10 Years After

I do need to move on, and I'm going to. I wrote a post about a year ago, and poofed it back into drafts because it was so raw and sad. 10 Years after, and the sad has, very slowly, lifted.

10 years ago, I failed to protect a horse. I tried. I'm going to forgive myself, and enjoy the horses I have always loved.

I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals. I cannot control how others treat their animals.

RIP, AC. You deserved so much better.


Thank you to all of my readers, I know how hard it was for you to deal with, too.

Pennys, from Heaven

As many of you may or may not know, horses were a large part of my life for many years.
My mother always said I wilted when I wasn't at the barn.
When I told my young nephew I was quitting riding, he said "Horses will be sad."

Horses are a tragic love story, every last one of them.
For me, anyway. I tried many times to quit the horse-life, and this last horse-free time was 20 years or so.
On a pure whim (helped by the fact that I passed the barn on my way home from work)
I decided to throw that leg over again.
Okay, maybe not a whim. A prayer. I guess I was starting to desiccate.
I had tried the barn years before, but wasn't impressed. At all.
Ownership had changed, and OH, was I impressed.
Happy, healthy horses. LOTS of them!

ETA - BUT a year later, and things changed back to bad. Very bad.

My first ride on Penny was my first time back in the saddle in a very long time.
My time-line after horses is easily muddied.

Penny was a 16.2+ bright-copper chestnut, the best colour.
Glinting with gold in certain light.
Gorgeous thick tail, multi-coloured, with the darkest shades a glorious red-burgundy.
Her coat was fine and soft. Penny didn't need clipping.
A kind eye, an expressive wide generous mouth.
Long ears, for intelligence, but not overly long.
Lovely long well-shaped neck and an intelligent head at the end of it.
Slightly long in the back, slightly goose-rumped, and oh, I liked her from the start.
Just enough uneven white on her face and good-boned sound legs. Trakhener.
A breed I'd thought was scatter-brained and flighty. Well.

The horses have stall fronts that allow them to hang their heads & necks out and look beyond their stalls.
Penny looked fabulous.

I learned she'd been used for driving, as well as H/J, as well as other divisions.
Penny was 12 years old, and clearly knew what the ropes of riding were all about.
I was just thrilled to be there in her presence.
She surprised me with her tallness, which I think amused her.
Getting on and off, both!
Penny's blasé attitude was just what I needed.
She wasn't all that thrilled about grooming, maybe my arms were weak, and not tuned to her likes and dislikes.
I did try her withers, but that seemed to be no big deal.
Penny was sizing me up.

I climbed on, and settled in, and felt...  home.
My stirrups were the right length (miracle, at a riding school).
I had no idea how my body was going to react.
I sat up, and asked her forward, and away we went.
No drum rolls, no fan-fare. I am not wilting, in the saddle.
I am not wilting, as I smell horses.

Walking, long strided, easy swinging gait, lovely for my old back, which did say a few surprised words.
I ignored those words, as most of my spinal cord was applauding.
My legs felt right, my body said "ah, yes. good."
All because this bright-chestnut mare knew just what to do.
I felt safe. We tried a trot, which she gently shuffled into.
I surprised myself again by posting on the second beat, and then knew what diagonal I was on.
Penny plunked along as my scrawny old frame slowly adjusted/stretched/relaxed into her movement.
You know I kept my reins loose, don't you? I did.
Penny didn't do the time honored school-horse duck-in-to-the-centre-of-the-ring trick.
Penny stayed close to the wall, while I sorted myself out.
The minute I heard louder words from my spine, I'd collapse a bit, and Penny would immediately walk.
She knew when I needed to take a break.
At the half-hour mark, the end of the first ride, grinning from ear to ear, I forgot how far away the earth was.

Subsequent rides were about 40% Penny, and the other lessons were on S. and T.
Those great geldings are wonderful in their own right, but that's another story.

Penny was quite (sorryPenny) lazy, during some of our rides.
She'd let me wiggle my legs ineffectually against her sides, while she maintained a minimal pace.
I finally asked for a "stick" (little bat is my go to "weapon"), and OH, Penny said.
Okay then. One should always carry a stick, taught Penny.
I had cantered both Star and Tucker by my 12th ride, but I hadn't cantered Penny. Ride #13.
I wasn't given much direction (and yeah, I probably wasn't listening, sorry, K).
I figured Penny'd be lazy about cantering, so I asked her from a walk, going towards home, from the far end of the arena.
It was lunch-time, and she'd been in all day for the farrier. Yeah. Talk about lighting up her life.
What should have been 10 or 12 strides was transformed into a galloping 7 strides, before I could aim her at the next wall for a whoa.
I had pulled on her mouth as soon as she started to Not-canter, saying whoa, but she was sure I'd asked for a gallop, and pulling was fine during a gallop, anyway!
Funny mare. Kinda killed my confidence, but a learning experience nevertheless.
I was glad my 13th ride was on Penny.

I rode Penny twice more, Not cantering, thank you very much, before C was able to convince me I COULD canter Penny.
C explained I needed to "throw the reins at her".
No arguing allowed as she started to canter, and it would be easier from a balanced trot.
And lo and behold, with a little pin of her chestnut mare ear, she "tiny-bucked" into the canter.
When I say tiny-buck, I mean millimicronic. Adorable.
We cantered both ways, with circles! Easy-peasy, because she was left alone to listen to what I wanted her to do.
She had a lovely, slightly-stiff-backed, canter. Easy to sit to.
My 17th ride. On a Friday.
Now, don't forget, it's my horse story, and you just know how they turn out.
Be prepared, because with horses, tragedy is always waiting.

My next lesson was Tuesday. Arrived, blooming with the thought of horses.
My heart twisted when I saw people surrounding Penny's stall, looked at seriously/sadly/tearfully by her owner and the vet and other barn workers.
Penny went to Ontario Veterinary College, where their track record was excellent with colic cases.
One week later, the decision to free her from her pain was made.
My heart, which I had truly believed was finally tough enough to withstand horses (otherwise why go back?) broke.
Again.

Thank you, Penny.
I'm so grateful I rode her first. I hope Penny liked me.
I didn't know I loved her, but she did.

Rest easy, sweet girl.

I will ride again, because I think Penny would want me to.
Her last lesson to me.
Horses are transient spirits on this earth, and the time we are given with them is a gift.
Never take them for granted.
Ever.

Raisin' Blazes and Up 'n Rising

In memory of Blaze, my puppy.
Oct. 2006-Feb. 2018.
Not nearly enough time, but the time we had was very sweet.
Above posted Feb. 24, 2018.

Below typed July 11, 2019
I can now type without crying. At least, we'll see.

I am so sorry, sweet pup. For the first time in my life, I remain without animal, as of today, July 11, 2019.
First posted this in February 2018, when I lost her, but my heart was still shattered, and I could not muster any thing to say. Said something glib and stupid, and for that, I apologize.

Moving to town was hard on both dogs, and the powerlessness I felt at their struggles was heart-breaking, too. Flip wasn't ever great on leash, it made her sad. Why would she be, born and raised farm dog. Flip was appalled by our new house, really. A habitable abode looked pretty danged good to me, although leaving the old place was pretty brutal too... ANYway, Flip, first thing she did was go through the back yard gate and stroll around on the road. Poor Flip, I wish...

Blaze "only" had 6 years on the farm, but Blaze was dragged to the city to "work", which she didn't enjoy, at all. Flip was no fan of commuting/city work either, really. Again, why would they be?
They were Australian Kelpies, bred and born to work sheep over thousands of acres.

At least "my" old place had acreage for walking. No habitable abode, but hey, great for dogs. New work completely sucks for dogs, great for work. Old work sucked for work, great for dogs... I'm sensing a pattern here!

Moving to town was a small death I had to deal my girls. There, I've said it. Thank you, tears, that actually helped a bit.

My heart is still broken, my current mindset doesn't want to inflict city life on a "new" (hate that word) dog. I moved to the country for old red dog, But. Then. Moved back to the city. Blaze used to bark at the fence around our yard. "Move, dammit!! I need more sniff rooms!"

I am so sorry, my girls. I loved and still love you both. We'll meet again in a big green field someday, and I'll bring the Frisbees. And the perfect stick for Rusty Red Dog, of course. A nice big pond, full of interesting creatures. A canoe for Rusty. Yes, indeed.

Dad's backyard

Back in the Day

Totally enjoying a site on the BookFace, Equestrians Back in the Day. I think I'm highly qualified to be back in the day, because I remember most of the pictures posted. Not all, by any means, but enough to enjoy the memories.
Stanley is the last picture because I miss him a lot, and think of him often. Sometimes when I'm thinking of Dad, and sometimes because his picture is on my phone, thanks to nephew, who knows how to do these sorts of things. He was the first sample pic on my phone, and of course, I haven't changed it. I don't know HOW, is why:)
I am VERY proud that I've learned how to hook the lap-top up to the TV. The technology stares me in the face all the time, I just don't always want to stare back.

I had planned to start typing a smitch, I like to wait until there are no pings happening, at all. Strangely, though, there has been a surge lately. No idea why. Nothing to read here, people!
Move along!

Not that I have anything interesting/exciting/earth-shattering to SAY, mind. I just felt like typing again. You never know when you might need to remember how, I figure.
Good to know my grade 7 typing is still mostly there. Now that my 7th decade is being climbed, one yearly rung at a time, the old body is starting to creak a bit more. Discovered yoga, and also discovered I am still too hard on myself, because, as Dad always did, I assume my body is still 25 years old, in the glory that that quarter century holds.
No, really, it's helping, wish I'd started doing it way sooner, but then I've never been one to jump on any wagon too quickly.
Still trying to find my place to write, without interrupotions. I LOVE that typo...

Thanks for avoiding my blog, I really appreciate the disinterest :)