Happy Mother's Day

I love my mom. She's so pretty. Her hair is bright, bright chestnut, but she has stripes of white hairs on her tummy, a blaze on her face and a big white spot on top of her tail. She thinks I'm kind of goofy, but she loves me, too.

When I was little, she used to tell me about the night I was born. She has the most beautiful voice I ever heard. It's soft and low, and she would let me snuggle against her every night and whisper in my ear. She usually told me the story at night. I think she was afraid of the dark, but she never told me that. She just told me a story instead.

"The night you were born, it wasn't even dark yet. The sun had just started going down on the most perfect of days. My owner, Gayle, came to the ranch early that day and got me out of the stall. She curried and brushed me, and cleaned my hooves. She talked as she groomed me. I love to listen to her. I have listened to all her stories. That day, however, she was talking about me, how big I was and how slow I had become.

"It was true, I felt bigger than any draft horse. My belly was so full of you, I thought I might burst. Gayle walked me around the arena a few times. It was nice in the sunshine, even though I grew tired. She took me back to the barn, where our groom Hilde wrapped my tail so it would not get in the way in case I gave birth that day.

"I'll always be honest with you, Son, I was frightened that day. You are my one and only baby, and I knew you were large. I was afraid I would not be able to push you out. Horses usually have their babies alone, late at night. It is our tradition, from years of being wild. We leave the herd to quietly lie down and foal, then get the baby up and back to the herd as quickly as possible.

"Gayle was still at the ranch, preparing to get out a lesson horse for a young boy. Miss Tina was there, too. I heard Gayle ask Miss Tina if a horse's water breaks when they give birth. I realized this was my opportunity, to have you while they were there to help. My water broke.

"Miss Tina laughed and said, 'It looks just like that.' The lesson horse and boy were forgotten that day while they focused their attention on us."

This is where she would stop talking and lick my neck. Sometimes I was asleep by then. If I wasn't, I would ask, "What happened then?"

She would continue. "I could tell, the first time I pushed, there was something wrong. You were stuck on something. I got up a couple of times and turned around, then lie down again, hoping you were re-arranged. I love you, Dear, but you were clutzy, even in the womb.

"Miss Tina saw my distress and stepped into the stall. She felt around inside me and found the problem. One of your hooves was folded back. You need both front feet pointed forward in order to slide out. She straightened your hoof, then started helping me, by pulling. I was already getting tired, and you were so big.

"At last, even Miss Tina was tired, so she told Gayle, 'Get in here, Mom, and help out.' Gayle stepped in to the stall and took one of your legs. Miss Tina held the other. I pushed, they pulled, and quick as a racehorse, you were out and cuddled up next to me, just like you are now."

"And Gayle is my Two-Legged Mom, right?" I'd ask each time.

"Right."

I loved hearing that story. Of course, I don't remember any of it as it happened. All I remember is opening my eyes, like I'd been asleep but couldn't remember the dream. Everything looked kind of blurry. I could feel my mother's warm body beside me, and I could see Two-Legged Mom in the doorway of the stall. She looked fuzzy but I think she was happy.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

A big show!

Dear Diary,

I went in the big moving box again, and when we stopped, I was at a horse show. I knew it was a horse show because I had my good jammies on. Two-Legged Mom said it was the Del Mar Nationals.

Three of my friends came with me - Bubba, Tommy, and Quest. When I first got there, I was calling to all the other horses in the barn. Auntie Niki and Two-Legged Mom kept telling me to be quiet, but I don't know how to do that, so I kept calling. After forever, they took me through the barn aisles for a walk.

When we got done walking, there was soft dirt to run in, so I ran. I ran a lot.

I liked running in the dirt. It was really soft.

The next day, we went to the arena. It was a long way from the barn and it was really big. I wanted to look around and run and play, but Auntie Niki said no. It was hard to do, but I did it. There were pretty colors everywhere and people walking up high, and yellow rolling boxes and lights and flapping noises and big, big voices.

Auntie Niki rode me all around the arena and made me be a good boy. Then Two-Legged Mom got on me and rode me all around the arena. I could tell she was nervous, but she still kept me from looking around. After awhile, I didn't care about looking anymore. There were sticks on the ground to go over. They're always more interesting.

The next day, Miss Tina and Auntie Niki took Tommy and Quest somewhere. I didn't know where, I only knew they were gone. I called and called, but they didn't answer. I got very worried and tried to get out of my stall, but it was locked tight. When Two-Legged Mom came, she fussed over me.

"You are so sweaty, Snoopy. Let's get your clothes off." She took off my jammies and took me out of my stall. I was so happy to be out, I relaxed. She put on my special boots and the long rope and took me back to the soft dirt. I ran. I felt better.

When we got back, she took a wet brush and cloth and cleaned me off, then sprayed me, then cleaned, then sprayed. I could tell she was upset about me being so sweaty. She was growling things under her breath that I couldn't understand, but I knew the words weren't happy words.

After forever, Tommy came back. Two-Legged Mom took his saddle off and put it on me. She was still growling, so I stood still and tried not to make her growl more. Quest came back with Miss Niki, and then Miss Niki started to fuss over me. Two-Legged Mom stopped growling.

We went to the big arena. I liked it there. There were lots of horses to be with. Miss Niki rode me over the important, pretty sticks. I know they're important because I'm the only horse going over them, and there are people in hats who watch me and nod, and make little scratches on their papers.

After Auntie Niki rode me, Two-Legged Mom rode me over the important sticks. The people in hats watched again.

We stayed in the big arena forever again, then I heard big voices, then everyone started patting me.

"Second under both judges in Green and First under both judges in Novice Amateur," they said. I don't know what that meant, but I went back to the barn and got a bath and an apple, so it must have been good.

The next day, we did mostly the same thing, except they didn't take Quest and Tommy away from me, so I wasn't sweaty. Auntie Niki rode me, then Two-Legged Mom. I was a little bad for Two-Legged Mom, and wanted to look at the people going by instead of listening to her. She pulled on my bridle and made me pay attentiona gain. Then my leg got kind of tired and I stopped loping over some sticks, so she had to push me again.

When the big voice had finished talking, I got second under both judges in Green and a second and third in Novice Amateur. Then the big voice said I was something called Circuit Champion, which was weird, because I think I'm a horse.

It made Two-Legged Mom happy, and I got another apple, so it was all good.

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.