In which my horse convinces me that he’s dying

Yesterday, Kinetic convinced me he was dying.

I got off work early and decided to pay the old man a visit since there was some actual daylight left. I get to the barn and find him laid flat out in the pasture, third eyelid rolled up, making groaning noises.

Oh shit.

I poke and prod him, and he doesn’t pay me any attention. This, coming from the horse that doesn’t tolerate any disturbance of his rest. He’s never allowed me to take that really adorable picture of the owner sitting on their horse while it’s drowsily napping on the ground (you know, this picture); he’s always stood up before I could even get my camera out, and usually twitches an annoyed ear in the bargain. I mean, Kinetic was down.

At this point, other horses are coming over to sniff him and he barely lifts his head in recognition. My horse, who hates other horses invading his space, is letting himself be nose-molested by curious pasture mates.

Oh shit shit.

I immediately think colic, but gut sounds are fine. No temp. No grievous injuries that would precede shock. Capillary refill is good. No signs of neurological trauma. I’m wracking my brain for other signs and symptoms to check. Meanwhile, Kinetic is still totally unresponsive to anything…only the occasional groan and twitch to indicate he’s still alive.

Just as I’m about to start hyperventilating, Kinetic gives a massive groan and shudder.

Oh shit shit shit.

This is it. I’m convinced my horse is dying in front of me. I have the phone out, ready to call the vet/coroner/neighbor with shotgun, when Kinetic sleepily blinks his eyes, yawns, rolls to his feet, and gives me a condescending “what are you staring at?” look.

When I left, he was happily munching grass in the pasture.

I guess he was just really enjoying his old man nap in the sun. Jerk.

Chicken Fried

Whenever I hear the Zac Brown hit, I’m instantly transported to three years ago.

It’s probably a favorite snapshot of my life in Colorado: driving in the camo Jeep with my buddies, singing like fools at the tops of our lungs, windows rolled all the way down, sun glinting on the reservoir, purple mountains in the rearview mirror and golden Cottonwoods flanking a twisting road in front of us. No cares. Just smiles. Companionship.  Worn boots. Good times that aren’t yet memories.

 

Yeesh I’m feeling sappy and nostalgic.

Reminders

The other day I had an insanely spectacular ride; it was one of those rides that remind you why you put up with the naughty ponies, late farriers, lameness frustrations, and depleted bank accounts.

Pony was forward, relaxed, and actually thinking instead of merely reacting. She was happy, and because she was happy, I was happy. We ladeeda’d around the arena for a little bit, and then because it was FIFTY FIVE FREAK’N DEGREES outside, I decided to give her a break from the arena and go on a trail ride. We ambled along the irrigation ditch and she was a little rockstar. We had a few spooky moments when a herd of dairy cows decided to launch themselves en masse at us (I would spook too, this was seriously an overwhelming number of cows), but she always came right back to me and settled down as if nothing happened. When we got back to the barn, I couldn’t quite convince myself to dismount - it was too nice of a day- so we went on another trail ride to the feedlot. I do love the Western mentality that says, “Heck yeah it’s alright to ride a three year old for three hours if it’s fifty degrees outside!” 

Pony definitely has the makings of a cowhorse. She locked onto those little steers and tracked them as much as the fence would allow. There was an adorable few minutes, however, when the steers and Pony took alternate turns spooking at each other. Angel would trot up to the steers, who would bolt, which would cause her to spook in turn. She would trot back, a steer would sniff her, she’d spook and cause the whole herd to take off. They went on like this for a few minutes, sniffing-snorting-spooking, simultaneously fueled by both curiosity and baby uncertainty.

I love my pony.

Driving back from the barn, the world felt right. I was driving my truck through a cornfield, a saddle riding shotgun, dirt on my hands, mud on my boots, sun setting over the Rocky Mountains, and the radio blaring. Sometimes, when I can block out the thoughts of bills and a looming thesis, life is good.

Oh Jeez….

My last entry was almost a month ago ?!?!

Eek! Once upon a time I was a regular blogger, and hopefully I’ll get reintroduced to that person who had both the time and motivation to write, as well as the type of life that was worth writing about. I doubt you guys want to hear about the Victorian Evangelical movement’s influence on proto-feminism and subversive gender politics in animal literature. No one? No takers?

Quick re-cap of the last month: finished all my papers (barely, and not proudly), went to SoCal for the holidays (warm, homegrown oranges), went to North Carolina to visit friends (fun, much tequila), and have only been back in Colorado a few days (Jersey shore marathon, unproductive lump).

I’m now gearing up for my last semester of grad school (!!!) and am on a massive job hunt. I’m eyeballing everything from being an office assistant for a Wyoming cattle ranch to doing market research for an IT company in Boulder.

Ponies are doing great, although they’re pretty convinced that my two week absence means they’re officially retired. The little one told me, in no uncertain terms, exactly how she feels about being ridden again. The second I forget she’s three, she reminds me in a big way.

Stock Show tomorrow, woohoo!

Drowning in final papers. I think I’ve hit my wall; I’m at the point where I don’t even care about caring. I’m just trudging through sentences at this point, trying to not write anything too idiotic and just hit the page minimum.
Ugh.

Budget #4

Tack store: – $4

Needed the saddle soap, and I had a $10 gift certificate.

Gas: -$15

Rent: -$400

Util: -$18

Total: Don’t want to do the math. Very aware that output greatly exceeds input.

Budget Day 4

Sold something: + $75

In effort to get some extra cash, I’m taking inventory of the things that I have, no longer need, and could potentially sell. I live pretty leanly, so there isn’t much extra. I did find a few things though, including an instrument that I never use. Unfortunately, the only person who was interested in it lives about 1.5 hrs away, so I decided to meet them about halfway. This cut into the profits about $15. Oh well, it’s still $60 I didn’t have before, and one less thing cluttering my room. Now I’m going to try to sell some barefoot boots ($100), school books ($20), summer tires ($250).

Chinese talke-out: -$20

Blech. So I took a friend along with me to do errands the other day and locked my keys in the truck. In an attempt to ameliorate her frustration at having to delay her life for an hour and a half while we waited for AAA, I told her I’d buy her dinner for her troubles.

Budget Day 3

Inside Arena Usage- $10

My barn doesn’t have an inside arena, so we haul to a public use one. It’s a lovely heated arena with awesome footing, so I’m not opposed to spending the $10. I try to limit that expense to once a week though. $140/mo for horse facilities is pretty damn fantastic.

Library- $30

Whoops. Apparently a book I borrowed from the library got lost in the shuffle between moves. No bueno. I hate expensive life lessons.

Things I did right: Made chicken stock with the leftover roast chicken bits, didn’t go the bars and instead saved money and got some good sleep

Budget Fails: Library

Living the Dream

 

View of the horses from my kitchen window.

Childhood dream: Accomplished

Perfect Pony Pants

I’m so proud of little Pony Pants.

After a reining “trainer” fried her little two year old brain, Angel learned to resist going forward. Because she was overworked and never released and rewarded, there was absolutely no incentive for her to do the right thing. As a defense mechanism, she would just shut down and no amount of urging, pushing, or coaxing could get her to move.

Over the past few months we’ve worked on moving forward off the leg willingly and softly. We spent many many sessions with our ears pinned straight back, gnashing our teeth, slamming on the breaks, backing up at Mach II, and moving all hollowed out and stiff.

Fast forward to today…

We loped. Right off my leg. She rolled right into it. She broke at the poll, got her butt under, and softly moved right up into the lope with nary a pinned ear or kick. I even pressed my luck and asked her to lope on both leads multiple times. She was a little crabby going to the right (her bad side), but a second attempt produced a nice lope.

I only asked her for a few strides each time (didn’t want to even give her the chance to think about braking), but it was more than enough to make me a proud mama .