The Neck Bone's Connected to the...Oh, Whatever.

When Trainer told me the equine sports therapist was coming today, I got a little excited. I'd heard about this guy from several people, who all had rave reviews. Trainer was pretty certain Therapy Guy could get Rain in while he was at the barn, so even though we didn't have an appointment, Rain got to take her turn having her body manipulated and adjusted.

She was a little resistant to the whole process at first. Some of the horses that got done ahead of Rain where returning clients, so they knew the drill. Guy rubs you all over, guy pulls at your head, yadda yadda. No sweat. Rain was like "Oh sweet mother, why are you turning my head like that?! Why are you touching me there?! Animal cruelty!"

I was pretty fascinated by the whole process. "So what does pushing there do? So that muscle ties in to that vertebrae?" And so on.

He did sing my mare's praises though. At least about her physical appearance. Her lack of standing still left something to be desired.

"Her coat looks great," he said at one point.

"She's got good muscling," he announced at another.

"She's gorgeous. She's put together really well."

I halfway wanted to preen and titter like a mother hen. Like I planned the breeding that resulted in her. Like I haven't had a shit-ton of help to get her to where she's at.

Apparently her 5th vertebrae was out of alignment, and he popped that back in. But other than that, no major issues. He did have to do some decompression on her neck vertebrae. At one point, you could her her neck pop. I know how nice it feels when my neck pops, so it must have felt wonderful to her.

He asked me how old she was, and about her breeding. I told him, Storm Cat on top, Mr. Prospector on bottom, and she just turned 5. At hearing Mr. Prospector, he nodded his head sagely. "I've met alot of horses bred that way from working on horses at the track. They take awhile to mature."

I cringed internally. "Oh?" I queried.

"She probably won't mature mentally till she's 7 or so."

At that point, I wanted to bang my head against the wall. In my head I was thinking, 'Oh sweet baby Jesus, how am I going to live through another 2 years? I'm struggling half the time already, and I've only had her 6 months!'

"Oh, jeez," I responded. And forced out a chuckle. I wanted him to think I found that humorously exasperating, not terrifying.

"I bet her knees aren't even closed yet." He did something to her knees. "Nope! Not closed yet! She's still got some growing to do." He eyed her withers. "I bet she grows another half a hand."

It was then that I was ready to do more than bang my head on the wall. I was pretty sure I might just ram my head through it. Two more inches?! No! She doesn't need to be any taller. She's already the tallest horse I've ever ridden. I told him that I hoped to God she would not grow two more inches. He laughed at me. In my head, I'd gone fetal.

And that's pretty much how I'd left the barn today. Two more years, and two more inches. She's got more growing to do, and I've got more big-girl-panty-putting-on to do.

Say "Ahhh!"

So I've had this...thing...lump...in the back of my mouth behind my molars for the last couple of days. It almost feels like a tooth is trying to erupt. But since I'm, you know, well past the teething age, and my wisdom teeth have already been removed, I had no idea what it could be. I touched it, and messed with it with my tongue, and squeezed on it (painful), to try to see if anything (like pus) would come out. No dice.

So at the barn today, as I'm handing off a saddled horse to Trainer, I say "Dude, I need you to look in my mouth at this lump I have. And see if it's like an abscess or a...something...or what it is." It's totally normal to have a trainer who is, well, your trainer, plus your (equine) dentist, plus your boss, right? That's totally normal?

Anyway. Trainer is a certified equine dentist, and being that I currently have no health insurance, I figured she could at least peer in there and see if she saw anything. An abscess is an abscess, across species lines. So later, Trainer/Dentist/Boss snapped on some latex gloves, fired up a flashlight (her iPhone flashlight) and stuck her hands in my mouth. Well, a couple of fingers, anyway (don't be a pervert, people). She poked at it, and prodded it, and declared that it's way harder to work on small human mouth than a big horse mouth, and finally told me there was nothing she could see. "It's inflamed, but I can't see any abscess or wound or anything. If it's not better in a couple days, I'll look at it again."

I wish I could better set the stage for how this must have looked. One woman, several of her fingers in the mouth of another woman, both standing in the middle of a barn aisle. Yeah, sometimes being a horse person is kind of freaky.

Anyway, I had a lesson before the mouth shenanigans went on, and Trainer took this bit of video.

I'm happy Rain looks good. I have some questions about myself, though. For example, why do I post funny? Also, why do my arms look ram-rod straight? They feel bent when I'm riding, and they must not be completely awful, or Trainer wouldn't hesitate to call me on it. But moving on. If you compare this video to the last video of Rain from several months ago, she looks about 1000% better. Hooray for progress!

Wind

As is probably evident from the title, we've had a lot of wind lately. Tucson can't decide what weather it wants to be. Monday it was in the low 80s, Tuesday the same, Wednesday it was in the 60s. And the wind started. And it continued through today. As a result, Trainer decided she didn't want to expend a ton of effort today (because wind makes Tucson horses dumb, and we'd expended effort on the preceding windy days) so most horses just got turned out. I was OK with this, because lunging umpteen horses wasn't really high on my most-favorite-thing-to-do-on-a-Friday list.
This is Rincon being turned out in the round pen. The barn she's at requires supervision of turn out, so I'm hanging out, "supervising."

This is my toe, post-Kermit. Not broken (most likely not broken, anyway). But I did lose half the nail. Have a disgusting picture of my gnarly toe, and associated gnarly flesh. 

A Hot Forge and a Field Trip

The shoer came out a couple days ago and did a bunch of Trainer's client horses and some of her personal horses. I ended up holding horses for what felt like forever. I'd never seen a shoer hot-shoe before, and took the opportunity to take a photo of a red-hot horseshoe. According to the farrier, for a shoe to glow red-hot, it has to be at around 2000 degrees. I don't even want to think about what kind of damage 2000 degrees could do to one's skin.

Then the ponies went on a field trip. When I texted my friend and told her I wouldn't be making it to a dinner for a mutual friend that evening, I told her it was because Rain was going on a field trip, and she responded, "Your horse is going on a field trip? Will she learn anything? It this an educational field trip?"
I chuckled to myself and answered, "It is an educational field trip. It's called 'learn to have a brain when off the farm.'" Rain has to learn how to hang on to her brain when away from the farm, so she got to ride along to a barrel racing practice. She was actually surprisingly good. She was in the company of Leo, a barrel racing and traveling veteran, and Cara, who is not a veteran of anything. I'm proud to say that my mare did as well as, if not better than, Cara (who has been hauled to events a couple of times before). Rain met cows and foals and a hot walker.

She thought cows were dumb and ugly and smelly and good-for-nothing. Wait. Maybe that's just me projecting my feelings about cows onto my horse. Oops.

Leo is ready to go "turn and burn."

She didn't break anything or kill anyone, so I consider the trip a success. She stood tied to the arena, and only dug a small hole. It was more long and shallow than deep, so it was easy to fill up before we left to head back to the barn.

Rain stands next to Cara, before Trainer and I oh-so-cruelly made her stand by herself.

In solitary on the other side of the arena.

Hair Envy and Road Shots

I've spent the last 5 days helping Trainer in the mornings. I usually work about 3-4 hours. I am the lunging queen (minus the fact that I can't handle a lunge line to save my life - free lunging is where it's at, man). I've also washed tails, and saddled and unsaddled horses. Pretty standard groom stuff. I am sunburnt as all get out, and am all "coon-eyed" where I'm burned around my sunglasses, and white where the sunglasses cover. Yeah, it's pretty hot, not gonna lie. 

Lustrous locks!

One of my favorite horses to work with is a giant, affectionately called Kermit. Kermit apparently competed in the high levels of the Appaloosa world, and was a top contender in "Appaloosa Saddleseat." Prior to meeting Kermit, I had no idea the Appy world had such a thing - but apparently they do. I watched a YouTube video of a class. To me, it was a snoozefest, kind of like watching Western Pleasure or HUS. But to each his own. 

Kermit is huge, pretty much the biggest Appy I've ever met. When I first met him, I actually thought he was a warmblood- he's that big- and he's got massive bone, and he's super handsome. In short, he's kind of my equine crush (even though he stepped on me [and likely broke my toe] while I was attempting to bridle him). I spent an inordinate amount of time the other day washing and brushing and braiding his tail. It's long and thick and full, and it gives me hair envy. Curse the gingers for having the best hair! 

But on to stuff about Rain.

My last entry earned me a scathing, early-morning text message from Trainer (who apparently was somewhat disgusted when she read said entry), the jist of which was that my horse is easy in terms of green horses, and I need to put my big-girl panties on and get over it. She had developed an extensive plan for my horse, that basically starts with lots of round pen work on the ground. So I've been round-penning for the last few days, and side reins are apparently going to factor hugely into the plan. Her text message told me to stick with the plan, and everything would work out. I told her the other day I needed a pep talk, not an tush-reaming text. She was a little indignant. "That was a pep talk!" 

"Dude, no, that was not a pep talk. That was you ripping my ass and telling me to stop being a pussy."

"Well, OK, so it was a little of both."

Agree to disagree on that. 

I think she enjoyed being out.

But today, I did have a nice ride. Started off with about 10 minutes of free lunging, then I saddled her. In a move that was either kind of brave or kind of stupid or some combination thereof, I rode Rain off the property, by myself. It wasn't a long ride, but it was pretty calm. No outbursts, no death and dismemberment. She was look-y, but not bad. And we both came back in one piece. I managed to take one picture, just to prove we were out there and I was still mounted. 

When Do You Throw in the Towel?

I've thought alot about whether or not to publish this entry, largely because it's so depressing, but also because it shows you my inner coward.

I had a lesson today. Rain spooked at some people having a jumping lesson in the arena next to us. I came off. I wasn't hurt, and I popped right up to join my trainer in the chase for my mare, who was running back to her stall, tail flagged and snorting.

I said to one of the other boarders, "Dude, I am so tired of coming off of this horse." I have listened to more than one person tell me that my mare is a handful. Saying she's a handful is a nice way of putting it. I have made "unplanned landings" off of this horse more times in 3 months than I ever did in the 3 years I spent leasing other horses. She was easy when I first got her; she was at least 100 pounds underweight, and had no energy. She's pretty much up to weight now, and feels good. And while I'm extremely happy that she no longer looks like a rescue case, and I'm glad that she feels good, sometimes I wish she still lacked the desire to go faster than trot.

During a walk break in my lesson today, I confessed to Trainer that when I ride lately, I spend so much time being scared that I accomplish pretty much nothing when I school. She acknowledged that she could see that. I asked what I'm supposed to do about it. Her suggestion was to essentially keep Rain's brain occupied well enough in schooling (through transitions, direction changes, etc) that she won't get a chance to act stupid. In theory, I get that. In practice, telling myself to push her forward when all I want to do is go fetal is another story.

I know that all of these issues we're having could be solved with more training (preferably from a professional). If I had the money to put her in full- or even part-training, she could move past this stuff. Unfortunately, I lack the money to put her there.

Here is a completely unrelated picture of my adorable, rescued-from-the-pound Catahoula, Tuffy.
Crashed out on the sofa.  Tuffy has been my best buddy for more than a year now. She's pretty much my baby.

I had high hopes that I could bring Rain along myself. I've been questioning lately, though, if I lack the skills and the cojones to do it. I feel like I spend so much time being scared when on my horse, that I fail to have fun. We have fun moments, but they're overshadowed by the fear. And I know well enough that falling off happens, and that riding and horses aren't necessarily always fun- sometimes they really suck. This hobby costs me way too much money not to have fun doing it, at least not to to be enjoying it most of the time; particularly when I don't have a job.

Rain is the first horse I've ever owned. Getting my own horse was literally a dream come true for me. I've leased and shown other horses, and I've taken lots of lessons on other horses. I've been riding for the better half of my life. But this mare confounds me; the reality has fallen a little short of the dream.

Which brings me to the title of this post. When do you throw in the towel? If you don't have the experience/desire/money/motivation/whatever to deal with a particular horse, when do you say "OK, both horse and I would be better off without each other"? When are you just a quitter, and when are you doing what's in the best interest of you and the horse? Rain has the potential to be an awesome horse for someone. I'm just wondering if that person is me. I hate the idea that the thing I waited for for most of my life may not be right for me. To say "OK, I finally got my wish, but now I'm thinking that I did the wrong thing." That is extremely hard for me. I love horses, I still want to ride, I still want to have my own. I just don't know if I chose the right horse for me. Admitting that maybe I made a mistake in choosing this particular animal is hard to contemplate; admitting that maybe I'm in over my head. Where she would go if I did get rid of her; if she would end up in a bad place, is a completely separate issue, and another fear.

Random Goings-on

Nothing really noteworthy going on with Rain lately. She did buck me off last weekend, after spooking at  nothing-I-could-discern. Silly, obnoxious pony. As a result, I bought a new helmet (because I've had enough unplanned landings in the old helmet, that a new one was probably warranted).

In non-horsey news, I walked off my job the other day. I worked at a garbage company (no, I did not drive a garbage truck -- that would probably have been way more fun than my actual job of customer service) and had been wanting out since my last supervisor left. Occurrences last Wednesday were pretty much the last straw for me, and after almost two years there answering some of the dumbest questions about trash I have ever heard, I handed in my resignation.

It was not the most rational move I've ever made, considering the giant, furry, financial obligation that is my horse (on top of rent and other bills). I'm terrified, to be completely honest. I have bills; I have responsibilites; I have animals to feed. But. I have faith that this it's truly going to be OK. I'm a college graduate, I was a Dean's List student, and I'm a certified substitute teacher. Theoretically, I should be a pretty good job candidate. I'm confidant that, while it may be hard for awhile, it'll all be alright. CJ is being super-supportive, and I'm so grateful to have him in my life.

Upon learning that I was no longer employed - gainfully or otherwise - Trainer said I could lunge and saddle horses for her in exchange for lessons. I figured, as long as I still have my horse, I need lessons. And lessons cost money. And money is something in short supply in light of my joblessness. So lunging and saddling it is. Then she said she might consider paying me in exchange for work, which I figured was even better. A little money from part-time work is better than no money at all. Working for her would be a pretty cool opportunity, since I'm sure I'd learn something from her; beyond what I learn in the normal scope of my lessons.

I'm scared, but my outlook is positive.

I Could Never Be a Trainer

There are myriad reasons why I couldn't be a trainer, and yet admire the heck out of trainers. I'm going to list some of them in no particular order.

1. I don't have the accolades/experience/balls. Good horse trainers have a ton of experience, have demonstrated achievements in their chosen discipline(s), and have brass cojones (regardless of gender). I lack all of the aforementioned. 
2. Good trainers are patient. I'm still learning how to control my temper. A good trainer keeps a rein on their temper (at least in front of horses and clients). It's taken me this long just to figure out how to try not to get mad at my own horse - let alone not get mad at someone else's.
3. Effective trainers are tenacious. They keep at it until they get it. While this sounds like a good life-trait, I have encountered few job skill-sets that require tenacity in the same way training does (at least in my eyes). Can't get the right lead? No problem, we'll keep after it for at least another 30 minutes. Probably we'll get it by then. I lack that - can't get the right lead? Dang, let's try another 2 minutes. Still can't get it? Let's eat a cookie and contemplate our navels. I hate to make it sound like I'm a quitter - I really try not to be. But maaaan - sometimes shit gets old after awhile. Eating is where it's at.



Thar she glows!

4. Trainers can play the game. Sure, lots of other jobs require you to play the politics-game, but I have seen some trainers turn on the charm in a knock-you-over-at-100-paces level. And clients eat that up.
5. Confidence-enstilling. To me, a good trainer inspires confidence, and helps you grow. 
6. Trainers play therapist. Your trainer probably knows more dirt about your personal life than your mother. And yet they can keep their mouth shut about it. Don't anger your trainer; he or she probably knows exactly where you actually were when you told your wife you were at the country club -- and who you were actually with. 
7. Trainers have a whole lot of advice - only some of it probably relates to your horse. Listen to most of it though. 

It's Not All Rainbow-Farting Unicorns

I was having a discussion with a co-worker today about owning a horse. He said he had one as a kid, but that they're too much trouble, and cost too much money, and he'd never own one again. I wanted to be indignant at first; they're not trouble - they're amazing animals, they shit rainbows and kittens, totally, right!? I got to thinking about my last blog entry- I made it out like I go around perky and optimistic about Rain all the time. Yeah, I love my horse, yeah, we're making progress. But it's really not all flowers and puppies and whatnot. And I would hate to misrepresent the fact that, she's a horse, shit happens.

The reality is, they kinda are trouble. I'm not saying the trouble isn't worth it, but they kind of really are trouble.

Rain is not amused.

At our last barn, Rain developed the exceedingly pain in the ass annoying habit of pulling back. I lost a lot of good lead ropes that way. And she got away. Every. Single. Time. The barn owner freaked out every time Rain pulled, worried that she was going to pull the hitching rail out of the ground. It got to where I barely had time to girth my horse to prevent the saddle flying off in anticipation of when she would decide to pull back...when she'd decide to pull back.

Fast forward to the new barn. Rain continued to pull back. Trainer ties a lead rope onto my rope halter (can't use a buckle halter, she breaks the hardware). Rain pulls back. Rain somehow manages to break the rope. Not pull the knot loose, no, she breaks the lead rope. The rope snapped. It's taken a couple months, and a couple more leads, to get my mare to reliably tie. I wouldn't say yet the habit is broken. But she at least thinks twice now.

During our pulling-back phase, she broke Trainer's thumb. Chipped the joint, in fact. Trainer somehow got her hand in the rope, mare pulled back, thumb snapped. Trainer notes that she thought it was just dislocated at first. Occupational hazard of being a trainer, after all. She popped it back in. Then came the swelling. X-rays found a chipped joint. Good job, Rain.

My horse has also managed to throw out a horse shoer's back, and bucked me off so badly that I limped for 3 weeks. In describing my condition to a friend right after it happened, my fiance said "Yeah, I think she's fine, it's just...every time she tries to walk, she cries."

I love my horse. Truly, I do. But horses aren't for the faint-hearted, and they ain't necessarily fun and frolic all the time. They're bend you over and rape you out the butt  really expensive, they're time-consuming, and sometimes they're just outright annoying.

Small Victories

Rain and I, with the assistance of our trainer, have been making progress. 

In a move that has proven to be positive for pony and I, we moved to a new barn. Here she gets turn out twice a week, fed 3 times per day, and someone is around to watch her and all the boarded horses 24 hours per day. The other major benefit to the new barn is that it is a primary barn for Trainer, so I get to take a regular, once-per-week lesson on my horse. The other thing I enjoy about the new barn is that it has a very active, friendly clientele. There's frequently someone to ride with or talk to, and everyone is extremely welcoming. 

While Trainer is slightly miffed that Rain doesn't yet go in any semblance of a frame, I'm happy with our progress. I have a horse that I'm not scared to ride, that I can ride without lunging first, that I enjoy spending time with. She's not a crazy OTTB. We make progress forward, she's an eager-to-learn, kind horse. I figure that, as an amateur working on a re-training project, we're doing pretty well. I take pride in the fact that I'm the only person who rides my horse; that aside from our once-per-week lesson, any progress we're making is a personal victory for us. Rain is not in full-training; she's not be re-trained by a professional. I'm an amateur, learning as I go. So, you know, I take our knocks as we get them and take our victories (however small) as we get them, too. And I'm OK with that.