Acceptance

Acceptance.

It's a hard thing.

That ability to take what life brings and recognize, embrace it for what it is.

This has been the summer of acceptance for me.  This has not come without its bumps and bruises.  I had made a number of goals and statements earlier in the year.  And life happened.  While I had wanted to work the dogs every day.  This just didn't happen.  You see, in June, I had "all day sickness" not just "morning sickness".  It literally was all I could do to get through my work day and work commitments.  This meant the dogs were not ready for the summer competitions.  And that, quite frankly, depressed me.  A couple of weeks ago I hauled the dogs two hours down the rode to take a lesson with another trainer.  We talked about aspirations for them.  Mine of course.

I have accepted that Ryder wants to be an agility dog.  I won't force the stock work on him and will renew my focus on taking agility classes.  Diva.  I'll do my best to get her trained and maybe try her at some field competitions next year.  Realistically, in a year or so I'll be looking at buying a trained stock dog.  I just won't have the time to train a pup into a working dog.

I have accepted that my dogs are basically well loved pets.

I won't lie.  I tear up and cry whenever I think of Whiskey.  This has been the hardest thing for me to accept.  I LOVE this horse.  I love her eye.  I love her attitude.  I love her sweetness and kind spirit.  But love isn't going to fix her.  My dad's diligence has really improved her mobility.  So when I went out last week to meet the farrier I was stunned to see her hobbling around.  With no physical evidence of an abscess or bruise it meant it was just normal navicular issues.  I went home absolutely torn.  If she was that lame on a lovely summer day, what would happen in the winter?  I've begun to seriously consider if lame equates to pain.  Is she truly so stoic that she doesn't demonstrate any traditional signs of distress?  She is unequivocally lame.  No debate.  But she doesn't show signs of pain.  I've worked with lots of injured horses and know they generally display some behaviour and physical signs when they hurt.  So I flip - flopped.  Is lame the same as pain?  When is the right time to say goodbye?  I would rather euthanize her too soon than reach an emergency situation and be too late.  My friends say she'll tell me when she's ready.  The problem is I don't know.  Has she?  Has she told me and I just haven't been listening?  A large part of me knows that leaving her is more for me than her.  Am I being selfish?  Within the next few weeks I'll make a final decision, but I'm leaning towards letting her go.  I've found out that a person can get them cremated.  This means I'll pack her ashes, just like I pack Tessa's until I can find a place where I feel right about leaving them.  For now, I can't bear to say a final good bye.

Counting

Some days I seriously question my wisdom.  Literally in the space of weeks I went from two horses to a quickly multiplying herd.  I had been looking casually for a kids horse for quite some time.  When Sweetie became available it seemed like the right horse for the right price.  So I jumped.  She comes home at some point in August when her foal is weaned.  

Then came the Whiskey saga.  The knowledge that she had Navicular and had it to the extreme that breeding her wasn't going to be an option sent me into a tailspin.  The truly funny thing is I thought I had accepted that fact that she was going be a "downer".  Nope.  Clearly not.  It's extra hard because due to my dad's impeccable care she's actually improving.  She is demonstrably less lame.  

I began the pedigree research.  Trying to find another Whiskey.  Nope.  No such luck.  What I did find were some distant relatives.  Thinking that was my only option I began process of looking towards purchasing something along those lines.  

And then I stumbled across this gem.

This black mare is Whiskey's 1/2 sister (dam side).  Initially thinking I'd get the mare with a 3 in 1 option I began negotiating.  Then, deciding I was completely crazy, I decided there would be waaaaay too many horses.  So I bought the foal.  The black filly will come home to me in the fall.  I can't wait. This little girl needs a barn name and a papered name.   (I've asked to do the paperwork.)  Here is her pedigree.  It's not overly fancy, but that's not why I'm bringing her home.

So here's the summer tally.

Whiskey - undetermined what will happen with her.  If she continues to improve, and is happy and comfortable - who knows how long she'll be around.

Marnie - off getting bred to Pegasus.

Sweetie - arriving in August.

No Name - arriving in the fall.

I'd like to point out that brings my horse total from 2 to 5.  Just say'n!

Opened a Can of Crazy

I had one of those weeks.  Where my inner Horse Hoarder ran rampant.  I just could not let go of the conversation I had with my farrier when he said Whiskey should have one last baby.  It haunted me.  Whispering in my ear.  I fell over the edge when I went out to work the dogs and Whiskey was so incredibly lovely.  I became obsessed.  Stallion research commenced.  The vet was phoned and her x-rays were sent to my farrier to review.  I told him I needed his professional opinion.  Would she handle being able to carry one more foal.?  In the days it took for him to respond I blew through $30 of AQHA records, and narrowed down a stallion choice.

And then it happened.

My farrier responded with his first negative comment about Whiskey.  After reviewing the x-rays he felt breeding would cause major trauma and break down.  Not being able to breed her safely and comfortably means no baby.  Based on his reaction I realized her days were a lot more numbered than I thought.

I cratered.

My obsessive behaviour reached epic proportions.  I sent email after email, message after message, desperate to find relatives to her.  I begged to buy back her filly.  I just could not imagine a world without her.  Without carrying on her genetic stamp.

Trust me.  I get it.  Her breeding isn't remarkable.  It's not trendy and it's not full of performance earners.  What it is is full of history.  Full of horses with athletic ability and outstanding dispositions. Those horses have been proven in an entirely different way.

It was somewhat surprising to discover these horses hadn't been overbred.  Whiskey's mom had four foals.  Her sire had five.  Granted she was the last of the lot.  Sold off as a two year old during a dispersal sale.

Back to my crazy.

One of my many emails reached gold.  The lady who owned Whiskey's dam had bought a number of Bar U horses.  Tonight we had a lovely conversation.  It was fun talking with someone who knew the history.  Who had actually tried to buy Whiskey as a yearling - owner refused to sell - and loved these horses as much as I do.

So, my hoarder tendencies are still in fine form.  I may have... done something crazy... and made a tentative agreement to buy a yearling.  From the Bar U lines.  I'd like to go look this July.  If she looks good, I'll buy.  The current owner is a little quirky.  She's mailing me copies of papers and pictures of the filly.  But that's okay.

What's a little sketchy is the crazy I seem to have landed on....

Lovely Girl

My Marnie girl is learning how to move in frame.  Not quite steady but getting there.  She makes me happy.  It was a great way to spend day.

Please excuse Honey's stinky video skills.  Enough to make a person sick!

Reminiscing

I've been looking back at and reading through some of my old posts.  It has made me think.  If I had to do it again, would I do it the same?

Yes.  And no.

I've been reading up on Border Collie working dog training, pedigree and health information posts on Facebook.  It's made me think a lot about my own journey.  In some ways it pisses me off.  There are people out there with so much information and knowledge.  But I've found it's like pulling teeth to get them to share.  Now, as a lurker on these sites I'm discovering how much there is to know and how little I really do know.  For example, there are lines with genetic issues.  People know these lines.  I do not.  They say if you want to know you can find out using the internet.  That's nice.  Using the internet does NOT tell me what dogs not to buy or breed to.  I'm left wondering how exactly do you know you have purchased a "good" puppy?  Pay someone to buy it for you?

This brings me to Reba.  Would I have bred her?  Knowing what I know now, probably not.  Knowing what I know now I probably wouldn't have bought her.  But if I hadn't bred her I wouldn't have learned as much as I did about dog and puppy development.  I was talking with a dog trainer who works at the local Humane Society.  She tells me that reactivity is highly genetic.  Basically, that I shouldn't feel bad my dogs are reactive because it's not my fault.  You can do everything you're supposed to and still end up with reactive dogs.  Because of their genetics.  Nice.  Again, this is something no one talks about.

As I look to the future this is vitally important to me.  You see, next year I'd like to get another puppy.  My dogs will be 5 moving on 6.  It takes a long time to develop a new dog.  As I plan on buying a puppy I'm trying to learn as much as I can now to try and prevent the learning curve being so nasty.  I want a dog that has a good off switch,  has power on stock, a trainable mind, and a fun and happy personality.

As I looked through my horse pictures there were some keen regrets.
1) I would have kept Izzy and put her in the training program.  Sold Roxy.  I never loved Roxy.... but kept her because she had the nomination into the futurity.
2) I would have kept Guinness.  Love that little man.
3) I would have kept Whiskey.

Looking forward, I consider my horse options.  Right now, I love the cattle stuff and I love jumping.  I'd love to get a hunter/jumper prospect.  I'd also love a neat cutter prospect.  I'm such a control freak that it makes me feel better to have them from early on.  This way I know what has been done with them.

Ugh.  Some days I think life would be so much more simple if I wasn't obsessed.

Pictures: Finally!

It's been rather chilly the last few weeks.  Today the farrier came out to trim the horses.  I bundled up and had a great visit with him.  While the horses got their pedicure the dogs ran wild in the yard.  They raced, and raced, and raced.  I thought I'd be smart and bring my phone so I could snap some pics... well... the phone froze.  So no pics of dogs but I did put it in the house to warm up so I could grab some horse pictures.  It was a balmy -18C here this morning.  (About 0 F.)

I love how fuzzy the girls are.  They are snuggly and cuddly.  I would have hopped on Marnie for a ride but I'm not flexible enough to get on bareback in all my winter gear.  

Progress? Or Lack Thereof?

It's been a long, busy month.  The weather here has actually been reasonable.  When Dad returned from his vacation from Mexico he dug in heels regarding Whiskey.  He has decided that she should not be put down.  I get his point.  Her eye remains soft and relaxed.  While she is most definitely lame, she is NOT as lame as she was last winter.  Dad has put out round straw bales for her to set up housekeeping at.  He's also created a straw path to the waterer.  This seems to have helped her as she's no longer drinking when he carries a bucket of water out to her so she must be drinking from the auto waterer.  The goal this winter is to keep her off the hard ground on soft footing.  To keep her weight at a healthy level.

I tried and tried to explain to him that she will NOT get better.  That there is permanent damage.  I may end up doing x-rays in the spring just to show him.  I've decided for the time being that we'll continue on - status quo.  Until she seems to not be able to manage we'll leave things be.  In spring I'll reassess her.  Things always seem so much easier in the spring and summer.

One never knows what the future will bring.

Love

I've always believed that love is not enough.  You can love as much as you want but you still need to be reasonable, thoughtful and respectful.  I'm someone who loves animals with a capital L.  They feed my soul and bring serenity and balance to my life.

Today, love is not enough.  I can love Whiskey to the moon and back.  I do love her to the moon and back.  The simple truth is there is not enough love in the world to fix what is wrong with her.  On this cold and blustery day, Sam - the vet came out.  She wanted to rule out an easy fix.  Something like an abscess.  We stood in the cold wind and talked.  I'm not going to lie.  I've been around horses for a long time.  I know, deeply and intrinsically, when something is wrong.  And something is wrong with my beloved mare.  The vet thinks it's likely a broken bone in her foot or a torn suspensory.  We can do x-rays.  We can "de-nerve" her.  We can put on corrective shoeing.  But to what end?  I asked if x-rays would help.  Sam shrugged helplessly.  She said they would just tell us definitively what's wrong, not fix her.  Basically there is no fix.  I trust my vet.  She is skilled, experienced and maintains up to date practice.  She is a life long learner.  I trust my vet with my horses life.  All of the options presented don't change the outcome.  They just change the timeline.

We are looking at quality of life here.  My hope had been that she could manage to be a companion for Marnie.  The reality is that's not going to happen.  We're going to hobble through the next couple of weeks.  Feeding her bute, carrying her water, and leaving her snuggled up to a round straw bale.

I need the time to line up things.  My first choice is to get a back hoe in to dig a hole so Whiskey can rest at the farm.  The back hoe will be significantly more expensive but will bring me peace of mind.  Less desirable but possibly necessary will be to "book" the rendering truck.  Once I have the after care in place, I'll make an appointment to have Sam come put her down.

I love her enough to do the right thing, even though it's the hard thing for us humans.  Some days it sucks being responsible.  

Setbacks??

As I opened up Blogger and scrolled down through my reading list I saw Liz's Setback post.  It was perfect timing for me to read and for the thoughts swirling around my head.

My dad called tonight.

This has been the first week of winter.  No one is acclimatized.  Not me.  Not the dogs.  Not the horses.  Dad called to tell me he's been taking buckets of water out to Whiskey who is now refusing to enter the corral area.  He said she's having a hard time walking.

Dad can be funny about stuff.  The neighbour never did water his horses.  Snow is fine and all that hooey.  He also never did feed unless it was a particularly deep snow winter.  I won't comment on what I think of his horse care practices... Anyhow, said neighbour and dad are buddies.

Big sigh.

Our conversation tonight centred around why water is necessary to maintain a healthy horse.  (There is an automatic waterer the horses have access to - Whiskey is just not walking to it.)  It then shifted to my dad telling me that Whiskey needs shoes.

Huge sigh.

Go figure.  They guy who wonders if it's necessary to provide fresh water wants to put $120+ shoes on a pasture horse.  That's plain shoes and pads, without the necessary borium for winter traction.

This thought led me to Liz's post.  Which was perfectly aligned with what I was thinking.

The horse shoes.  Are they for the horse?  Or for my father?

I won't lie.  I'm really worried.  Is this just a blip?  A rough transition to our frozen world?  Or a forecast of the future?  Can Whiskey realistically handle our rough winters?

What I do know is I'll be driving out tomorrow to see how she's doing.  I'll bring another can of Venice Turpentine.  We'll start there and see if it helps her tender toes.  I've also placed the farrier "on alert".  Bottom line - is the right call to the vet or the farrier?  Because if I can't keep her sound enough to survive then I'll do what's right.  Regardless of how it'll hurt my father who loves this horse with every fibre.

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

I've had an interesting week.  I have a respiratory infection that has me grounded at home.  This has caused a variety of stresses in my life.  On the other hand, I was able to get to the vet before it closed to collect up more meds for the dogs.  Sam, the vet, just happened to be in the clinic when I showed up.  

The Good

If it involves the dogs, then it is in the good column.  My two little shits, er, darlings will be going to their first competitions to herd sheep.  We're going to Mayerthorpe to compete in the Alberta Stock Dog Association Arena Finals.  We'll be competing in the Ranch category so hopefully it will ease our way into the competitive world.  My mentor Ken is the judge which will likely not work into my favour.  I'm expecting to get a stern talking to after the competition.  That happens Monday of next week.  Immediately following I am entered in the Farm Fair trial.  We'll be competing in the Open category and this is where the big guns compete.  I am fully anticipating these competitions will be a learning experience and will help drive the training that the dogs need.  Ryder is about 95% trained and Diva is about 90%.  We're so close I can feel it, but certainly not at the level needed to be successful at competitions.  

Other great dog news is that I've found a different agility instructor.  We've been diligently working on our homework and the dogs are progressing nicely.  We start classes in November and I'm looking forward to a different teaching approach.  I've learned through the years it's always best to get different perspectives.  I was really pleased to hear her talk about Diva's potential.  Normally Diva is my Black Sheep.  

Speaking of Diva... she has officially started a diet.  Her metabolism doesn't seem to be awesome and she is and always has been on the chunky side.  It doesn't matter how much exercise she gets.  I took the dogs with me when I went to pick up their meds.  I weighed them.  Diva weighs in at 50.6 pounds.  Ryder - the larger dog - at 52.4 pounds.   I'm now feeding on a "time" schedule with separate dishes.  Diva gets less food plus some pumpkin to provide filler.  In December the dogs are due for their vet checks.  My goal is to see how effective the diet was.  We'll weigh her again at that point.  If she hasn't shown much progress I'll ask Sam to investigate possible causes.  

Also in the "Good" column is THIS HORSE!!!

I love her.  She fits me like a soft leather glove.  To be honest she is knocking Whiskey from her number one perch on my favourite horse list.  Her papers have been sent off to be transferred.  Every Saturday in the month of October I hauled her into Gorseline Stable and took a lesson on her.  She is so smart and willing to learn.  We started with ground poles.  Last Saturday she was trotting over cross poles.  My coach thinks she's going to have nice jumping form.  In the spring I'd like to send her for a month jumping training there.  That way I know my inexperience doesn't hinder her ability to learn how to do this.  

I also purchased an English saddle.  It's a Santa Cruz which isn't the top of the line brand, but it fits her and it fits me.  It's a great starter saddle that I can use to ride her in.  Eventually I'll purchase something fancy like a Luc Childeric.  My "new to me" saddle is in excellent condition and was super cheap!  I am notorious for scrolling the Facebook horse and tack pages.  I found a lady who was dispersing 75 pieces of English tack and equipment.  From her I bought two English "flash" bridles, complete with reins, gloves, and a new bit to try on Marnie.  All for $120!  I'm thrilled because they are all quality pieces.  I'm still watching for English pads, a sheepskin pad to fit under the saddle, new leathers, and jumping boots.  (I'll get pictures of my new saddle and post them soon.)  

The Bad

My ankle is seriously messed up.  

I have been going to the physiotherapist once a week.  Realistically I should have taken a lot of time off work.  I am blessed to have good benefits but always feel slightly guilty taking advantage of them.  The knowledge that I worked when I didn't have to is how I'm justifying taking time off next week to compete with the dogs.  My therapist has currently cleared me to begin yoga.  (Except I'm now stupidly sick.)  He also tells me that riding is good.  Go figure.  Walking, not so much... My ankle remains wrapped to help manage the swelling.  When I'm at physio they put me into the icy compression boot.  I'm struggling with remaining positive about this.  I'm frustrated that I can't exercise.  

I'm convinced the lack of exercise and increased work stress is destroying my immune system.  I've gone to a Naturopathic Doctor who has done some blood work to look into food sensitivities.  My guts are notoriously nasty, even with prescription meds.  My regular doctor thinks I may have food allergies, even though I've had clean allergy tests.  (I've been tested six ways to Sunday...)  I'm currently limiting to eliminating milk from my diet with interesting results.  My blood work results are back and I have an appointment next week to find out what they came up with.  

The Ugly

Yesterday I talked to Sam about Whiskey.  I showed her pictures of her standing - with shoes on.  I told her what the farrier thinks.  Basically, it comes down to this.  The vet sees no purpose to do x-rays.  She has said that there is a list of things we can do but to what end?  This is a horse who is now a pasture ornament.  She really feels that Whiskey sustained some sort of suspensory injury while she was gone.  This is causing havoc.  Her suggestion was to leave her be.  As long as she's not being asked to do anything or is not suffering then we maintain her.  She will not be bred again as she can't handle the weight (and the vet would not support a breeding in her condition).  As it is, we're working diligently to pull the weight off of her.  

I'm a bit torn as to what the right thing to do is.  Option A:  leave her to be a companion.  Give her bute on her bad days.  Keep up with maintaining her via vet and farrier care.  Option B:  Euthanize her.  

As her eye is soft and she doesn't appear to be suffering I'm inclined to leave her to be a companion.  When any of her conditions change, or my ability to provide her the care she needs change, then I'll make a different decision.  

It depresses me to see her hobbling around the field.  Last Saturday she actually loped a few strides, with a snort and a buck.  This is so unusual to see in her these days.  I remember when she raced the field for fun.  

I won't lie.  I fully regret selling her baby this summer.  Selfish of me, I know.  

I know she'll be a great nurturing Auntie to any baby that I happen to have on the place.

Marnie

I really don't know why I try to name my horses, as my father tends to just do it himself.  Marmalade has now become Marnie.  When I told my dad my name ideas he just looked at me and said in his matter of fact way "Well, I've just been calling her Marnie."  And that was that.  Marnie it is.

Marnie has had a stretching couple of weeks.  I've learned a lot about this little horse.

A couple of weeks ago my brother and sister-in-law were up for a few days while my brother worked in a local community.  They brought their brood of 3 kids.  They kidlets are 4, 2, and 4 months.  I had gone to the farm to work the dogs.  Both of the mobile children are animal crazy and I offered to lead them around on the horse.  (They already ride the sheep.)  They were PUMPED!  With no helmet and no boots and no child saddle I decided bareback was the best route.  Dad led the mare around while I walked beside hands on waists to ensure safety and balance.  This was the first time I put a child on Marnie.  She was great!

On Saturday I hauled her to the jumping stable I ride out of.  She was saddled English and rode in my lesson.  She was great!  She handled everything in stride and with grace.  I am so pleased with this horse.

Today my other brother and his brood, a 4 year old boy were out.  The little monkey was keen to ride but scared.  My brother insisted I saddle the horse.  So saddled, with precious cargo aboard we began making circles in the field.  After the first few laps he relaxed and was thrilled to be riding a horse by himself.  The mare was fabulous.  Her ears were almost straight back as she listened to him chatter away.  Her head relaxed and her eye soft she patiently walked endless laps carrying the little guy.

I am thrilled with her kind attitude and her willingness to do this.

Playing with Names

I've been playing with names for little Miss Marm.  She's soooo not a Marm....  sooooo...

I've thought about Brandy.  Does she look like a Brandy to you?

I've thought about Reba (red hair and all).  But I had a dog named Reba...

Then I wonder about Doll, Miss, Chick.  And I just can't decide.  As of right now, Brandy is the front runner name.  I plan to "test" it out when I go ride this afternoon.

Serenity

I'd been fighting a mild case of the flu.  Telling myself that it was just stress I drove out to the farm, worked the dogs before dragging out the horse.  Deciding against any "real" riding, I tossed on the hackamore.  This is what I want to ride Marm (still unnamed) in for pleasure.  I could feel tension fall out of my shoulders as I worked on having the dogs handle being rode in the field with the horse.

Ryder is terrified of the horse, and Diva is determined to work her.  It took some work to get Ryder to even come into the field.  It took more work to keep Diva from Dive Bombing Marm's heels.  Neither dog have had much exposure to horseback riding but I'd love to ride in the grazing reserve with them.  So I took my crabby tummy as an excuse to sit and train.

Fall is one of my favourite seasons.  I love the colours, the dry ground, and the gorgeous sunsets.

Marm in her hackamore outfit.  She's doing ok with it.  I think with some more riding practice she'll do fine.  My goal is to have her riding steady enough that in the winter I can toss it on, and hop on bareback for a jaunt through the snowy fields.

Looooong sunset shadows.  It's been ages since I've seen my horsey shadow.  

Thinking Deep

I've spent a lot of time in the last couple of weeks thinking.  You see, Whiskey is pretty lame.  Gut wrenchingly so.  Her right front is turning in in a bizarre twist.  My farrier and I talked navicular.  We talked about x-rays.  I began to wonder.  When does this become a situation of throwing good money after bad?  When does this become about me and not her?  Mentally and emotionally I held it in my heart to do the right thing and put her down.  I had about made up my mind and I called the vet.

As honey and I sat talking while we ate our evening meal, I spilled out all my fears and worries.  Calmly, not even skipping a beat he told me not to be hasty.  To wait a while and not jump into a decision.  What he didn't do is point out the money I've been pouring into this horse.

The next day I sat with my parents as we ate.  I told them I was worried about Whiskey.  Mom puts a hand on my arm and tells me to give it time.  Dad's brow furrows as we discus the coming winter.  We plan what we can do to make her more comfortable.  The tentative decision becomes one to give her the winter.

I won't lie.  I'm very worried about her handling our tough winters.  I'm the person who has a box with her old faithful dog's ashes.  I can't commit to a place for her to rest.  So she goes where I go.  It would destroy my soul if I couldn't plan Whiskey's final resting place.

I won't lie.  I'd love a baby from her.  A future jumper prospect.  I get it .  It costs more to breed than to buy.  Breeding is a crap shoot.  No guarantee over what you'll end up.  The horse business has no room for sentimental feelings.  Sigh.

No firm decision yet on the breeding front.

Because I sit and I pray that I've made the right decision.  That Whiskey will be okay.

Compliments

This July I started taking Jumping lessons.  When I was younger jumping wasn't something that interested me.  I far preferred to do pattern work and dressage type stuff.  In short, I'm a jumping novice.  I've taken a handful of jumping lessons over the years.  My instructor at the stable I'm riding at gave me a very nice compliment.  She said the trainer (a very accomplished jumper) thought I was good and wanted to know where I came from.  Jen told her I'd been everywhere.

I've got to admit, when Jen told me this I rolled my eyes and snorted out a "Ya right."  You see, I'm horrifically out of shape.  I can feel my body flop when it should be solid.  Jen insisted.  She said that they could see through my out of shape flops and see the seat I possessed.  She went on to explain that I'm unique in the fact that I have a well rounded background.  It made me think.

When I was young I learned how to ride bareback.  Farmer style.  My mom didn't believe in saddles.  I didn't ride in a saddle until I was 4-H age.  4-H was my first introduction to riding "proper".  It was somewhat surprising to learn one didn't just kick and pull.  I began taking lessons.  For the most part I rode Arabians and competed in the local shows.  I rode in an English saddle and progressed on to some Arabian "A" shows.  I want to be clear.  My family did not have a lot of money and most of my horses were not the reliable school master type.  I literally learned how to ride in the school of hard knocks.  Sometimes I'm astonished that I stuck with it.

As an adult I decided that showing was horribly boring so I began to branch out.  I bought a school master rope horse and learned how to rope.  For the next ten years I immersed myself in the cowboy and rodeo world.  I moved out into ranch and oil country, well away from the commuter acreage area I grew up in.  There I hooked up with (not in the hook up sense - haha), an old cowboy who ran a small ranch complete with a stable.  He was an alcoholic and full of character.  Back in the day he showed and trained reining horses.  Here I learned how to train a rope horse and began schooling in basic reining maneuvers.  This barn became my home away from home.  I shovelled shit and had my pick of horses to ride.  I began "finishing" ranch horses he owned to pay for my board.  I was in horsey heaven.  I also had some pretty huge wrecks complete with hospital visits during this time of my life.  The final hospital visit would prove to be a blow my confidence would never recover from (3rd degree concussion).   I had learned how to start and finish a horse the cowboy way.  My roping was progressing complete with competitions.  We had even tossed around the idea of me riding a horse in the reining class at the Canadian Supreme.  (There was a glorious Palamino stallion called Yeller that was good enough to go.)

At one point the cowboy lifestyle got to me.  I had had enough and I moved home.  Back to civilization.  From this point on I rode purely for pleasure.  I would do various things like take the odd jumping lesson or spend a summer turning back for cutters.  And I still love going out to Ken's and spending the day doing ranch work off a horse.  Pure joy.

Fast forward to now.  Now I'm slightly bored but still highly pressed for time.  I have a horse to play with - Marm - thank you Jesus.  After Marm arrived I had some serious swings in what I wanted to do with my horsey self.  I could not make up my mind.  I want to cut.  No I want to jump.  No I want to show Arabians.  No I want to... you get the idea.  The problem is reality can be a bugger.  What can I realistically do?  What can Marm realistically do?

The outcome?  With the trainers compliment ringing in my ears, (I really do have an eclectic background.), I think I'm going to focus on riding Marm English.  Rationale?  Marm likes being rode with contact.  Loves it. I have access to high caliber trainers and lesson programs close to my house and dad's farm.  And jumping challenges me.  It's hard for me.  It stretches my abilities.

And FYI: Marm needs a new name.  She's not really a Marm and I have a hard time getting it out.  So even though I hate the idea of renaming a horse, a renaming shall occur.  Once I figure out what name actually works for her.

Horse and Dog Days

Last week I drove to Ken's.  I was bone deep tired but didn't want to "waste" any of my time.  My back has been screaming at me as I work at getting back into shape.  Some nights I've resorted to taking some dope so I can sleep through it.  I know it'll pass but right now it's an ugly situation.  I wanted to work the dogs with him.  I was up at 6:30 and at the farm by 7:15.  I hitched and loaded the trailer with Marm.  Who for whatever reason I keep trying to call Bacardi.  Go figure.  We drove the 2 hours to Ken's.

It was raining.  Crabby, I put on my rain clothes and spent the next 4 hours working dogs on sheep.  Diva is making wonderful progress.  Ryder, not so much.  We broke for lunch.

I will admit to being pissed off at the world.  I really, really, really wanted to ride and it was raining.  And then God smiled.  The clouds broke and the sun began to shine.  Ken and I spent the next 4 hours doing horse stuff.  I saddled up and rode Marm.  Ken watched and made idle comments on things he thought would help her.

And then the fun began.  I got off and Ken hopped on.  He started up his flag and introduced it to her. I wasn't surprised to see her bulge her shoulder out and push through the stops.  But then she got it.  He'd relax into the saddle and she'd start to roll over her hocks, flowing with the flag.  Her head carriage improved.  She rounded her body and began to "sweep" the turns, legs crossing over cleanly. She began to look at the flag.  Watching to see what it would do.  In short, she looked like a cutting horse on a flag.  I was STOKED!  This was a stunning development.  I never thought she'd be able to move cleanly like that.  Immediately I began to reevaluate my plans for this horse.  She's 15 so who knows what level she'll be able to work towards, but come spring (I want the winter to leg her up.) I think I may get Jason to dump a month into her.  This gives me a horse with some training on a cow that I might be able to go ranch cut on.  Time will reveal her secrets.

A Surprise Ending

Whiskey provided a surprise ending last Sunday.  With virtually no signs other than being lightly bagged up, during a snow storm and cold temperatures, out in the field, she foaled.  It's a lovely and correct little filly.  Initially I had thought I'd want to keep this foal as a Whiskey replacement.  Guinness was a lovely baby.  He was quiet, gentle and by the one day mark I had mauled him and loved him all over.  This little baby... not so much.  She tucks her tail and prepares to buck when you try to touch her.  Whiskey is also much more nervous with this baby.  Less enthused with anyone attempting to touch her baby.  It's interesting to me how different things are.

Two Hours Old.

I haven't wrote much about Whiskey because I've been worrying about her.  You see, due to the neglect she experienced she was very lame on her front.  I've had reports that her feet were six inches too long.  This has caused some tendon/ligament damage.  I'm hopeful that with the baby weight now carrying itself around that she'll start to feel better.  She's getting regular trims and I also have a lady coming out to do some massage/muscular work with her.  I'll keep you posted once I hear what she thinks.  

Now I wait.  

I'm leaning towards selling the baby, I'm not in love with it's temperament and its a ghost of my mistake in letting these breeders have Whiskey.  Another negative is I wasn't in love with it's half sister (Roxy).  I may be best served in taking the time and money to fix Whiskey up, breed her next year (I'm thinking either a rebreed to Guinness' dad or to a Painted River Ranch stud.) and get my "riding" horse that way.  I'll wait out the summer and see if more time helps.  

More pictures to come...

A Little Love



Whiskey is looking pregnant these days.  I was out at the farm, in my town boots trying to convince her to come visit with me.  But alas, she decided she should remain on the straw pile rather than stomp through the mucky goodness that is an Alberta barnyard in the spring.  She is shedding copious amounts of hair.  It cracked me up how short she looks in this picture.  (She stands a comfortable 15.3 - 16 hh.)  I'll have to measure her properly one day. 

 

When I stand and watch, I wonder.  I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl.  I wonder when she'll foal.  I wonder what color the baby will be.  I wonder if I'll fall in love and keep it.  Honey and I've talked about it.  Me keeping it.  If it's a filly, and I can find someone to play with it the next year or so, I'll keep it.  If it's a colt I'll work at finding him the perfect home. 

 

I'm impatient.  I want the baby, hooves on the ground. Now.  

 

 

Home

12 hours.

Over 1000 kilometres.

Home Sweet Home.

Whiskey is home.

Selling her was hands down one of the stupidest things I've ever done.  It was a mistake.  What I now have sitting in my field is a horse who has major, major skin nasties.  A horse who has not had her feet done in at least 6 months.  A horse who may or may not be bred.  A horse who is not nearly as plump as a horse coming off summer pasture should be.  And a horse who has a bizarre indent along her rib cage.  That being said, I also have a calm good natured and friendly mare sitting in my field.  I've placed a call to the farrier and am waiting to hear back.  The vet is coming on Saturday to preg check her and give me some guidance with the other things going on.

I have a new appreciation for my honey who drove with me.  Who also looked at me and never questioned my need to have this horse back.  I could not bear it if she had ended up in a meat pen.  She will live out her life with me.  I love this horse so much.  I spent much of my free time standing beside her, scratching her and breathing in her sweet horsey scent.

And that my friends, is priceless.

Big Girl Pants

I've had to put on my big girl pants and make one of the hardest most heartbreaking decisions.  There comes a time when you need to be an adult and make decisions that aren't necessarily best for you but are best for the animals in your care.  That is what I did even though I do feel like crying.  You see, I've been so stressed and so worried about all the things on my plate that I came to the decision that something had to give.  I've been feeling as though I haven't been doing a particularly good job at anything.

This is not a decision I've made lightly or rashly.

I've been extremely worried about Guinness.  I've been worrying about how he's ready to work with yet sits in the field because I don't have time to work with him.  I've worried about sending him out for training, getting him back and having him sit, because I'll be working on school and working on work.  I've worried about Guinness ending up wasting away.  I love him so much.  I can see so much potential in this great little package.

So I sold him.

I didn't sell him for much.  I was more concerned about finding the right home.  He's gone to a home that is super excited to have him.  A home with teenaged girls who will love on him and develop his potential.  A home that wants to keep him as "their" horse.  A forever kind of home.   The kind of home I'd like to provide but can't at this time.