When you have to win all the battles or lose the war

Snoopy is who he is. Tina likes to blame his blundering, boundary-less, intrusive, mouthy personality on me, but I think he would have been that horse no matter who raised him. After all, when he was a baby, our groom Hilde worked with him as much, if not more, than I ever did.

I love my big, black horse AND he is a pain in the ass. After six years, I've decided he can't help himself. He wants something in his mouth all the time. All. The. Time. Truly, if he were human, he'd be a chain smoker. Or maybe that guy who's always chewing gum.

So as I'm leading him, he wants to hold the lead rope in his mouth. Or the longe line. Or the reins. Or my shirt. I smack him and he stops - for five seconds. Sometimes less. I always start out being nice. I take the lead rope away from him. Next, I take the lead rope and tug him sharply. We escalate from there, until I'm either popping his nose with the rope or smacking him across the chest and backing him up across the yard.

None of it matters. He doesn't remember, and it wears me down.

For a long time, I let him hold the lead rope in his mouth when we walked. I thought it was a harmless way to keep from beating him every five seconds. It's like having a kid that tests you EVERY (FREAKING) SECOND OF EVERY (FREAKING) DAY. You start picking your battles.

This, unfortunately, was a battle I should have picked.

A few weeks ago, I was taking him back to his stall and stopped to talk to a friend. We were chatting about nothing in particular, blah, blah, blah. And then it happened. Snoopy reached down to grab the lead rope. Except he missed the rope and got my index finger.

Let's say it all together: "OOOOOOOWWWWWWWW."

There was no broken skin, nor broken bones. There was a lot of spanking, and cursing.

Here's the thing - it's been weeks and I still don't have all the feeling back in my finger. It was my own fault for 1) not paying attention while I was chatting, and 2) ever letting him hold the lead rope.

I hate being a mean mom. I have to choose ALL the battles. Do you think he'll ever grow out of his oral fixation?

Keep Out! In the nicest way.

Do you ever drive by a house that has a gorgeous rose garden in the front yard, or an inviting courtyard, or even a bounce house set up for a birthday party? Do you ever pull over to the curb and wander around these strangers' property?

No. No, you don't. It's called trespassing. I don't know about you, but one of my goals in life is to stay out of jail.

So, given that most people do not even traipse across their neighbor's lawn, what is it about a ranch that invites people to come on in and look around?

The ranch where my horses are boarded does have a steady business with both horses and dogs. There are four horse trainers, riding lessons offered, doggie day care and boarding, obedience classes, etc. We want the facility to be open and inviting to the people who want to board their horses/dogs or take lessons.

But twice now, I've had to tactfully escort people from the property who had "just stopped by to look at the pretty horses." One day, there were two teenagers who were wandering through the furthest barn, petting the horses. This is the barn we affectionately call "Murderers Row." At least 5 of the 8 horses in there would love to sink their teeth into you. They're not mean - just curious. Today, it was two women with a two-year old in sandals in the first barn. This is the kindest, gentlest barn, but still - a two year old in sandals?

I gently explain that there are liability issues, apologize profusely, and show them the gate. So far, they've been very understanding about it.

But one of these days, I'm gonna snap.

"What possesses you to think you can come on private property and handle animals that don't belong to you? And when you get bitten or fall down or scratch yourself on our equipment, you probably expect us to cover your medical expenses, right?

"Get out. Get out now." (This last phrase has a subtle hint of Exorcist Voice. Watch my head spin as I say it.)

I'll try to keep it together, but will someone explain this phenomena to me? If you wouldn't let yourself into a stranger's home, why would you let yourself into a stranger's barn?

P.S. Snoopy enjoyed the visitors. They tasted like chicken.

You learn something new every day

Sometimes I have "aha" moments. Sometimes they're more like, "D'Oh" moments.

This week was definitely worth a headslap.

Snoopy sees the chiropractor regularly. When you've got a leg with metal plates, a dozen screws, and a fused joint, you find yourself having to compensate for the things that leg no longer does with ease. And the other body parts you use start to show the strain of pulling double duty.

Since Snoopy's left hind leg is the repaired one, it's usually his hips that are out. Recently, Niki noticed his left leg taking a lot longer to warm up when she was lunging him. When Dr. Bari came out to adjust him, she found him out in his hips and his shoulders. He spent the next day relaxing after such a major tune-up.

Niki and I discussed it later: what had changed in his workout to suddenly cause him to be so sore and misaligned?

His riders.

For the past several months, Niki has been his principal trainer. Niki's focus when training him was to get him into frame* and keep him there. Once he was warmed up at the rail and holding himself correctly, she would take him over poles. Even when I had a lesson, she would spend a little time warming him up before I got on him.

Now that Niki is too pregnant to ride, Tina has taken over again. She is, of course, a good trainer. She has a different approach and a different agenda than Niki does, however. She warms Snoopy up both on the rail and over poles. As opposed to "helping" Snoopy hold himself up until he can do it on his own, she gives him plenty of rein to let him figure out his stride. There is nothing wrong with this, and together, Tina and Niki complement each other nicely.

When just one or the other is doing the training, the horse must re-adjust. For Snoopy, using his body differently means new parts are suddenly compensating for the bionic leg. This isn't necessarily bad for him - we just need to know and ease him into the differences instead of continuing to push for him to get with the new program.

So we're more on the lookout for the leg to look tired, Tina's going to go easier on his left side, and if he needs a little bute to get him through a day, that's okay, too.

He'll never be the same horse he was as a three-year old, but he loves to work and loves trail poles, so we're going to do what we can to keep him comfortable every day.

I'm just smacking my forehead that we didn't think of this earlier.


*For non-horse folks, being "in frame" is for a horse to hold themselves in a proper posture while they move. Think of it as the difference between the person who walks all slumped over and duck-footed, and the person with the straight spine, who lifts their rib cage and moves their legs and feet with forward momentum.

An ode to an old horse

I'm hijacking Snoopy's blog today because of a blog I read yesterday. Laura Crum's "In Praise of Henry" at Equestrian Ink, is an ode to her 23-year old Quarter horse, ridden by her young son. Henry is one of those horses: world-wise, rock-steady, gentle-as-a-lamb. Actually, he sounds gentler than a lamb, since a lamb will still kick you as it struggles to escape being picked up, but of course, you'd never try to pick up a 1000-pound horse, and this metaphor is taking me off on a tangent...

At any rate, Henry has taught Laura's son to ride with both confidence and joy, something Laura wouldn't trade for anything, not even the $5,000 she paid for him when he was nineteen. Yeah. Five thousand at 19 - from her uncle.

Who said blood was thicker than water?

It made me think of a horse I bought for too much money, one that I've never discussed here. Several years ago, when Snoopy was a mere baby, I came to the ranch to do something - ride, teach, I don't remember, and a new horse had been hauled in. He was a big sorrel gelding named Call Me One. His barn name was Uno.

He was in the cross-ties, and Niki was grooming him. Now, I had known Niki for a few years, and she had always shown the same personality, of being friendly, but businesslike, and a little reserved. On that day, a Niki I'd never met before was currying this horse, so full of joy I thought she was going to sprout wings and fly.

Uno had been Niki's horse for awhile, back when she was a youth rider. He wasn't her first horse, but there was apparently something about him. I didn't ask her to describe it. I just watched it.

Uno was used at the ranch briefly, as a lesson horse, before Christine bought him and showed him for awhile. He was nothing flashy at any event, but he was a serviceable horse who would get you around at a show without worry. He could do pleasure, horsemanship, trail, and even a little hunt seat eq. They teased that his name was Uno because he only had one brain cell, but he was just a journeyman kind of horse. Tell him what to do and he did it.

Not that he didn't have his quirks. He was afraid of livestock, and once wouldn't come out of the roundpen because he could see the sheep in the front arena. He was also afraid of EZ-Ups, and would startle at them EVERY time he passed by one.

When Christine got too busy with her other show horses, she sold Uno to a couple, Dolph and Irene, who took turns taking lessons on him. I don't think they ever showed him, but they had plenty of fun with him. After a little bit (the years sift by so quickly I'm hesitant to say how long), Dolph went back to school and neither of them had enough time to give to Uno and they started looking for another owner.

Uno was 20 by now, and a little gimpy in his left front leg. We kept it wrapped, with a little medicated gel, and gave him isoxyprene and a dash of bute every day, just to keep him comfortable. I couldn't imagine who would want to buy him, especially at the price they were asking, which was $3,000.

I only knew two things: 1) he was a nice, agreeable, stead-eddy horse to ride, and 2) every time he came out of the barn, Niki lit up like a lighthouse beacon. What could I do?

I bought him. Tina thought I was crazy to pay that much for him. I don't know what Niki thought. I just knew that I'd make certain he lived to the end of his days here. For the next year, I had a great time riding him in lessons (he was the only horse Niki made me apologize to once, when I yanked too hard on his mouth), I used him as a lesson horse, and he got plenty of carrots and currying.

 
Uno was a fiend for the curry. The rubby-scratchy motion of the rubber nubs would make him stretch his neck into the next county, his lips pursing together like a happy camel. Nothing makes you feel better than making your horse feel that good.



Irene scratching Uno



After a little over a year, he started limping at the jog. Drugs, rest, and therapy didn't help. Dr. Pollard took x-rays, then came back a couple of weeks later to take more. They were showing what we suspected - he was foundering. Oddly enough, it was his heel that was sinking through the hoof, not the toe. The x-rays showed a significant change in only two weeks. Dr. Pollard gave me the bad news - Uno would have to be put down within the next month.

"I know you need time to process this," he said. "But I wouldn't wait too long."

It was a cool morning in July, just before we left for a week's vacation. Everyone told me how they never attended this event because it was too hard. Yes, it was hard. But I felt I owed Uno my presence.

I know some of you won't believe what I'm going to tell you next, but we've had the whole talk about magic in a previous post. Believe it or don't.

Dr. Pollard had just given Uno a tranquilizer, and was preparing THE SHOT. Our groom was holding Uno's lead rope; he was strong enough to guide Uno to the ground when everything took effect. I stood at the side, out of harm's way.

Uno turned his head toward me and looked at me. What I heard in my head was:"Sorry about the bum leg."

"It's okay," I whispered. "Just get back here to us."

You learn a lot from old horses.

Now we be havin' some fun

We had such a good time at the Desert Hot Springs one-day show, we decided to try our luck at a bigger show. The Southern California Quarter Horse Exhibitor Association held their Show Me the Money show at the L.A. Equestrian Center in Burbank last weekend. It was four days of all the things Quarter horses can do - Western pleasure, English equitation, reining, driving, barrel racing, everything except working cows, probably only because cow rental can be expensive.

Snoopy and I limited ourselves to one event: trail. Our trainer, Niki, took him in Green Horse, and I rode him in Novice Amateur. Two classes on Thursday, two on Saturday. It was a lovely weekend.

I began showing by riding my other trainer Tina's champion, Copper Kist. Because I leased and didn't own him, I couldn't show AQHA, so I showed PCHA (Pacific Coast Horse Shows Association). They had about a gazillion classes that I was eligible for, and I showed in them all. Preliminary Trail, Adult/Amateur Trail, Basic Trail... I think I rode four classes each day, and they showed all four days of a weekend event. By the end I was exhausted from learning the trail patterns, much less riding them.

By contrast, learning one pattern and riding one class seems civilized. Snoopy tends to lack stamina, so two classes every other day still wears him out.

I know, I know, I can hear you all whining, "But how did you do?"

The first day we won 2nd and 3rd (the classes are double-judged) in Novice Amateur, and Snoopy and Niki got 4th and 7th in Green. The final day, we got 5th and 7th, and he and Niki got 3rd and 5th.

Each day, each course, had its own easy parts and rough parts, at least for me. The last day, I flubbed a trot-over by making him dive in too closely, but what I think cost us as much was that he was so tired, I was having to work to keep him moving. You never get style points when you make it look hard, and I don't think I was making it look easy.

It didn't matter, though. They were the most fun days, and the most fun courses, that I've ever done. I thought about what I was doing, and was able to communicate that to my big black gelding, more or less.

For those of you who've never seen a trail course, here's Snoopy being ridden by Niki in the first day's Green Horse Trail class. The audio portion of the video was mostly me laughing about something or other, so I muted that and added Hal Ketchum just for fun. If Mr. Ketchum doesn't want me to use his music, I'm happy to take it off. It was just such a perky accompaniment.




I only took this video for two reasons: 1) It's a new video camera and I love to play with my toys; and 2) Niki is four months pregnant here, and I wanted to show her that she doesn't look poofy at all. She barely has a vollyball sitting on her tummy.

So you want a horse of your own

When I was little, I was horse crazy. I wanted to be around them, pet them, ride them, have one for my very own. We lived in the middle of Illinois in a sub-suburban neighborhood that wasn't zoned for horses. My parents didn't have much money, but none of those things were the reason I was never given the opportunity to know a horse.

My mother didn't want me around horses because she didn't like them, and thought I'd get hurt.

That made me just plain crazy. I would dream about horses, but I wasn't allowed to ride them in my own dreams. I'd wake up arguing with myself ("Gayle, you're having a dream. You can do anything you want.")

Do you know how weird that is?

Flash forward to today, when I own two horses and dream about riding them anytime I want. Life is glorious, unless it isn't.

I went to the ranch today to have a lesson on Snoopy. He was very quiet when I got him out of the stall. Didn't try to eat me. Didn't grab the halter while I tried to put it on. Walked at a respectable distance from me. In other words, he wasn't my horse.

After I groomed and saddled, then lightly lunged him, I met Niki as I led him back to the crossties. "What's wrong with my horse?" I asked her.

She took one look at him and said, "Ooo, he's got boogers."

I saw a big green mess dripping from his right nostril. "That wasn't there before."

"The lunging probably worked it up," she told me. "We'll take his temperature and watch him today."

The thermometer showed why he was being so quiet. One hundred three point eight. Normal for horses can vary between 99.5 and 101.5, so it's a little higher than humans, but 103.8 is definitely too hot. We put him back in his stall and called the vet.

Dr. Garloff came out an hour later and examined him. His temperature had risen to 104.1 by then, so she gave him a Banamine injection, drew blood for testing, and took a little nose snot for a culture. She left me with medication, instructions and a bill.

$484.50

Yes, you read it correctly. When a horse vet comes to call, it's not cheap. First of all, you pay for the call, since you can't always just throw your horse in a trailer and take it to the doctor. Then, the medications are not cheap because horses weigh 1,000 pounds and you have to use more drugs on them than, say, your pet chihuahua.

Finally, there's the testing. When I get a cold, I get some cough drops, Advil, and a decongestant. A horse cold is much more serious. It can be contagious and go through the barn. It can be something called strangles, which is a very bad virus. Snoopy has been vaccinated for strangles, but viruses are funny - you never know when one of them is going to morph into something that resists a vaccine. So the blood work and nose culture are needed to make certain it's just a cold.

So, Moms and Dads, when your horse crazy daughter (or son) comes to you wanting to be oh-so-near horses, please find a way to encourage their dreams, but think twice about horse ownership. Then do your homework on the actual cost and think one more time.*

*I love my horses and would never discourage responsible horse ownership.

P.S. By the way, Snoopy and I won our Novice Amateur Trail Class!

What fun!

We're back from the horse show. Did you miss us?


Turns out, it was as low-key as Niki had described. There were three of us (from our barn) showing, Christine with her horse Bubba, Sue and Gracie, and me and the Snoop Dog.

We got our horses ready, then Niki schooled Snoopy and rode him in the Green Trail, after which I rode in Novice Amateur. For those of you who aren't sure what a trail competition looks like, we are given a piece of paper with the course drawn on it, like this:

The lines on the paper represent poles, except the wide "H" at the center bottom. That's a gate. In real life, a course looks a lot like this.

And this.

And at Del Mar, they look like this.

At home our poles are kind of beat up and everything's plain, although we do put potted plants and silk flowers around to teach our horses not to eat them. I can name more than one horse who's taken a nibble while stopped at the gate, and at least one mare that picked the whole bush up, pot and all. Guess she wanted take-out.

So anyway, how did we do?

Mostly okay. It was, by no means, that Disney-movie moment where we suddenly do everything perfectly. But we didn't suck as bad as we could have. The lines on the course where we loped or jogged, we did pretty well. I was worried about loping the wheel – it bites me every time. I get three good poles, then either dive into center on the last one, or miss it entirely. This time, we hit the same spot on each pole and kind of sailed around like we knew what we were doing.

It was the slow stuff that needs work. Our first obstacle was the gate. You pick up the rope in one hand, back your horse and then walk them through the gate, making a U-turn. Finally, you back them to the original post and re-hang the rope.

My problem with this is, I have short arms. This was not an issue with Frostie, because she is small and we can get close to the gate without having her feet hit the feet on the standards. Snoopy is large, so I have to find that place where his feet aren't going to take out the course but I can still reach the rope. We were super clumsy with it, and by "we" I mean "me."

During the backup, we had to back around a corner. Snoopy had done this about a dozen times, so when it was time to do it for the judge, he went, "Hey, I got this" and turned before I asked. I didn't know how much to correct him. Should I have walked him forward and asked again? I made a mental note to be quicker in my reactions when he gets anticipatory like that.

As we walked over the final poles, I thought I was aiming us over the "X". Turns out, I wasn't so much, but Snoopy saved our butts, good trail horse that he is.

I still don't know where we placed overall (the trail classes were open card), but I felt good about our performance. We didn't take any pictures because we were all too busy showing.

But Niki was very proud that I was able to put on my big girl chaps and do it.