a straight line, he would not be able to continue the line. Sooner or later, he would veer. By pushing his opposite side, it aligned the leaning side and made him truly travel in a straight line.

I know this is a little detailed and possibly dry and mechanical, but my point is that sometimes it is in the details, whether it's horseback riding or writing a novel or raising a child or living a life. Broad, sweeping changes aren't always necessary. It's that one minor adjustment that can give you the greatest reward.

Play nice!

I read a post today at Equestrian Ink, about one horsewoman's discomfort with the idea of "liberty play" with your horse. You can go read about it, but the gist of her argument is that it's never a good idea to try to play with your horse as if you were another horse. Not unless you weigh a thousand pounds and wear iron shoes.In her words, "It works until it doesn't."

I was going to write a big long comment about my experience playing with my horse, but I decided to instead post my story here. After all, I have 5 followers on this blog - they might want to know!

A few years ago, the dog training pen in the front of the ranch was a turnout for the horses. It's a kind of oval shape, so trying to lunge a horse without a longline usually meant the horse would tear down one side of the fence, then stop in the corner and make you chase after them.

Frostie & Baby Snoopy in the old turnout

One day, I was in the pen with my mare, Frostie. I wanted her to run, but she just wanted to walk around and look for leaves to eat. If I had been a smart woman (key phrase here), I'd have taken a whip with me, or put her on a line. Instead, I just ran toward her, snapping the lead line, making shushing noises, and waving my hands. She ran.

Frostie in high gear

Then she stopped. Then I chased and she ran again then stopped. Then turned when I didn't ask for it, etc. Pretty soon, we're doing this weird kind of keep-away dance. I'd run, she'd run, then turn and I'd have to quickly try to turn her back. Of course, as I'm doing this, I get a little lost in the moment and don't keep track of how close our bodies are getting.

Suddenly, with one stop, she turned her butt to me and a big red flashing lightbulb went off in my head, complete with System Shutdown Honk-Honk Siren. "You're too close! You're too close! Get out! Get out!" I turned and took two steps away from her.

They weren't far enough. She planted and fired out with both hind legs. Her ears weren't back, and the rest of her body didn't say she was mad or annoyed. She just looked like she was being playful. Unfortunately, her playful kick caught me in the butt.

The good news is, I was just far enough away to only receive the very tail end of the kick, so it didn't even knock me off my feet. I did have an interesting bruise on my tush.

Frostie ran to the other side of the pen, where she stood with her head down. She could have been pleased with herself, but (if you'll allow me a little creative license) she looked quite mortified.

The other good news is, I learned a valuable lesson that day. You can play with your dog. You can play with your food. But don't play with your horse. They outweigh you.

Can I taste you?

Oh, and if you think I'd ever play with this guy, you're out of your mind.

Goals for 2012

My goals for this year are much like last's: enjoy my horse and take him to a few shows.

The first one is a one-day show in Desert Hot Springs, on January 14th. It's at the Willowbrook Riding Club, if you're interested in coming.

Then my selections get large and my decisions get foggier. I don't see anything on the horizon until April, when there are two shows. Three in May, then nothing until August. So the question I have to answer is, how many shows are too much for one month? Three in May seems exhausting, to me and the Snoop-Dog. But should I try for both in April? One is the first weekend and one is the second. (I'm not counting the Del Mar Nationals, because I'm just not going to that one.)

Maybe I should plan on the first horse show in the month. That way, if something happens, I've still got the second one to try to get to, instead of planning on the second one and having something happen.

Stay tuned. Snoopy and I may change our minds.