The Ups and Downs of Horse Selling

It all happened so quickly- I casually mentioned to a trainer friend that I wanted to sell Sienna, she told me to send her some info on her, and 3 days later I was on the road, hauling Sienna 2 hours away to let her client try her out.

Here I might interject that Sienna had a grand total of 3 days of riding on her before I loaded her up and took her down, after several months off thanks to school. I might also add that two of those days were days that I worked until 8:30 PM and 8 PM, respectively, so the riding took place in the dark.

Sienna was a superstar for these people (a mom, a dad, and a nine- year old girl, all beginners) from the moment I unloaded her. She calmly looked around at the barn,  and then we walked back to the trailer and tacked up. I jumped on her first, and she walked, trotted, and cantered immediately on cue, backed, pivoted, and whoaed exceptionally. Then the mom got on Sienna in the round pen, and in spite of the fact that she had a hard time getting her to canter, Sienna was patient and forgiving the entire ride. The little girl got on next, all smiles, and (once she had practiced kicking hard enough that Sienna could actually feel her little legs) had Sienna walking and trotting everywhere in no time. After the ride, the people hosed her off, the little girl braided her tail, using her own hair band to hold the braid in, and then walked off with her, letting her graze. Sienna was polite and respectful- she could not have shown herself off better. The people tried out another older, more bombproof horse, but they liked Sienna better, thought she was prettier, and she suited their future needs more than the other horse (ie, she is a potential English show horse, whereas he was not).

The mom told me that they really liked her, the dad inquired with the barn owner about which stall they would keep her in, and, although the mom told me they would think it over and get back to me the next day, everything seemed so sure that I ended up leaving Sienna at the barn instead of driving her all the way back. I mean, the dad told the barn owner it was a done deal.

The next day rolls around, and I hear nothing. Then the next- nothing. Finally the third day comes, and I get the news: the people don't think their budget can afford the monthly care and lessons they would want to take to own a horse.

I was understandably upset- I mean, what kind of person doesn't figure that out before a) putting a bunch of people out and b) telling their young daughter they are horse shopping for her? But it comes with the territory. Horse selling (and buying) can be a really frustrating deal, especially if you are in a hurry. Fortunately I can wait for the right owner to come along, but it would have been really nice if these people had bought her because they got along so well and I would have gotten to see her often where she was boarded.

This experience made me realize four things:

1) I have trained Sienna much better than I give myself (or her) credit for

2) In spite of being sad to leave her behind, I really am ready to sell her and move on

3) In the interim of waiting for interested parties to find her, I'd like to seriously start jumping her

4) Don't start looking at other horses and getting excited about the next one until the sale is a done deal!

Too cool for the faint of heart

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An Argument for "Wasting" Money on Horses

A friend shared this on Facebook, and I found it totally relevant to my life, both 12 years ago and today.

Very often we hear parents at the riding school complain about the cost of horses. While we know they eat a hole in the pocket, a father recently shared why he forks out for the animals. We’ve copied this from Facebook and definitely think you’ll enjoy the read:

My daughter turned sixteen years old today, which is a milestone for most people. Besides looking at baby photos and childhood trinkets with her, I took time to reflect on the young woman my daughter had become and the choices she would face in the future.

As I looked at her I could see the athlete she was, and determined woman she would soon be. I started thinking about some of the girls we knew in our town who were already pregnant, pierced in several places, hair every color under the sun, drop outs, drug addicts and on the fast track to no-where, seeking surface identities because they had no inner self esteem. The parents of these same girls have asked me why I “waste” the money on horses so my daughter can ride. I’m told she will grow out of it, lose interest, discover boys and all kinds of things that try to pin the current generation’s “slacker” label on my child. I don’t think it will happen, I think she will love and have horses all her life.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she has compassion. She knows that we must take special care of the very young and the very old. We must make sure those without voices to speak of their pain are still cared for.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she learned responsibility for others than herself. She learned that regardless of the weather you must still care for those you have the stewardship of. There are no “days off” just because you don’t feel like being a horse owner that day. She learned that for every hour of fun you have, there are days of hard slogging work you must do first.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she learned not to be afraid of getting dirty and that appearances don’t matter to most of the breathing things in the world we live in. Horses do not care about designer clothes, jewelry, pretty hairdos or anything else we put on our bodies to try to impress others. What a horse cares about are your abilities to work within his natural world; he doesn’t care if you’re wearing $80.00 jeans while you do it.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she understands the value of money. Every dollar can be translated into bales of hay, bags of feed or farrier visits. Purchasing non-necessities during lean times can mean the difference between feed and good care, or neglect and starvation. She has learned to judge the level of her care against the care she sees provided by others and to make sure her standards never lower, and only increase as her knowledge grows.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she has learned to learn on her own. She has had teachers that cannot speak, nor write, nor communicate beyond body language and reactions. She has had to learn to “read” her surroundings for both safe and unsafe objects, to look for hazards where others might only see a pretty meadow. She has learned to judge people as she judges horses. She looks beyond appearances and trappings to see what is within.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she has learned sportsmanship to a high degree. Everyone that competes fairly is a winner. Trophies and ribbons may prove someone a winner, but they do not prove someone is a horseman. She has also learned that some people will do anything to win, regard-less of who it hurts. She knows that those who will cheat in the show ring will also cheat in every other aspect of their life and are not to be trusted.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she has self-esteem and an engaging personality. She can talk to anyone she meets with confidence, because she has to express herself to her horse with more than words. She knows the satisfaction of controlling and teaching a 1000 pound animal that will yield willingly to her gentle touch and ignore the more forceful and inept handling of those stronger than she is. She holds herself with poise and professionalism in the company of those far older than herself.

Because my daughter grew up with horses, she has learned to plan ahead. She knows that choices made today can effect what happens five years down the road. She knows that you cannot care for and protect your investments without savings to fall back on. She knows the value of land and buildings. And that caring for your vehicle can mean the difference between easy travel or being stranded on the side of the road with a four horse trailer on a hot day.

When I look at what she has learned and what it will help her become, I can honestly say that I haven’t “wasted” a penny on providing her with horses. I only wish that all children had the same opportunities to learn these lessons from horses before setting out on the road to adulthood.

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RIP Remington

I wanted to separate yesterday's and today's posts, even though Remi (my little mouse) died last week. He had been sick a for a while- in fact, a few weeks ago I thought he was about to be dead for sure when he started rolling around his cage like he was having a seizure- and he was getting up there in age for a mouse, so it wasn't really that surprising when I got home from work last Wednesday and found him dead in his cage (a sight that you never really get used to, no matter how many small animals you've had). It was still a little unexpected since he had been seemingly fine that morning, and, although I am glad that he is no longer sick and suffering, I feel his absence a lot more than his size might lead one to believe.

Any noises I heard in the night I could attribute to Remi (since that was when he was usually running around or eating). Now if I hear something, I have to pretend it's nothing, rather than imagine what it could be (scorpion, wasp, etc). He was the nicest mouse that ever existed- I don't think he ever bit me- and he was always very sweet and happy to be held. I almost lost him one day when I was spraying him for mites and he made a leap of faith out of my hand- but even then, when I grabbed onto him tightly and didn't let go, he didn't sink his sharp little teeth into my hand.

I hope that me "rescuing" him from the pet store so that he didn't become snake food created a better life for him than the life he could have had.

I just sold off his cages and supplies (for a deeply discounted price) to a little boy who is SO EXCITED to be getting a hampster. The boy was a little taken aback that the cage was pink, but he assured me that "it's fine, it's ok". I think he's just so happy to finally be getting the pet he has been begging for for a long time. There's a hampster in town that's about to get a special home, and I'm glad that Remi and I helped make it happen.

The day I got him

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To a wonderful lady who will most terribly be missed

I went and visited my family this past weekend, as they were celebrating my sister's graduation from high school. The party was fun- there was a lot of food, a lot of people, and a lot of chocolate courtesy of yours truly- but for me there was a slight damper in the air because of some news that I had received earlier that morning.

The lady that I credit completely for turning my life, and Chica's life, around at a point when it was going incredibly south passed away earlier this month when she succumbed to cancer.

I last visited her in February of this year in the senior living community that she was in, and I think I talked to her one more time on the phone after that. One of the last things she said to me was, "Don't forget about me," and I never intend to do so.

I met Connie Presnell around my freshman or sophomore year of high school. At that time, my horse, Chica, was out of control, and I was scared to death of her. A friend I was boarding with suggested I come and ride with the lady she took lessons with at another barn and even hauled me to take a lesson with her. Connie had me ride Chica in the round pen to see what was going on, and she was quite surprised when she asked me to canter her and I burst into tears (Chica had been bucking me off whenever I asked for the canter). I don't know what she saw in us, but she took us on as her clients, and she raised my confidence in myself and taught me how to be a wonderful rider in the process. Then, we worked on giving Chica an attitude adjustment- and she went from a brat that knew how to control and intimidate me to a wonderful, (usually) loving companion that I could ride bareback and bridleless.

Connie could not ride due to a car accident, but she was the most wonderful coach I could have had. Even Chica knew to straighten up and behave whenever Connie was around. Connie always told me, in the later years when Chica and I were winning and doing so well, "You did this with this horse. No one else," which may be true in the physical sense, but I could never have done it without her wisdom and teaching. I literally don't know what I would be doing now if it weren't for Connie, but I probably would not be riding horses nor would I still own Chica.

I know that her passing has left a huge whole in my heart and in the hearts of her students. Even though I've been on my own without her for several years now, it was always nice to know that I could call her up and talk to her about any problems I was having with Chica and get her advice and to take the occasional lesson when I was in town. Now I will have to rest assured that she is watching me ride from above, shaking her head in horror at how lax my posture has gotten and saying, "Shoulders back, monkey. Sit up straight!".

When I was riding Sienna a couple of days ago, before I had found out about her passing, for some reason I could hear everything Connie would tell me in our lessons- and I went through my old warm up I would do with Chica, this time with Sienna. Sienna behaved so much better than she had been behaving, and my old confidence was right there in the saddle with me. I don't know if that's a coincidence or if on some level she was still there, instructing me as always. I need all the help I can get with this horse, so I'll take it!

I marvel at how well Chica and I did with Connie for multiple reasons- namely the fact that Chica's attitude sucked and my confidence was long gone- but also because Connie was an Arabian person. Most of her clients had Arabians or Half-Arabians. And here came this kid with this little roan mare who liked to buck, kick, and scare her devoted owner to death. Even around the expensive Arabs and their owners, however, I never ever felt a sense of me or my horse not being equals with them. We were always treated like royalty. Connie had me ride any of those horses that I could for the different experiences, and at shows, I was always to have my horse and myself dressed to the nines, even though the shows were open shows that didn't require it.

I am going to miss Connie terribly. It's going to be weird driving past her house and not seeing her truck out front. It's going to take some getting used to knowing that I won't be seeing her anymore. But someday, if Chica goes before I do, I know that there's not a better person to watch over her until we are reunited. Connie will have her trotting like she did before her surgery and doing flying lead changes in no time. Maybe even doing country pleasure!

Connie, I hope you check in on me from time to time. I could really use the lessons that I used to have with you. I'm glad you are reunited with Glen, Calcan, and all of the others that have gone before you. And I hope that you will keep an eye on Chica, Nita, Norman, Teddy, Georgia, Marie- all of us that were lucky enough to have you as our mentor.

Chica simultaneously cracks me up and creeps me out in this pic

After Connie's influence

One of the coolest horse show opportunities I've had because of Connie

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Remember the feral cats I was just introducing yesterday?

Well, I got home yesterday evening and discovered these on my porch:

Little wet babies

Yes, Magic Chef decided to have her kittens on a slatted porch three feet off the ground.

One of the kittens had fallen off when I found them and was laying on the ground, crying, so I picked it back up and set it with Mama. In other news, Magic Chef can now be called Magic, because she not only let me handle her newborn kittens, but she also walked up to me and asked to be pet. I guess the hormones have made her no longer a jerk!

I stood by the edge of the porch for a while and watched the babies to make sure they didn't fall off. She dried and cleaned one of them really well, but the one that had fallen was still soaked.

So defenseless

I was worried, and I still am a little, because this is her first litter. But, she purred and talked to them, so hopefully instinct will take over.

You can do it!

Eventually I went inside to change out of my heels from work and into my boots, and when I came back out, Magic and one of her kittens were gone. I waited a few minutes, and she came back and carried off the other one. I later discovered that she had stashed them in the insulation up under my house, which is pretty clever if you ask me. Although that probably needs to be fixed when the kittens are no longer using it.

She seems to be keeping an eye on them- I walked over with a flashlight to peer up into the hole and see if I could see them, and she walked over to see what I was doing- and she got in with them while I was standing there because one was crying. They are just so tiny! I want to intervene and bring them inside where they are protected, but I know that she is the best thing for them. It's hard to stand back and let nature take its course.

Before Magic moved them, Romeo discovered them when walking back from his bathroom break. He was so concerned; he could hear them crying and was trying to reach where they were so he could see and smell them. I obliged him by letting him jump up so I could hold him and let him see, but he couldn't get to them.

"Are these mine?"

The female cats love him so much that they didn't care at all that he was so close, not even when he got up on the porch and walked as close as he could get to them.

Hopefully in a few weeks the kittens will reemerge as healthy, playful babies. And hopefully, since their moms trust us, we can win them over quickly and then maybe find them homes when they are of age. And then, if everything goes according to plan, we'll be able to get Magic and Lexi spayed and hopefully have no more kittens. Maybe Juan Pablo, as well. There are so many generations living at my landlord's house across the pond that it's only a matter of time before another cat works its way over.

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Wacky Weather We're Having

Anytime I talk about the weather, I think of this quote from The Most Interesting Man in the World:

"He never chats about the weather, even in the middle of a hurricane."

And then I feel self-conscious. But oh well! We shall continue forth.

This Thursday through Friday, it rained. And I do mean RAINED. As in, there were two days in a row that I expected to have to float my way back to my house, and the entire town flash-flooded.

"Oh sorry, did you need to see?" ~rain

There was also lightning... lots of lightning. The kind of lightning that leaves me just knowing that I will no longer have any horses left when it's over, and always thankful when I go outside and they're still standing, unharmed.

But the storms did bring with them a couple of neat things, like this water-soaked spider web:

Gross but pretty.

And this fella, who was very confused about why I was crouching down in its face, poking at it with a shovel (for the record, I was trying to drag it out with said shovel so I could see it in the light/keep it from disappearing into the feed room):

I was told this is either a cottonmouth or a water snake... I'm leaning towards the latter.

It was a weekend for wildlife.

Following on the heels of the sudden snake, while I was getting dinner ready for the horses, I looked over and saw this:

Nothin' to see here...

It watched me for a while, which kind of freaked me out because raccoons are not typically seen out in the day unless they are rabid or have distemper (or, a later Google search informed me, they are mommas with hungry babies). But, this one didn't seem sick; it seemed more like it was just waiting for me to leave so it could try to break into my feed cans like a jerk.

I saw one again yesterday in the small paddock by the house, scrounging for dropped grain, and then another one last night also digging for more dropped grain. Possibly all were the same raccoon... I'm starting to think we have a new addition to the feral cat colony establishing itself on my porch. Yippee.

Lexi and Magic Chef

A few months ago, a mama cat (dubbed "Mama") and her two kittens showed up at the house, expecting to be fed. We obliged them, and although Mama has since disappeared, her two kittens decided to stick around and eat food and perpetuate the bloodline (lucky us)- one of them has recently given birth, although we have not found the litter yet.

Although they were very skittish at first, Lexi has become very sweet. She rubs on you, is constantly demanding to be petted (when she is not demanding to be fed), and the other day I picked her up without fuss and carried her to my truck to "take care of" a dead bird that was stuck in my grill. She disposed of it for me in much less time than it would have taken for me to get it out.

Magic Chef is still skittish and can only be touched when she is eating. Oh, what's that? You want to know why her name is Magic Chef? Well, let me tell you!

One day we were trying to come up with names for the cats that had decided to stay. One of them was laying on top of a broken dishwasher that was recently replaced in the house, moved outside, and never picked up again. I told my roommate, "Whatever brand the dishwasher is, that's her name," thinking it would be something like "Maytag". My roommate walked over and said, "Uh, it's Magic Chef". To which I responded, "So let it be known."

As long as the cat is a brat that runs away instead of letting me pet it, she will be called Magic Chef. If, one day, she decided to be more friendly, I will shorten it to a more society-friendly "Magic".

Living the good life

This male, who I suspect is the proud papa of the recent litter(s), decided after being fed here a few times that he didn't really need to go back to wherever he came from. He has the funniest, squeakiest meow, that's even funnier since he's a male cat. He can be very skittish, which makes me wonder if he was abused, but he has become very sweet towards me and will come up to me and let me pet him.


He has a range of names- I usually just call him the first thing that comes to mind. Some of these names include Powderpuff, Juan Pablo, Juan Carlos, Rico Suave (apparently he's Hispanic), Paul, and Casanova.

Ah, the life of a country bumpkin.

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Weekend shenanigans

So this weekend went too quickly... but it was super productive.

For starters, I worked almost 15 hours on Saturday. Yikes. The good news is that I get paid overtime. The bad news is that... well, I had to spend an entire Saturday at work.

Saturday night, my friend Elizabeth, who was in town for a young professionals event, stayed out at the house. I can't say I was super awake once she got there, as I had been up since 5 that morning, but at least she got a warm welcome from Fiona and Romeo who were SO EXCITED about having a visitor!

Sunday morning, she and I went to breakfast, and then she headed back home. Meanwhile, I drove over to Half Price Books and browsed (and bought), passing the thirty or so minutes until Patricia and Justin got done with church so I could meet up with them... for lunch.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't immediately eat another full meal after having breakfast. On the bright side, the Ninfarita didn't affect me at all like it did the others, because of all of the food.

After Justin and Patricia headed back to Houston, I went home and, determined not to sleep the rest of the day, changed into my boots, put on a hat, and grabbed my new shatter-resistant sunglasses that make me look like Jack Nicholson. And then, I got out The Weed Eater. I call it The Weed Eater because it is like a weed eater on steroids. It looks like a push mower, and it can power through just about anything- probably even small trees. This is great for me, because I cannot. I did have an incident the last time I used it where it sucked up about 15 hay baling wires, which was about as fun as you can imagine to disassemble, requiring wire cutters and some swearing.

After weed eating everything I could find, I got out the riding mower and, sporting a sexy little respirator to protect myself from inhaling all of the flying dirt and debris, mowed down everything I could find. Mind you, I had just done all of this two weeks ago, but it was already starting to look like a jungle out there again. Poor Fiona was having to wade through the grass to go to the bathroom, and Romeo was tracking all kinds of grass seeds inside the house, courtesy of his face.

Then, not feeling like I had tortured myself enough, I pulled out the tree trimmers and clipped the trees on the sides of the driveway that were blocking my view when I pulled out, along with the tree that scraped the top of my truck when I drove under it. This entailed me hanging precariously over the ditch, reaching out as far as I could, along with a lot of jumping and clipping midair to get branches out of my reach. I definitely cursed my lack of tall boyfriends.

Anyway, I was very happy with the final result:

So manicured!

There are still a couple of trees that I could stand to weed eat around, but my screaming muscles today think it's ok to let them go.

Because of all of the yard work, I was super exhausted by the end of the day, so I created new ways to torture my horses that did not involve riding:

Sup.

Unimpressed, as usual

Poor Chica's eye flared up again with the Great Windstorm of May 2013, which is why it looks weepy there.

After getting everyone fed, I finally took some time to relax and watched the movie Clue while eating dinner, and then I started Douglas Adams' The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, which I'm excited about because I really enjoyed The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I'm aware that these are older books and not a new discovery, but they are just so clever! I'm super glad that it's a four-book trilogy.

I'm looking forward to next weekend- several friends are coming into town to hang out and paint the town red. The following weekend is another conference, but then the weekend after it- memorial day weekend!! At this moment I have no plans, nor do I plan to have plans. Three days of doing nothing except riding and reading and lounging about sound pretty swell to me right now.

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