On Sunday night, Mike and I picked up Chinese food and drove out to the reservoir to eat dinner and watch the sun go down, bringing back memories of some of our earliest 'dates' together. Despite the fact that there were obnoxious teenage girls belting "Both of Us" off key from the other end of Mike's beach, we managed to have a romantic meal. The colors were definitely worth putting up with the girls' shrill cries for a little while, and they disappeared into the woods as darkness fell so we got some peace and quiet to end our weekend with. I think we need a lake of our own (or to move to a more secluded part of the country). I am happy to say that I still get just as many butterflies when I'm out there with him as I did on the first date. /mush

When Herbie got her stitches, she was on strict no-fetch orders. She kept looking pathetically at anyone who would notice. "Nobody will throw the ball for me. Humans suck," her eyes told the tale of woe.

Well, Herbie, if you would just run, get the ball, and bring it back like a normal dog, maybe you wouldn't have had to take a two week break from fetch.

This is what I mean:

C and I played Pony Pals last night and I made Mike take pictures. Both ponies seemed to be happy to be out on a hack. CP was on his best behavior and I even let him out to gallop at the end of the ride. It's nice that the once Crazy Pony can be trusted at high speed on a loose rein. I'm really falling for the charming little bugger. C seems to really enjoy coming down and riding JR, whether it's in a lesson or on a trail ride. And the feeling seems to be mutual (despite the fact that ole floppy ears has a rather droopy looking expression most of the time).

I've been continuing to train for M twice a week and things have been going extremely well.

Clarence
Clarence was being so consistent in the ring that we decided to go ahead and jump start his trail riding career. One day M saddled Doc up and I hopped on Clarence. We rode the few minutes up the street to the trail head and Clarence acted like he'd been trail riding his entire life.

He was completely unfazed by traffic and seemed content to be off the farm, seeing new things. That first day we mostly walked. I hadn't brought my whip with me so I wound up hand walking him through some of his earlier ditch/water crossings, but over all he did really well. On the way home, M pushed Doc into a canter so I could see if Clarence would do the same. After a bit of urging, he broke into an easy stride and cruised right along, completely unconcerned by the fact that Doc had taken off like a shot from a cannon. When it came time to pull up, Clarence stopped softly and easily and resumed his western-esque trot.

The following week, I had Tor shadowing me for the afternoon. The plan was to have her catch a nap in my car while I went out with M, but M offered to let Tor take Doc out for a spin if she felt like joining us. Of course, Tor wasn't about to say no to a chance to ride the Amwell Valley trails, so M got on her pony, Blue, and the three of us went out together.

That day I had my dressage whip with me, but it turned out I didn't really need it. The three of us trotted around fields and wandered through the woods. When we came to the wide creek crossing behind the air field, Clarence splashed right across, leading the way. We cantered a few times in the big field across the way and Clarence was happy to lead or follow. He never pulled and he rolled happily along, enjoying the perfect weather.

When we were heading back, we let the horses out for one last run. Doc, with a fearless Tor on board, seemed to shout, "I've been waiting all month for this!!!"

Tor shouted ahead to me before they flew by in a red blur of  churning legs. Clarence barely flinched an ear, but I wanted to see how fast he could go. With a cry of, "Go, go, go!!" I booted Clarence forward. He picked it up a gear. I clucked and he sped up again, and again, and again until we were keeping pace with the speedy chestnut. Blue galloped along behind us, trying his hardest to keep up with the bigger horses.

At the end of the field, I reined Clarence in. Without a moment of resistance, he eased back into a steady, slow, three-beat canter. The race was over as far as he was concerned.

Doc on the other hand, probably would have leaped across the upcoming driveway and kept going if Tor had let him. She was grinning ear to ear, completely not bothered by the lack of brakes.

M seemed excited at how well Clarence was doing on his early outings and I told her I felt confident that he was ready to start going out solo.

The next week I arrived to find M beaming. It turns out she took my advice and took Clarence out all on her own. He was, in her words, perfect. He crossed water, didn't spook at traffic or deer, and cantered like a gentleman. She had fallen in love with his gait and felt that she could trust him completely.

And so I'm done training Clarence. In about two months he went from being 'dangerous' and so hard to handle that M debated selling him to being a joy to ride both at home and on the trails. M is looking forward to having him be her husband horse.

Dallas
While Dallas is definitely the more fearful and traumatized horse out of the pair, the thoroughbred is making progress of his own. There was a day that he didn't want to be caught and I wound up tacking Clarence up to round him up from horseback in the pasture... but other than that, we seem to have finally made a break through.

I started doing a lot of ground work with the horse to get his confidence up and teach him some verbal commands. We started with basic lunging and you could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out how this black magic worked. When I lunge, I used a lot of body language combined with voice commands to control both gait and direction. At one point, Dallas stared very intently at me while I pointed to the right and clucked at him. His ears were up and his eyes were puzzled. Then, as if a switch flipped, he kind of snapped out of it and followed my arm with his gaze as if to say, "AHH! You want me to go THAT way!" That, folks, is what we call a lightbulb moment.

After only two sessions on the lunge line, the difference in Dallas was visible. He went from wide eyed and skittish to learning how to work through his fear and looking to me for guidance. One day I put him on the lunge line and he calmly walked out and circled around me, head down, eyes soft, ears on me. I ran him through the walk, trot, and canter, then got on him. He stood rock still at the mounting block and didn't even bat an eye when I swung on board. I was suddenly on a relaxed, obedient horse. We circled the ring at the walk, trot, and canter, and he was actually seeking contact and relaxing through his back. I was able to ride him around on a loose rein right past all the scary objects at the far end of the ring. He didn't look to the barn or his buddy a single time. At long last, he was ready for M to ride.

M has taken two lessons on Dallas now and the change in him is amazing. I think he'll be ready for his trail debut within a month. His whole personality has changed and the horse who once freaked out if you raised a hand within a few feet of his face, now comes to you looking for ear scratches.

Dallas definitely needs more time and hand-holding that his pasturemate, but we're finally starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. He's a sweet horse by nature and I can only imagine the horrors he must have seen to get this bad. I'm kicking myself for not getting before video of this horse because his turn around is really an amazing one. I need to get photos of him with M on board, looking like a relaxed hunter pony. I'll have to have her write a testimonial when it's all said and done.

I debated doing a great big 'horse update' entry, but realized that it would probably go on for miles and nobody would read it. Haha. Instead, I'm going to spam everyone with a billion entries about the various horses I've been working with.

I'll start with Jazz since I just saw her yesterday. The Swedish warmblood has been doing extremely well. She has been  very willing and cooperative lately and even sticks around after rides to mooch scratches off of us. Her owner is thrilled with her progress.

A few weeks ago we had practically the perfect ride. Jazz was soft, supple, and responsive. I've been riding her with a dressage whip. I barely need to use it, but just having it on board seems to make her more forward and less sluggish. After a warm up consisting of walk, stretchy trot, and collected canter I started working on some lateral work. Jazz was perfectly balanced and awaiting each cute eagerly and attentively. After some work at the walk and trot, I asked for some leg yield at the canter. The response was instant. Next thing I knew, we were schooling half passes at the canter. CZ was thrilled.

CZ's riding has also come a long way and she is starting to really develop an awesome working relationship with her horse. I still have to coach her quite a bit about her hands, but she's getting better and better feel and they are no longer frozen immobility in 'soup bowl position'.

Three lessons ago, CZ was really riding at her best and Jazz rewarded her with that perfect floating dressage trot. I cheered my praise and they held it once, twice, three times! around the ring. It's getting easier and easier for CZ to get Jazz into a frame and their trot work, especially to the left, has really come along.

Her big issue has been the canter. She got tossed a few times due to Jazz's past bucking issue and once she even got pretty badly hurt. Needless to say, she has some fear and confidence issues left over. We've been tackling them one by one. I got her sitting up and out of fetal position and that really helped with her balance (and lower back pain). As with the other gaits, her hands have really been the root of her problems. Where they are normally stock still, at the canter they swing wildly about, frequently catching Jazz in the mouth. The mare, who is used to getting nothing through the bit, is suddenly hit with a sensory overload. You can't blame her for being frustrated. We've been working consciously on getting CZ's hands quiet and teaching the highly trained mare that she can canter around calmly on a loose rein with no support from her rider. Yesterday, CZ cantered to the left (her bad and more fearful direction). Her hands were still, the mare was relaxed, and they went around several times before breaking back into the trot. I could see that she had been scared when she first picked up the left lead, but she finished the ride on a good note and told me that she felt her confidence slightly restored.

Jazz is moving to a fancy barn just down the street in a few weeks. CZ already cleared my coming over with the barn owner and I'm secretly hoping to pick up another client or two while I'm up there. CZ is a very rewarding client and Jazz is a very nice horse, but it's a long drive and it would be nice to make an extra penny for my travels. While CZ is in Colorado on business for a month, I will continue to exercise and train Jazz twice a week. When she comes back, she wants me to transition the mare from a strictly-ringwork routine to a part-time trail gig. With the mare's bold nature, I'm not foreseeing any problems. It will be nice to see CZ just enjoying riding her horse.As I told her last lesson, I am very proud of them both.

Because I don't have time for a real entry.

My schedule and Emily's finally lined up after a few weeks of trying. We went trail riding at Baldpate on Saturday morning. She rode Pekoe and I took Chotori. I left the camera at home and silenced the cell phone, determined to just enjoy a weekend ride in the woods. I've been doing a lot of jumping and dressage and not nearly enough trail riding. Chotori, who was a good horse to begin with, has gotten nothing, but nicer since our trip to Hawk Mountain. She is fitter, quieter, and just great in general. It was refreshing to just ride rather than training.

Last week I experienced something rare. I actually had the time to read an entire book. I chose Cutter by Laura Crum, who I originally found over on the Equestrian Ink blog. My mom instilled a deep love of mystery books in me at an early age. Cutter combines this, one of my favorite genres, with my passion for horses. I was hooked right from the get go.



I don't want to give too much away, so I'm just going to steal the online blurb about the book:
"When veterinarian Gail McCarthy finds a horse trainer dead at the bottom of a gully, she finds no shortage of suspects among the hostile girlfriends, angry horse owners, and legendary rivals he left behind."

I was fortunate enough to get some insight from the author herself about this book:
"I wrote Cutter because I wanted to describe the world of cutting horses--a world that I understood intimately. I spent many years working as an assistant to several well known cutting horse trainers, and I trained my own horse, Gunner, to become an effective cutter, such that we won several buckles and awards. The trainers, the owners, the rivalry and the shady deals--and most of all the horses--are recorded faithfully in Cutter, as I knew them in life. The landscape and feeling of Santa Cruz County, California, where I have lived for many years, is also described as true to the reality as my writing skills would permit. The mystery that forms the heart of the story, though, I had to make up." Laura Crum, author

So how did Laura do??

I have to say that over all, I really enjoyed the book! It was a refreshing change from another more recent equine-based mystery book I tried to read recently. I was warned that this book was the 'warm up' to the 12 book series. Honestly? If that's the warm up, I can't wait to read the rest of the books.

The characters in the book were well introduced and very believable. I felt like I learned more and more about each character as the book went on, without being overwhelmed by lengthy descriptions that I feel some authors use to really drive the point home. Gail, the main character, was one I really grew to like and relate to. Even though she's the heroine of the novel, she is far from perfect. I think her flaws make her that much more real.

I also really loved the addition of Gail's dog, Blue, an older dog with a few quirks of his own. He made for the perfect companion throughout the novel and I looked forward to hearing about him.

The book was also clearly written by someone who actually knows horses. When I read horse fiction, I often end up rolling my eyes at the inaccuracies and loop holes. With Cutter, I didn't feel the need to fact check. In fact, I actually learned something in the process of reading the book. Laura obviously did her research and the facts made the scenes believable.

At one point, Gail attends a cutting competition. The description of the scene was vivid, beautiful, and well-written. It made me want to try cutting even more than I already do!

Publisher's Weekly said they found the terms in the book confusing at times, but I have to very much disagree. I found the use of terms, both equine and medical, to meld smoothly into the story telling. Any new terms were casually explained. Rompin, a tranquilizer, for example, was introduced in a way that any non-horse person would get it. I appreciated the fact that the terms were used freely because it made the book feel like it was actually told from a vet's perspective. I find that first person is sometimes hard to get into, but that was not the case with Cutter. It's called knowing your audience! I found the book easy to read without it being 'dummyfied'. If I wanted dummy books, I'd go to the kids' section and pick up any random horse book, thanks.

The book featured a nice mix of action and every-day. I got a taste of Gail's day-to-day routine without ever feeling that the chapters were mundane. When Gail helped with a horse trailer crash, I actually teared up while reading about the rescue attempts.

I was really able to get into the plot and the characters. There were great descriptions of the daily dealings of a horse vet, right down to the putting up with morons and jerks. I felt like I'd met her clients myself in real life. The book also did a great job of capturing both the beauty and the toughness of country life. Talk about insight!

As the book went on, things got more and more exciting. Talk about building suspense! By the time I got to the climax of the novel, I could not put it down. Well, that's not true. I had to take breaks in between chapters because my heart was pounding! I gasped, I shouted, I really annoyed the crap out of Mike! Best of all, Laura didn't cut out the nitty gritty details that some authors tip toe around. When things got scary, they got really scary.

Best of all, the book ended in a way that was satisfying. No sudden, neat wrap up in one chapter. Just enough loose ends to make me want to continue the series, but no bits that made me feel like I was left hanging. I don't want to tell you what happens, but it caught me by surprise!

All in all, I'd definitely recommend the book to my horsey friends AND mystery lovers in general. I plan on reading the next book as soon as I have free time and I'm hoping the whole series is just as good!

Pet Photography Tip #2 is up on Team Unruly.

On Thursday, I took CP for his second dressage show at DVHA. In stark contrast to our debut, I was completely unconcerned. I knew where I was going, what I was doing, and how I should expect to fare. At the last second, I recruited Erin to be my reader. I know the tests by now, but I still worry that I'll forget something once I'm actually in the ring.

It turns out that Thursday was wardrobe malfunction day for me. The zipper on my tall boots came apart when I was getting ready before my warm up. Thankfully, Jen had a pair of black half chaps in her trailer, so that saved the day. My calves are much bigger than hers, but I made it work. Thank goodness it's a schooling show! The tall boots will need to see a cobbler before championships (and I think there's going to be an elastic gusset in my future).

My big mistake for the day was that I warmed CP up too much. I really think I bored him and wore him out before he even entered the ring for his first test. Half an hour is way too much. I think he's fine with a 10-15 minute warm up just to loosen him up a little bit. He was pretty good in the warm up. He needed to look at the banners on the rail a few times before he stopped thinking about them, but once he got over that, he was giving me good stretches of relaxed trot. We spent a lot of time hanging out by the gate with Erin. CP even gained an adoring young fan, who very politely asked me if she could pet my horse. I keep reminding CP that if he keeps being good, he can have a little girl of his own some day.

This time, Mike had a short-ish day at work and was able to make it in time for both of my tests, despite the fact that we were going off nearly half an hour earlier than last time.

I entered the lower ring for Intro A, cool, calm, and ready to do it. There was an office mix up with my number (I was signed up as 180, but they gave me 292 when I checked in), but that got sorted out right away. The judge wished me luck and rang her bell.

CP blew our entrance at A right off the bat. Despite my best steering, he refused to stay straight down the centerline. Instead, he kept drifting to the right, and missed X by a good bit before I was able to correct him. My jabs to the right side of his rib cage went unheeded. I suspect he was trying to get over to Mike, the cookie/scratch man, who was standing on the rail with the camera. Thankfully, we reached C well enough and tracked successfully to the right like normal riders.

Our first 20m circle was sloppy, and I wasn't really surprised. CP was definitely less bendy to the right than usual.

Perhaps the strangest thing about the first test was that I really had to boot CP along to keep him moving. He really felt sluggish as we made our way around the letters. I couldn't figure out what the heck was going on, and despite my outwardly calm demeanor, I felt like I had completely blown the test. I saluted at the end and approached the judge.

"You had a very nice ride," she told me.
"Really? I felt like it was terrible!"

She went on to tell me that my second circle was much better than my first and that we had some really nice moments at the trot. She also complimented our contact. I can't complain about having to push through some laziness with a pony who used to explode into the air at the mere thought of a rider.

It didn't take long to figure out just why CP was such a slug in the first test. As soon as we were in the grass, he practically crossed his legs. Before long, he found a good spot, parked way out, and took a giant pee. He'd probably been holding it since we left the barn! He grunted in relief and immediately loosened up EVERYWHERE. Much better.

My buddy from the Horse Park was riding two back to back tests in the upper ring before me, but she offered to let me sneak CP in in between rounds. I took her up on the offer, wanting to get it over with and get the pony home. The judge thanked me for my willingness to step in.

I have great news. We had halts this week! CP marched right down the centerline and stopped squarely while I saluted. Good man!!!

Once again, I blew the circle, but this time it was entirely my fault. I'm used to my 20x40 arena so when I ride in the 20x60 I make my circle too big on the first side, then do it correctly for the second side, effectively creating a ~20m egg. Oops.

I will say that I was pleased with CP's responsiveness through the transitions. It was also the first time he seemed to actually loosen up in his free walk. Progress! I finished the test feeling pretty satisfied, and with a pretty good idea of what we need to work on next.

The judge seemed to really love CP and called him all sorts of wonderful things when she heard his story.
"I will tell you," she said, "that I gave you a 9 on your trot to medium walk transition." My jaw nearly hit the ground. Our first 9!! I was delighted. "But... did you ever take geometry in high school?"
I laughed. "No, I think I skipped that one."
"That would explain it. You need to work on your circles."
"Yup."
"I think you're on the right track though. You had a very good ride. Good luck with him!"
"Thank you."

And then I got involved in some massive drama. It just wouldn't be horse showing without it.

 On the other side of the parking lot was a cluster of rigs with an even bigger cluster of snotty show kids. I know one of the teenage girls was riding in a Kimberwick and after her horse had enough of her gacking on his mouth, he dumped her and she had to be seen by the medics. She seems to be fine, but it was still a poor judgement call on the mom/trainer's part.

 At the end of the day, I saw a lot of commotion over by one of their trailers. A gaggle of people were trying to load an unruly warmblood mare, first up the back of their trailer, then up the side ramp. The poor horse was rearing and kicking out and just looked generally unhappy. Mike said something to me, but I decided to stay out of it, as usual.

That is, I stayed out of it until, about 20 minutes in, these people had the mare all but hog-tied with the lunge line and were beating her relentlessly with a broom.

 After checking with Erin that I wasn't breaking some unspoken show world rule, I approached the scene.

Very calmly I said, "Hi. I don't mean to offend anybody. Please feel free to tell me to just go away, but I trailer load horses professionally. Would you mind if I give her a try?"
The heavyset woman who was putting a chain on the horse replied, "Yes please. Just do me a favor and don't flip her over." Really, that should have been the second I walked away, but I really wanted to help this poor horse.

 As it turns out, this mare had sat in a field for the first five years of her life basically untouched. The trainer had loaded her for the first time ever earlier that afternoon. When the mare didn't immediately step onto the trailer, they lost their patience and did the old lunge-line-behind-the-haunches trick and forced her into the trailer.

 Congratulations. You had the opportunity to make a horse's first trailer loading experience into a learning experience. Instead, you just did way more damage than you can even comprehend.

 The mare was no dummy and figured out that if she stood sideways to the ramp, they couldn't physically pulley her into the box. Add the fact that they took away the horse's ability to step backwards if she became unsure of herself, and you have a mare who resorted to kicking out in protest. In the first few minutes that I had her, she tried to barge through me, cow kick me, and rip backwards away from me. She didn't succeed at any of the above, and ten minutes later I had her standing calmly with her two front feet on the ramp to the trailer.

 That's when the heavy set woman (who I realized by now was in charge of the whole operation) stepped forward and snapped, "I'll have my horse back now, thanks." She ripped the lead rope out of my hands.
Very calmly I replied, "Ok. Good luck with her. Have a good night."

 Mike was muttering darkly as I walked away, but I really thought that would be the end of it. A few minutes later, the horse was in the trailer and Mike and I were up at the show office waiting for my test results. I casually looked out the window and spotted our mom/trainer friend stalking up the hill and looking pissed.

"Uh oh, I bet she's coming up here to say something to me," I observed. I debated ducking out the back door of the office, but decided that I'm really much too old to be hiding from people who are mean.
"I don't think she knows we're up here," Mike reasoned.
"No, no... I'm pretty sure she's coming up here to yell." That angry walk is unmistakable.

 Moments later, the office door slammed open and in stomped an angry bull of a woman. She glared at me and pointed an accusing finger in my face. Mike stepped defensively between us, but held his tongue.

 "I don't appreciate the way you approached that situation," she growled. "And I just wanted to come up here and give you some feedback."

 I wanted to just apologize and tell her I didn't need feedback and call it a night, but before I could open my mouth, she tutted over me like she was scolding a dog, "Upp, upp, upp..."

 THAT did it for me. I'm sorry, I am not your fucking dog. You don't get to upp-upp me. We are both adults. You are twice my age. You are NOT going to speak to me like that. I thought Mike was going to slam the door in her face. Or hit her. Maybe both.

 She whirled on Mike, "And I see you over there, rolling your eyes and laughing because you think your girlfriend or whomever," she was practically spitting, "is perfect."
"No. I just think you need to calm down," he retorted before falling silent again.

 She went back to lecturing me. "I was trying to teach my daughter something." Yeah, I heard your brat of a kid walking around the showgrounds talking about how her pony, Chocolate, is being a real shit this week, and how 'Chocolate really needs a good beating.' Good parenting. "And I don't appreciate the fact that you stepped in."
 "Did I or did I not ask you  very politely if you wanted my help?"
"You did."
"And did I or did I not willingly give you your horse back the second that you asked?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"If you didn't want my help, the correct answer to my offer was 'no thank you' and we could have left it at that."
"Well, I just wanted to give you some feedback on your method. I'm a horse trainer and I think my feedback is valuable. You're young and you need to learn a thing or two."
"Lady, people like you call me in six months when that horse flips over and hurts somebody. I did learn a thing or two tonight, thank you. I learned NOT to approach people like you and offer my help. I need to wait until you go to far and come to me. In the future, I will turn a blind eye and ignore your struggles. Thank you for opening my eyes to the error of my ways."
"I just wanted to tell you that that mare has never kicked out at an aid before tonight. She has never reared before." Bullshit, I watched her kick and rear for twenty minutes before I finally stepped in. "And she has certainly never bled from her gums before."
At this point, I lost it a little bit. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa... I did not have a damn thing in your horse's mouth when I worked with her. I had her in a leather halter."
"Well, she wasn't bleeding when I worked with her..."
This time it was me who raised her voice and cut the other woman off, "Don't you DARE go insinuating that I in any way abused your horse. If your horse's gums are bleeding, that's something YOU need to be ashamed of and maybe YOU need to re-evaluate YOUR techniques."

 She blathered on for a while, repeating a lot of what she'd already said about offering feedback and the correct way to approach people in a show setting and blah, blah, blah...

 Eventually she got to the point (the point where she's trying to save face because she's ashamed of her atrocious behavior). "The way you handle this after tonight is very important and you need to be careful what you tell people."
"What I tell people? You and your horse are not that important to me. After this week, I won't think about it again."
"Well, I don't know what you observed or what you saw or what you thought you saw..."
"O, you mean the part where you were beating your horse with a broom?" The kid gloves came off.
"I did NOT beat her with a broom."
"Everyone in the parking area saw you beating that horse with a broom. That is NOT ok."
"O, but it's ok to hit her ten times harder than that with a crop like you were doing??"

 Anybody who has ever seen me trailer load a horse knows how ridiculous THAT accusation is. If you think I can physically hit a horse as hard with a crop as you were hitting her with that broom, thank you. I didn't think I was that strong. I'm flattered.

 "There is more than one technique, and your method isn't always correct," she continued on.
Deciding that I was done with the conversation, I made my closing statement. "Yes. You are right. There are many ways to handle a horse. It's YOUR horse. It is your job to be her advocate and look out for her best interest. I'm sorry my method wasn't well received and that I messed up your horse. Sincerely, I'm sorry." Her eyes were burning into mine, sensing the sarcasm, but unable to argue with the words without looking bad. "You got her on the trailer. Congratulations and good luck with her. I'm sure I'll see you at championships. Have a good night."

And she stormed away.

 What I WANTED to say, and might have if this hadn't happened right in front of the show secretary was, "If you want to man handle a horse into a trailer, fine. You're not quite a thousand pounds, though you are getting there, so I'm not sure you'll have much luck."

 And after watching them peel out of the show driveway, I'm not surprised the horse didn't enjoy her ride down to the show in the Box of Death.

 Next time, I'm taking pictures, finding out the so called trainer's name, and outing her all over the entire internet horse community. The photos would speak for themselves.

 The show secretary rolled her eyes as I apologized for the scene, then handed me my scores.

 In the first test, CP scored 66%, a whole percent higher than last time. He got a bunch of 7's and an 8 for his change of rein at the trot (and for his gaits). I think we may have broken 70 if he hadn't blown the entrance (our first 5. Ouch.) and if I knew what a circle was. Overall, no complaints.

 And on the second test.

 Drum roll please...

 The pony scored a whopping 73%. Again, I was left slack jawed. 8 for his halt, 9 for the transition, 8 for the free walk, 8 fo rthe medium walk, 8 for the trot transition, 8 for the other halt. 8 for rider position and 8 for rider effectiveness (although I maintain that he would be even better if I stayed out of his way).

 I think it's time to move up! Unfortunately, we're only qualified for Intro at the championships. I will be doing test C and *gasp* cantering though.

 We left the show grounds after I thanked Erin for reading and Mike for having my back against Trainer-Mom. (He says I did a good job holding my own, but he was ready to step in if I looked distressed at all.) Mike wasn't quite over the whole thing, but I reminded him that 90% of show people are crazy and that it's why I DON'T normally show (no offense to you wonderful people who do).

 But the eventful nature of the night was far from over. On the way home, we were making our way up the big hill on 31. I was in the right lane, minding my own business and talking to Erin when I heard the awful scrape of metal on metal. CP's nose ducked back into the trailer and my first response was, "What the hell? I'm nowhere near the guardrail!!!"

I could see Mike in the side mirror, swerving to avoid some kind of debris in the road.

 At the top of the hill, I put on my four-ways and started to pull over, fearing the worst, but Mike waved us on. I had Erin called him and he informed us that we had simply lost a heat shield on the truck. It hadn't done any damage and when I told Jen, she shrugged and said, "Huh. I thought I took that off already." I think truck-truck needs a good once-over.

 So there you have it. My overly-exciting foray back into the world of Dressage Queens.

Carolyn went on vacation to Puerto Rico last week. She came back with a litter of six puppies. They are what the locals call Sato, feral mixed breed dogs that wander the streets and beaches. Carolyn's last dog, Chiquita, was a Puerto Rican beach dog and she was awesome.  These particular pups were living in a shed somewhere. There are five black and one tan, five girls and one boy. They are really very sweet and will be available for adoption in two weeks or so. But on to the part everyone's here for... photos!!!

My bunny died tonight. Bryce found him when he got home. He appears to have gone peacefully in his sleep. He was six years old and had been looking a bit disheveled of late. He lived a good life and I will miss him. He can go be with his chinchilla buddy at last. :(

As I mentioned, I firmly believe that the best way to make a good trail horse is to ride the horse on the trail. Once I rode Lilly in the pasture a few times to make sure she wouldn't be crazy, I decided to just suck it up and take her out on the trail.

Our first trail ride was a mixture of good and bad.

To get to the trails from Lilly's, you have to ride down the neighbor's gravel driveway. There are two ways to get there. One is through a series of gates through the fields. The other is to walk down the street for ten yards or so. It's not a very long way to go down the road, but it is a fairly busy street. I wasn't about to get on a completely green horse that I'd only met twice and street ride her with the hope that she'd prove to be traffic safe. I'm ballsy, but I'm not insane.

On top of that, the neighbor whose driveway we have to ride down is not a big fan of Lilly's owner. In fact, he has a nasty habit of revving up the driveway as fast as he can in his Cadillac in an effort to spook the horses. He's kind of a jerk. He can't keep anyone off his driveway because it is deemed part of the trail system and part of his agreement with the township is that horseback riding is allowed on his property, but we can't make him be nice about it. Just to be safe, I decided to walk Lilly down the driveway in hand on our first outing. After all, the mare hadn't been off the farm in a few years.

The next property over, which I'll call PTF for future reference, is a small, private, and lovely dressage barn that I am very familiar with. The owners are very nice people and I have no concerns about them being inconsiderate in any way.

I ground mounted Lilly (oof!) at the edge of the soy field by PTF. She stood relatively still despite the fact that Booger was running the fence line at home and screaming her head off. Lilly only called back to her once or twice before settling down and focusing on the task at hand. Very good for any horse's first time off the farm, but especially given the history.

We got to the end of the soy field with only a little bit of urging and entered a small stretch of woods. There we encountered the Wild Shetland. I was riding through the wooded bit when Lilly suddenly jumped sideways and whirled to the right. I kept my seat, but was startled at the sudden spook. To the right, a small, fluffy pony head was sticking out of the bushes in an effort to say hello.

Where did THAT come from?!?! Lilly seemed to boggle.
I don't know, to be perfectly honest, I thought. Out loud I said, "That's an odd place for a pony."

It turns out the little guy has a paddock right at the back of PTF, bordering the trail. He must have a wire fence right along the edge of the bushes and can stick his head through the trees onto the trail. Surprise Pony!

We made our way across a few more soy fields and into the woods between PTF and where I used to board Ozzy. Lilly seemed intrigued, but not scared. She gaited along with her ears locked in upright position, looking at all the sights. I decided to take it easy and end the ride on a good note and I turned back for home  after a brief loop through the forest.

It was while we were heading home that we got into trouble.

We were almost out of the woods when the bomber flies started to attack in full force. They were really biting into Lilly and I could see trickles of blood coming through her thin, gray coat. The poor girl seems to be one of those horses who just throw themselves on the ground when the flies attack in the pasture. She was considerate enough not to do so with me on her back, but I could see her brain starting to melt as the flies dove in one after the other, relentless in their efforts to feed. Before long, Lilly couldn't take any more. She started to alternately buck and rear, throwing first her hindquarters and then her head in protest.

"If you put all four feet on the ground, I can swat them for you," I soothed, trying to get her settled. Just as she was starting to settle, however, Booger's screams reached us from the far side of the field. Lilly came unglued and started spinning and neighing.

I decided it wasn't worth getting hurt over. I was in the middle of the trails, alone. Nobody knew where I was exactly and I really can't afford to get hurt. I pulled Lilly to a one-rein stop, waiting for her to stand still and behave before dismounting. She tried to climb in my pocket with "SAVE ME" written all over her face, but I reprimanded her, making her get out of my space and lead like a lady. We walked quietly back to the barn.

The good news is that Lilly didn't seem to be upset by traffic at all.

The next day, I went back for ride #2. I had texted Lilly's owner all the details of our first outing and she left me much better prepared the second time around. I doused the mare in fly spray, applying some to my own arms, neck, and breeches. Once again, we walked down the street and to the driveway before mounting up.

Our second ride was a much bigger success. Without the flies to suck the life from her veins, Lilly was much more focused on me. We went a significant way further on our second ride and were able to break out of the walk for longer stretches of trail. Lilly remembered where the Wild Shetland was, but only turned her head to look for him instead of spooking. We crossed a scary ditch in the woods with very little encouragement and even faced our first Big Hill. Next time out, we'll tackle our first water crossing, which I imagine won't be much of an issue. As we single-footed through the tall grass leading toward home, I could hear Booger's cries in the distance. This time, Lilly pricked her ears, but didn't even quiver a nostril in reply. I think they'll both be over it in no time.

We also stopped to chat with the owner of PTF. Lilly stood calmly beside the lawnmower while I asked some questions about the property lines. PTF's owner was very surprised to hear whose horse I was riding and even more surprised to learn it was only her second trail ride.

"Wow, she's being really good!" the woman praised, and I nodded in agreement.

Lilly's owner messaged me later in the day to inform me that she has some unexpected time off at the end of the month and asking if I thought the horse would be ready for her to sit on by then. I don't want to rush into anything and I'm not making any promises, but I think it's a reasonable goal. Best of all, the mare seems to enjoy her new job and was actually happy to see me the second time I came out. She greeted me with a throaty nicker and seemed ready for business as soon as I arrived. We'll have her doing miles of trail in no time!

Jen and I happened to have some coinciding free time today because it's the week of Cancel All the Things. She texted me to ask if I could come up and ride Romeo for the first time. After some internal debate, I agreed. I am generally against riding two year olds. I'm not even a big fan of riding three year olds. I'm all about letting horses grow and mature, both physically and mentally. However, at the end of the day, I respect an owner's wishes and I realize a good start at an early age is much better than a crappy start later on.

Those of you who have been reading along know that Romeo has done a lot of ground work. I myself did a good bit of lunging and ground driving with him, both under saddle and in harness. I even threw a leg over him once to see what would happen (nothing). Jen just wanted me to hop on him and walk around for ten minutes. Why not?

Romeo hasn't done much in the last couple weeks. The last thing he participated in was a bomb-proofing clinic in  north Jersey (which Tor handled him at). He did very well and has just been out in the pasture, being a horse since then. I hadn't seen him for some time before that either.

I arrived and Romeo looked happy to see me. As usual, he stood politely to be groomed and tacked up. Jen put a dressage bridle with a double jointed snaffle on him and we walked out to the recently-fenced arena. I lunged him for a couple minutes just to make sure he wasn't feeling frisky (he wasn't). I led him around the ring to get a good look at everything and made him lead the way back.

Before long, it was time to mount. I threw the mounting block alongside of him. No response. I stomped to the top of the steps. Still nothing. I leaned on him, patted his far flank, and thumped the stirrups. He stood still. With no further ado, I swung on board. He basically rolled his eyes at me and went with it, as most young horses I've started tend to do.

The hardest part was getting him to take the first couple steps. He's so desensitized that he happily ignored my leg, standing still like a good boy. Eventually he accidentally took a step forward. I praised him and the connection clicked. By the end of our ten minute jaunt, he understood what leg meant. We did a few laps around the ring, changed direction, and did some circles. Then I dismounted. Romeo was AWESOME. He was soft, supple, and relaxed. He should make a great riding horse in no time.

Jen's niece took pictures for me.

Christine came with me last week to take pictures of Wink in action.

After Wink's initial evaluation, his true stubborn streak started to show through. The horse isn't mean or dangerous, but he is young, clever, and opinionated. He does very well on the trail, but he finds ring work tedious and boring. As a result, he is extremely gate sour and generally resistant. Unfortunately for him, he  needs ring work to better his gaits and refine his training.

Wink's owners' main goals are to slow/improve his jog and lope and teach him how to neck rein. Down the line, they would like him to trail ride alone without getting upset about the disappearance of other horses. I pointed out that we wouldn't expect a toddler to go run around in the woods alone and that, similarly, we shouldn't expect a young horse to do the same.

So far I've pretty much been drilling the same two things into Wink's head every single time I've ridden him:
 1. Relax.
2. Forget about the gate.

It seems to me (and Christine confirmed this after she sat ring-side with the owners for an hour) that Wink's owners are pretty new to horses and are basically hobbyists who know their limitations. It seems that they got this young horse because he's quiet and will supposedly be a comfortable ride. They know they don't know enough to train him on their own. They know that the horse needs consistency and boundaries. They have no idea how to set up either one of those things.

They don't question what I say and they take my advice to heart because I'm getting visible results, but sometimes it seems like they're thinking, "But that's not what we read online..." I've been doing lots of explaining and throwing out a lot of analogies and questions, trying to gauge their response and get more information out of them, but they basically just nod and 'uh-huh' along. It's very frustrating for me because I count on client feedback to help horses progress and to satisfy owners as best I can.

I spent a lot of the last lesson explaining the different things that need to happen for Wink's trot and canter to improve. I mentioned that it's much harder for a horse to move slower than his natural stride without breaking gait. I talked about the importance of relaxation and how framing up is an important part of that. I discussed how a proper topline serves to help a horse lift his back, engage his hindquarters, and soften through the poll. When I said that it takes a year for a horse in regular work to build a proper topline, I seemed to blow the owners' minds. When I pointed out that a horse who lowers his head is experiencing lowered adrenaline and is better prepared to relax, they nodded in agreement.

After some short stretches of good trot, the husband said, "That looks more like dressage." I went on about how dressage is the basis of all riding and how suppleness and collection are important across all disciplines. The owners didn't argue, but I'm not sure they really understood.

Once I was home, I did some online research and found a handful of articles that backed up the concepts I was preaching and emailed them to the owners. I think they're very literature-oriented and it might further my cause to send them articles that back up what I'm teaching.

Shortly after we got the good trot, Wink started to get tired and the husband commented, "He should be fitter than that."
I replied, "He's not out of shape, but I'm asking him to use very different muscles in here than he does on the trail with you. It's like an athlete. Like a runner, for example, who can jog for 10 miles easily, but probably can't life 200 pounds."
"O! So it's a different type of exercise?"
"Exactly!"
"That makes sense."
Ah ha! A break through!

All in all, I feel like the horse is getting better. His ground manners are visibly improving now that he has boundaries that are reinforced on a regular basis. I think he'll come along, but it will be slow going at first. Unfortunately, I think the owners have very high expectations for this horse without really understanding what needs to happen for the goals to be met. They're not equipped to do it themselves, which they understand, but which must be frustrating for them. At this point, it wouldn't even help to give them lessons on the horse because he's not trained enough for them to learn from it.

I don't think it's a case of 'green on green makes black and blue', but I do think it's a case of 'green on green takes longer'.

But enough rambling, have photos of the fluffy pony.

There's a big hot air balloon festival by Mike's mom's house every summer. He got burned out on it a long time ago and, while I enjoy seeing balloons and loved the one time I went up in one, I have no interest in going to it. We were at the house working on jumps anyway, though, and C really wanted to see the balloons. There had been delays and cancellations all weekend because of the weather, but the last night was really nice. We drove across the street to the elementary school to watch them fly. Some of them landed in the playing fields around the school and we got to see them up close for free. C took a ton of awesome photos, but I'm going to be a jerk and only share the ones of Mike and Herbie playing (mostly because they're the only ones I have). Obviously these were taken a while ago. We are taking a break from swinging Herbie around until her stitches come out.

I mentioned Lilly's half-Arabian daughter, Booger, a few entries back. The little black filly is two years old. Considering that mom's a tank of a horse and Arabians take a long time to mature, she's actually very well put together for her age. She's also an adorable mover. I will be working with her in the near future. I plan to teach her to lunge and ground drive. As mom progresses, I may even pony Booger out on a few trail rides. Nobody will be getting on her until she's three or four. For now, have some photos and a video of Booger in her paddock at home.

Herbie scared the crap out of me yesterday and ended up in the hospital.

Mike and I went out to the barn last night so he could work on one of my jumps while I rode CP and put all the animals away for the night. Carolyn is on vacation in Puerto Rico this week and I've been farm sitting. We brought Herbie with us, as usual. Mike was down in the ring, working on the jump and talking to his mom. I was walking CP down the hill to warm him up on the lunge line. Herbie was somewhere in between the two of us. Just a typical night at the farm.

Moments later, Herbie came slinking up to me, looking guilty, as if to say, "I know I'm not supposed to come up when you have a horse, but I think I did something bad."

Even from a distance, I could see a big red gash on her side. At first I hoped it was just something superficial. After all, Herbie has very little sense of self preservation and a really high pain tolerance. As she got closer, however, I could see that we were dealing with a severe wound. My stomach dropped when she reached me and I grabbed a hold of her collar. She had a deep puncture wound on her rib cage, right behind her arm pit. It was definitely through skin, subQ, and muscle. It was one of those cuts that's so deep it's not even bleeding and I could see the tissue moving with every breath.

I yelled for Mike.

Mike told his mom, "I have to go. Dom is yelling. She never yells like this. BYE!" and hung up the phone, sprinting up the hill. He offered to take the horse so I could better assess Herbie, and I tossed the reins to him as he ran by.

I palpated Herbie's rib cage and things seemed to be relatively ok. She wasn't reacting to my touch and she didn't seem to be in distress. She wasn't breathing heavily or gasping for air. She wasn't limping or crying. There were no signs of shock.

Quickly, I put Herbie in the car and caught up to Mike in the barn. I ripped the saddle off the pony, sprinted him back to the field, and pulled his bridle off. He ran around like a lunatic, probably thinking that the humans had finally  lost their s**t.

In the car, I called Brenda to see if she knew the nearest 24 hour vet. Of course this had to happen after hours during the one week that my own vet was out of town. Brenda gave me a quick answer and great directions to the CARES clinic in PA. I made record time driving there. Herbie sat in the back seat, looking relaxed and staring out the window.

We pulled into the clinic and walked Herbie through the front door. We must have looked really legit. Mike with his mohawk, me covered in barn dirt, our pit bull with her maimed tail and punctured side. At least I gave her a bath that morning so she was clean.

I could just see it now:
"You guys will have to crate rest her for a few days."
"O, we don't have a crate."
*blank stare*
"Does this mean we can't just throw her in the pit with the other dogs?

I will say that CARES did an amazing job taking care of us last night. I told them right off the bat that I work for a vet and they didn't talk down to me. When they saw Herbie, they didn't treat her any differently because of her breed. I told them she was friendly and they didn't even muzzle her. They did our paperwork quickly and had her triage'd and taken to the back within minutes of us walking through the door.

Herbie was just excited to be in a new place. She greeted everyone with a big bully grin and wagging tail. She was convinced there would be cookies at the front counter. I swear, she's the only dog I know that drags you INTO the vet clinic. After all, she was raised in several.

It wasn't long before the vet came out to meet with us. Herbie was in pretty much the condition I thought she was in. She had a clean cut, indicating that she probably hooked herself on a sharp piece of metal or something similar. We are going back to the property with a weed whacker tonight to see if we can find whatever it is. I suspect that she was playing on the foundation to the old horse barn that burned down a few years ago. She was probably chasing mice and doing her fox sproing and just landed on something. She tore right through her skin and muscle but had not broken the chest cavity.

The vet ran us through the treatment plan. She would need three layers of sutures, which meant general anesthesia. The surgery would be followed up with antibiotics and pain killers. She already had an IV catheter in. We were given an estimate. $800-900, which is right where I guessed it would be.

Mike and I filled out paperwork... that we understood the risks of surgery, that there were no guarantees, what life saving measures we wanted to allow, etc.

When I mentioned that Herbie has no sense of pain, the vet said, "I noticed that. We're sticking our fingers in the wound and poking and prodding her and she's just back there wagging her tail and giving kisses. She's very sweet. What a nice dog." She was very popular with the nurses.

We were told we needed a down payment of half the estimated cost before they would proceed. We wrote a check and went home to get cash (to go with that whole legitimate image we had going). When we got back, we had them tear up the check.

Herbie's procedure was over in the time it took us to drive home and back, and she was waking up from anesthesia when we got back to the clinic. The vet assured us that the surgery went very well. The clean edges made for nice stitching. She might not even have a scar. She did tell us that that the object had gone straight in and she only missed the chest cavity by 3mm. I nearly had a heart attack. I don't know what I would do if I lost that dog.

The total came to $950 and we paid in cash. Herbie had received a shot of methadone and IV antibiotics. She is on rymadil and clavamox. She didn't need an e-collar because she can't reach the wound site.

Before long, Herbie was brought out to us. She was still pretty woozy, but she pulled the tech right over to us, tail wagging. She just wanted to crawl into Mike's arms.

Herbie needed help getting into the back seat of my car. She still didn't have full use of her hind end, and she was visibly off balance. We drove home very carefully. Herbie was still very stoned. She swayed slightly in the back seat, seemingly mesmerized by the blinkers on the truck next to us. "Ooooh, flashing lights..." When we got home, she got halfway down the hall to my room before she sort of got 'lost'. I think she was trying to remember where her bed was, or where she was going. She went straight to my room and fell asleep on the floor.

I know she wasn't feeling well last night. I heard her whimpering in her sleep in the night. I really didn't sleep a wink. This morning she got in the bed with us, and I know she wasn't herself because she wasn't hogging all the space. Instead, she just sort of made a pathetic ball against the wall. She hates her meds, but takes them because she's a good girl. She really wanted to go with me this morning when I left for the barn, but I'm leaving her home until the stitches are out. It broke my heart to leave her.

Right now she's sleeping on the patio in the back yard, enjoying the sunshine. There is some swelling, but the wound site looks good. Clean, no drainage, and really well stitched.

I'm glad this didn't end worse than it did. I'm feeling some guilt about taking her with me instead of leaving her home last night, but I didn't know. I am thrilled with CARES and the way they handled our whole case. It was much better than the disaster with Red Bank when Bryce and I were trying to take care of the chinchilla a few years back.

My poor dog is really not having a good month.

 You read that right! I went to a dressage show.