She's back!

Niki's back! Niki's back! Niki's back!

Hi, I have some news: Niki's back. She started back part-time a couple of weeks ago. She's got one more week of part-time, then she'll be back mostly full-time. She won't be at the ranch on Wednesdays because her day care can't watch Tyler that day.

Meet Tyler Addison Owrey:

This is a picture of him in his baby-bucket stroller, while I pushed him around the ranch. You see, for a couple of days, I was his babysitter at the ranch while Niki worked horses (yes, she's back to riding). I told her I was willing to do anything to get her back to work. Of course, it didn't hurt that I thought it would be fun to hold a baby again. It was.

And now Snoopy and I can get back to work!

You can teach a horse to do a lot of things

They may have been taught to bow, but their feelings are their own.

I miss you, Niki!



Ziggy/Henry and Jet are BFFs

Since Niki has gone out on maternity leave, I have been doing horsey day care duties. This is how my first week went:

1. On Wednesday, Monte the farrier came and shoed several horses. NOTE: Monte is a VERY good farrier.

2. An hour after being shod, Frostie was not just lame, but two-legged lame. She is very sensitive about the nail placement. Monte had to reset the nails, pour iodine into the holes and give her some bute.

3. I gave Ziggy (renamed Henry) a turnout and spent an hour washing the dirt out of his coat, not to mention the dreadlocks I had to comb out.

4. On Thursday, Cody threw the shoe that Monte had put on Wednesday.

5. While we were waiting for Monte to come back out, Sue's horse, Gracie, decided she did not like her new shoe and started limping.

6. As an act of solidarity, Elliot started losing the packing out of one of his shoes.

7. I tried all week to ride Snoopy, but by the time I got all the horses done each day, I was tired and there was no one around to hear me if I fell off. I don't require a lot of supervision. I just need to know I won't lie in the arena, moaning, for more than an hour before someone finds me.

8. Cody also broke out in hives again, so I had to medicate him and monitor that.

9. Elliot, again feeling the need to be in with the In Crowd, developed grunge all over his butt that had to be scrubbed.

After a week and a half, I texted Niki. "Your job is hard."

I'm sure she's still laughing about that.

At the end of today, I got an interesting phone call from a lady interested in riding lessons for her two sons, seven and twelve years old. I explained our program: a one-hour private lesson which consists of learning to groom, and ride.

"So, how long is the actual riding," she asked.

"It depends upon how quickly they get the horse ready, but usually it's 30-40 minutes."

"And how many lessons until they know how to ride?"

"I can't really say. It depends upon their motor skills, balance and focus."

This eluded her. "But how long on average would you say?"

"I have no average. I have some students who are fairly proficient by the fourth lesson. Then I have some that take months."

"Well, how long are you out on the trails?"

Trails?

"We don't ride on trails. We ride in an arena."

"Oh, an arena," she said. "Like for racing?"

"No, there's no racing." I've never had to explain an arena to anyone, but I tried. "An arena is... a dirt area surrounded by a fence."

"Oh, okay." Then she stunned me. "Well, let me talk to my boys to see if they want to do this. They've never even seen a horse."

I'm fascinated: She obviously had no knowledge of riding, and her sons had not requested this activity. What possessed her to think of trying this?

Stay tuned to see if she calls back for an appointment. In the meantime, I miss you, Niki!

A new chapter begins

I have two trainers, Tina and Niki. They are both very good at their jobs. Most of the time, I work with one of them until we reach one of those sticking points where we're no longer communicating. Then the other one takes over. It's kind of like tag-team wrestling.

Last Christmas, Niki made a surprise announcement: she was expecting. It was sort of a surprise because for the several years I've known her, she's told me she didn't want kids.

I kept telling her to never say never.

I didn't want kids until I was around, oh, Niki's age. Then I understood the importance of having a family, and the sheer gamble of raising a child, with its risk of losing it all to heartbreak with each time you hit the jackpot.

Niki and her hubby were told they probably wouldn't get pregnant without medical intervention, so they prepared for rounds of drugs and shots and fertility rituals. Before they got to that, however, Nature intervened.

Niki lunging Ziggy

I had no idea I'd be so excited by her pregnancy. I've only got one kiddo. Hubby and I tried for more, but the baby factory was closed. So I've got 18 years of experience at child rearing, not to mention 9 months of pregnancy, that I have never been able to use.

It was lovely to be able to tell Niki what was normal and what wasn't, to talk about having a C-section (the doctor thought it safest due to an earlier surgery), to let her know it was okay to be terrified of bringing a newborn home and not know what to do with it. I sent her an Internet article about C-sections and babies. The best part of the article advised her, for the first two weeks, to have three things on her To Do List: take care of the baby, take a shower, brush your teeth.

She told me it became her mantra. Baby, Shower, Teeth. Baby, Shower, Teeth.

The last week

As she got closer to the due date, lessons got more demanding. Tina is currently dealing with a grandson who had a bone marrow transplant (aplastic anemia) in addition to running the ranch and teaching dog obedience, so our training sessions may be sporadic. I'm trying to be flexible, but Niki knows I will be riding Snoopy under less supervision than before. She was determined to teach me how to tell when he was out of frame and how to correct him immediately when he wants to be a lazy butt.

On Tuesday, her last day, we had a helluva course, out in the sweltering heat. I did a lope-jog-lope sequence until I was nearly blind with exhaustion. But we got it. Afterward, there were lists of things for me to do. I'm taking care of horse day care while she's away. We went over the list of who gets a turnout or lunge when. We went over a lot of things.

After I went home, I got a few more texts, going over a few more things.

Wednesday and Thursday were spent with more texting. At one point, I sent her a picture of Ziggy the pony's mane. It was in a hot tangled mess. "This is his mane one day without you," I said. "He looks like Ziggy Marley."

She wanted to know what the farrier said about the horses. She called the people who needed to be told about their horses' feet. She worried about us.

And then Friday morning, they wheeled one woman into the operating room and wheeled out one woman plus one baby. Little Tyler was here!

I had joked with Monte, the farrier, that after Friday, Niki would be saying, "Ranch? What ranch? I got a baby!"

Some people speculate she won't want to come back, but I think she will. I loved my son (still do), loved being with him, but needed a scheduled break from him. I wasn't used to being around babies. It allowed me to do what I used to do and know who I used to be, and his day care provider gave me another expert to call upon when I wasn't certain what to do with him.

We're, of course, going to do everything we can to transition Niki back to the barn, even if one of us rocks the baby while she rides. We're gloriously happy for her and her hubby, and can't wait to meet Tyler.

If in a couple of months, she thinks she just doesn't want to get back in the saddle, we'll accept that. But I really don't believe it. After all, how can she leave this face behind?

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.