Lay it on the line

I talk a lot about faith. I talk a lot about honesty. I talk a lot about growth. I talk a lot about healing. I talk a lot about lessons; I wax poetic about how they relate to the horses.

Fact is there have been many lessons, as many lessons as there have been horses. Typically they have presented themselves with uncanny timing; this is not to say that I have always appreciated the timing, much less the lesson.

I suspect the biggest lesson is starting. It wasn't a lesson I'd have anticipated when I started this blog. When I started this blog it was about the growth they afforded me through quite a bit of loss; that still holds true.

A different type of loss came when I lost my job; subsequently bringing an end to a career that I spent nearly fifteen years building. It turned my life upside down in a way that found me rethinking everything I had previously hung my hat on. It shook my confidence in a way that I had never before experienced, the series of adjustments that followed did much the same.

I've climbed through the lessons, more times than not, holding a tail in one hand and a brush in the other. I have learned how to be quiet, I have learned how to be still. I've been shown a level of forgiveness that to this day blows me away. I've learned more about loving another being than I ever thought possible. I've also learned a bit more about grief, acceptance, pride, honestly, confidence, strength, and let us not forget fear.

My confidence slid backward with the loss of my job; really bad timing considering where I was with my "horsey confidence" back then. My confidence really took a hit when Patch died, I wrote and deleted "passed away" I'll muse over that a bit later I suppose. There was, and probably still is, somewhere in there, the belief that I don't deserve them because I went and let him die.

Enter Brody. Brody was in bad shape when he came to me. I was in horrible shape when he came to me. He's spent the last five months eating and hanging out in the pasture, well until recently when I moved him and Katie to the Ranch. They have been at the ranch for about two weeks now.

It's been hard for Brody, he didn't want to eat at first. God forbid Katie be anywhere but next to him, and relaxing was not happening. I was afraid to separate them because his health is, and has been, so fragile. That finally had to come to an end one day last week when I went to go get Katie. Brody and Katie were turned out together and all was well as Katie and I left the pasture with Brody still there. We got about half across the outdoor arena and here came Brody, having broke the fence to get to Katie (not me Katie).

They were separated that day, they had been in stalls right next to each other. He was devastated. He was shaking. He broke out in hives. He screamed. He was pretty inconsolable. I was pretty sure I was gonna lose it watching him, I didn't. We gave him some Quitex (I am sure I spelled that wrong but it is effectively Valerian root). He calmed down eventually that night.

It's hard to watch him be scared, and he is. It's hard to remember that this is all good for him and that I didn't make a bad "horse mom" decision for him even though he is doing so well. I was looking for a word the other night, on the phone with my mom, to describe his reaction to all this change when she suggested hyper-vigilant. Not surprising, she was dead on. Also not surprising is her using the same word when speaking about me (at times).

From Wikipedia:

Hypervigilance is an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect threats. Hypervigilance is also accompanied by a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion. Other symptoms include: abnormally increased arousal, a high responsiveness to stimuli, and a constant scanning of the environment for threats.^[1][2] Hypervigilance can be a symptom of posttraumatic stress disorder^[3] and various types of anxiety disorder.

Are we really surprised that I googled it for good measure? 

The other night when Cathy and I worked with Brody, I watched him be scared and confused with what was being asked. I also watched him come out of it when he understood. I'm not going to qualify any of this with "we didn't do a lot, it was nothing spectacular, etc.." I do far too much of discounting progress, not tonight. It was huge for him and watching him I felt a huge swell of pride. Not for me, for him. To see him relax, to watch him get a glimpse of who he was, what he could do; it made my heart swell with pride. 

I also related; I understood, understand, what it is like to flail about and hope to goodness you're doing the right thing. I get, got, the fear that comes with "Oh fuck is this (insert new experience after great trauma) gonna finally do me in". I watched him deal with that as Cathy followed him around the arena, gently trying to explain that no, the rope wasn't going to eat him.

Then she put the rope in my hand. Then I wondered if the rope was gonna eat me. Then I felt my hands shake with the fear that comes with no confidence. Then I realized that perhaps if he could be brave enough to face the rope, so could I.

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A new way of thinking

When the animals (starting with Leo) came into my life, I was witness to a new way of thinking. I was presented with a faith that I didn't quite understand. Over the last year I made a conscience decision to change my way of thinking, to shift my view of the world, to allow that level of faith into my world. I did not come to this decision by choice, it was prompted by the loss of my job. That being said it most certainly was a choice, prompted or not.

I can't tell you how many times holding onto that faith, the faith of one that can not imagine lying, found me wanting to give up.

Then I have a moment or two like the ones I had today and I remember why giving up is simply not an option.

Katie was in the arena, just being turned out, nothing work related when Cathy went to get a coffee. I had a new halter I thought I'd like to try. I also had a few bits of information from the night before that I wanted to try with Katie and we were alone.

I got the halter on her and we did perhaps three circles either way, we backed up a few times, well we backed up more than a few times. I found myself walking backward and talked to Katie through my mistake. I remembered that I was holding the rope wrong and told Katie about it, probably apologetically. She shook her head a couple times letting me know that 'yes ok I sorta get what ya want but I think you are doing this wrong' and we started over. Afterward we ran around the arena together, silly as it sounds it is super fun to jog and walk with her; she will follow you're lead and speed (which I suppose is the same thing) and well it's just fun. Afterward we walked around the barn(s) and grazed a bit.

I also took Brody around the property for a bit. We walked around the back of the main arena where Bravo was riding with Cindy and got to say hi to them over the arena wall. We walked around the drive and he got to see Missy and Rio. We walked by the end of the barn and he saw Katie but he only stopped for a brief second and she only cried out for a minute as well. They are working toward a little independence and they are doing remarkably well in my opinion.

None of it was spectacular; all of it reminded me that the faith that I want so badly to embody is right beside me every day and for that I am grateful beyond words, even when I don't understand it.

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Mascara, pony tails, and balance

Sometimes it feels as if this has been my life forever. Sometimes it feels like there has always been a parade of very large four legged creatures running through my life. Sometimes it feels like this desire to save one or two or five or ten has always been there. Sometimes water buckets, hay in my bra, and pitch forks seem more natural then putting on mascara.

There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when putting on mascara could be done without looking, while driving down I5. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when how I looked on the outside meant the world to me. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when my grey hair was horrifying.

Tonight I went with Cathy over to Teresa's house for a girls night/hair cutting session. I have done little more then toss my wet hair into a pony tail or a bun since I left Avaland. It will be one year, to the day, in four days. It has not been cut. It has not been touched by a professional. It's had the benefit of perhaps three days where I attempted to wear it down; one day I made it till about noon, one day till nearly four and the third, I barely made ten am.

I have missed the feel of having my hair fussed with professionally. I think tonight I not only found a hair dresser I also found that a bit of balance would be a good thing to think about. I enjoy the girly stuff, I always have. I love my hair, truth be told. I have, of late, found it to be a right pain in the ass. I have neglected it under the guise of "growing it out". This is not to say I didn't want to grow it out, it is to say that a more accurate explanation of why pony tails and no fussing became so attractive is cause it's a pain in my ass. It takes forever to dry, it never does exactly what I want, I am pretty flippin' convinced it'd look way better on someone else's head and frankly I get sick of fucking with it!

In my defense the last 361 days have been filled with horse shit, very little company, and a lot of time spent thinking about what I looked like on the inside.

Balance, I suspect, is in order :-)

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Ima Cool Skip Kid

Katie, officially Ima Cool Skip Kid, is my mare. She is roughly 14.2; I suspect she exceeds the official "pony" measurement however I also suspect that I don't care either which way anymore. I did, at one time, care a great deal that Katie was officially a "pony".  She's also "Impressive Bred"; not necessarily looked at a a good thing. Words like "hot" often come up. Is Katie "hot"; suppose it depends who you ask. I say Katie is as sensitive as she is intelligent and as a result of that well many are put off by her opinions, and she has them. I do think she is "Hot" however I am pretty sure my definition is a touch different (you gotta see her).

Fact is Katie has a bad reputation. She's difficult, she's bitchy, she's this, she's that. I'd like to clear up a few things.

Katie is gorgeous, no one has ever disputed that :-)

Katie is super smart, no one disputed that one either. If there was a "non smart" one in the discussion surrounding me and Katie, it was usually me. Trust me when I say that may have been true the day I bought Katie, it is not always true today.

Katie is sensitive, very.

Katie has trust issues with new people.

Katie makes super mean faces.

Katie bites her boyfriends.

Katie will steal food if given half a chance (she's kinda a pig and would eat herself silly if she could figure out how to accomplish the same).

Katie will give you a kiss if you ask her.

Katie will nuzzle your shirt, jacket, pocket, shoulder, or pony tail if you are standing by her stall and not paying her enough attention. Katie will NOT bite you, she will simply move her nose around like a giant anteater until you relent and tell her how gorgeous she is.

Katie likes to work.

Katie likes to please.

Katie tries her damnedest to do what you are asking.

Katie will tell you if she is unhappy with your treatment of her. After Katie tells you, she will simply not comply, I've seen it happen more than once.

If Katie thinks she is scary to you, she will continue to be scary to you.

Katie doesn't give two shits if she is never in another show again.

Katie hates Mr. Leo. Katie has never kicked Mr. Leo. Katie shakes her head at him every morning when he comes into her stall to drink her water; never once has she done more then that. He understands and leaves, Katie may hate Mr. Leo but she would not hurt him.

Katie shakes her head if she is confused, frustrated, mad, or impatient.

Katie has the cutest nicker ever.

Katie doesn't need to be sold or leased to someone "better" than me. Katie needs to be loved, secure, and able to ride about with her person when we are able.

Katie has that with me, Katie has had that with me for longer then I think I realized. Katie and I will take some good old fashioned lessons together in preparation for spring. Come spring Katie and I will put on super cute English tack and go explore the trails. Katie won't be sold or leased out. Katie is my mare for more reasons than I recognized until very recently.

Katie has proven once again that she is a touch smarter then her person; it didn't take her this long to tell me she was happy ;-)

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Looking closer to home...

A little over a year ago I started this blog. It was after an evening at Diamond Hill Ranch, watching Katie free jump under Sarah's care. I left that evening wondering if I would ever find a place in this world I wanted so badly to be a part of. I left that evening wondering if I would ever do justice to the wonderful mare that I 'owned'. Honestly I left that evening pretty convinced that I would never be able to 'do her justice'. I left that evening feeling a little sorry for myself.

Today, Katie is home. Today, Katie doesn't wait in her stall until it is time to 'work'. Today, Katie eats breakfast in her stall and then she goes outside to play with Brody. Today, I greet Katie with a kiss nearly every morning. Today, when I say "scoot your butt" she moves. Today, I could toss on the bareback pad and  bitless bridle and 'play' (walk / trot in circles) in the arena and never worry. Today, I trust her. Today, she trusts me. Today, I wondered if maybe the belief that Katie was too good for me was played out.

If restarting my lessons is what I want, if a horse at the Ranch I can trust is what I want, perhaps I can look closer to home. Look to the horse that I have loved since I laid eyes on her.

It's a thought...

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"Oh my, you smell like a horse"

Earlier I went up to clean the stalls and Katie came to visit. She likes to stick her head in the window and watch; if I am in Brody's stall she usually gets to munch on the hay he left on the window ledge (he takes a bite, goes to the window, repeat. A lot of hay ends up outside his window and on the ledge!) so it's a win win for the Princess. I tend to sing to her, kiss her big old nose, and tell her a bit about my day.

Today when she stuck her head in the window and I went over to brush the dirt off her neck, perhaps grab a horsey kiss before the real shoveling started, I noticed that she actually smelled like a horse. Because my filter is never in place with the ponies, my first comment to her was "Oh my! You smell like a horse!". Katie usually smells prettier then her mom ;-) I am obsessed with well groomed horses, this is no secret. I have to remind (lecture) myself daily so that I do not go overboard!

Tonight she smelled like a horse; a wonderful musky, warm, honest smell that can never compare to the fussy, perfumed scent that typically follows her around. Instead, she had an admirable amount of dirt on her butt, a smudge on her nose, a twig hanging in her mane, and a healthy dose of horse scents when she leaned into the barn window.

I loved her a little more the moment I took a breath. I didn't even care that she had no idea why it mattered to me that tonight, she smelled like a horse!

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The Princess, AKA P

So Kate and I were talking, those of you that know Kate and I probably have a damn good idea where this story is going!

See there is this horse ;-) I couldn't resist! There is of course a horse in the story, the nice thing is this is a current horse. We aren't sitting about trying to figure out where and which one of us can house a poor horse that is without a home; we are talking about my first horsey love, the wonderful Miss P.

Kate has said that P could come hang out at the barn and I could work with her. P is my dream horse, she has been my dream horse since the moment I picked those tangles out of her mane. I feel safe with P, I know P, I trust P and I plain old love the hell out of that horse. I would have absolutely NO problem taking an hour out of my day to work with P. Those who know me probably have a damned good idea of how huge that is. There are very few horses in this world that I'd feel comfortable pulling out of their stall to work with (not take care of, I'm exceptional with take care of). Cathy has said many times I could ride either Diamond or Cocoa whenever I wanted, I actually got on Duke for a few minutes once. Fact is, I'd probably not have the guts to just decide I wanna ride and walk on over to grab Diamond. This is NOT because Cathy has indicated that I have even one reason to not feel free enough to do just that, it is me and my crazy wackadoo (Kate's word) thought process. This is what I'd do to myself...

1. Sitting in the store I think "Hmm it'd sure be fun to walk (maybe trot) around the arena" (let's face it folks Carol doesn't canter).

2. "Well Cathy said I could always ride Diamond"

3. "Hmmm she even said I could ride Cocoa and he's older" (let's face it folks Carol doesn't canter).

4. "You're not a great rider".

5. "You'll probably confuse them".

6. "Cathy will likely think you are a hack if she sees you and never let you touch another horse again"

7.  Now I'm nervous.

8.  "You'll just make them nervous".

9.  "When are you going to get over this and stop punishing yourself"

10. "Hmmm maybe I'll go wander over and see Rio"

None of that would happen with P. I feel safe with P, I know P, I couldn't feel more comfortable with a horse. I have to talk to Cathy. I really would love for P to be up at the barn with me. I could take an hour out of my day and give her a bath; I'll tell ya what, that girl would be the cleanest Palomino Pony this side of the Mason Dixon line!

I could take her out and we could do ground work (she loves it, really she does). I could take her out and we could walk/trot around the arena  (let's face it folks, Carol doesn't wanna canter). We could practice for trail rides come this summer. P doesn't really wanna go fast, neither do I. She is amazing, out of Hollywood Dun It (she says as if she cares), crazy well bred. She just doesn't want to work too terribly hard and she'd prefer not too many people touch her. Seriously, has there ever been a description of a horse that fits me better than that?! I think not.

Plus, I could kiss her whenever I wanted and I could snuggle up to her mane any time I wanted (she loves it, really she does). There really is nothing like snuggling up in P's mane.

Yep, yep, I must talk to Cathy and Kate and figure this out. P being up there with me would be just flippin' perfect and goodness knows when something is "just flippin' perfect" it warrants a little figuring out ;-)

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There's dog food in the bathroom

I was walking through the house today realizing that it was probably more messy & disorganized then it's been in any recent history. I made my way into the bathroom, looked to the floor and thought to myself "great there's dog food in the bathroom"; that about summed it up.

It's been a messy & disorganized couple of months. I attribute it to the amount of loss this last year has handed us here at the farm, Patch being the most recent.

Texas is going back home to Sarah's on Sunday & I am hoping that will conclude the string of losses this year. We could all use a bit of a break. At least with Texas I know he's gonna be just as loved as he ever was so although I've shed the tears and will do more of the same this weekend I can do so knowing he's going to be fine. It's a hell of a long way from the grief that we felt when Patch left, however it is grief nonetheless. I'll miss the big guy beyond what I am willing to express right now; I'm a little tired of crying on my blog.

So after finding the dog food in the bathroom; I still don't know why Leo brought two pieces in there, he wouldn't say. In any case afterward I went about cleaning the kitchen up a bit, vacuumed, and started on the remaining blankets I have here to wash. The dog food is still in the bathroom, baby steps people, baby steps. I feel better, I didn't cry today, my eyes are finally back to their normal size and I can walk through the front room, if not the bathroom, and not shake my head in disgust at my lack of housekeeping skills these last few weeks!

Tomorrow I work at the Fishline which always brings a smile. Tonight we'll burn some cardboard in the fire-pit, sit around listen to the ponies eat, and enjoy the view.

Perhaps I'll get the motivation to pick up Leo's leftovers before days end however if not, in the grand scheme of things when dog food in the bathroom is my biggest problem of the day I guess I ought not complain!

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CraigsList.Org & Masochistic Tendencies

I comb the For Sale listings in "Farm & Garden" on CraigsList daily. I do not "browse" I comb. It is an addiction and slightly masochistic considering what I am "combing" for. Ponies, ponies, and more ponies. Ponies that have served their "owners" and find themselves at 20 with no "job", rendering them "useless". Ponies that were bred cause "babies are cute". Ponies that have had one tragedy followed by the next. Ponies that, for the most part, no one wants.

This is not to say there are not legitimate sales on Craigslist.

This is to say that my bleeding heart, tree hugging, animal loving, liberal self can't seem to find her way to any ad that displays a perfectly good pony/horse owned by a person I'd respect. I gloss over those, they don't have a "story"; well perhaps it's more that their "story" is not tragic enough to catch my eye.

Every day there is a pony (horse) out there that someone wants to discard as if it matters less than last nights left overs. Scratch that, every day there are scores of ponies (horses) on there that no one wants for one reason or the next and the only hope is to "get rid of" said pony (horse).

The pony is old, the pony is more work then the person thought, the grand kids changed their minds, the kid went off to college, the pony is more work then the person thought...

Disposable.

It turns my stomach and I'm not a "horse person" (by traditional definition). It makes me question "horse people" and "dog people" and every other kind of "people" when used in conjunction. It makes me glad that I am yet to be classified.

In the same breath it is a little masochistic to comb craiglist looking at ponies (horses) I can't help. It's a lot masochistic to go looking for examples of that every day.

There should be an application that blocks ads that contain the words "has been with us for fifteen years but..." or "would be a great kids pony with a little work..." or "was a broodmare for the last two/five/ten years but could be..." or "bought the pony for my grandkids/husband/friends to ride but..."

Disposable.

Breaks my heart, just breaks my heart; slightly masochistic to keep going back.

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He really does make me smile

Brody was great tonight when I insisted that he needed jamma's.

He really does make me smile.

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Time travel, past lives, and all that we become

26 years, one month, and ten days ago I gave birth to my son Joshua.

Five or so minutes ago I shed a few tears for that girl. Leo was on the porch and heard me, he came over to my chair, licked my hand, climbed up on the chair arm and rested his head on my arm for a minute before settling under my desk. How anyone can discount the compassion in animals I'll never know.

It also brought me back to today. Sitting here today I like who I am, I also respect the girl I was back then. The former is a statement that has held true for awhile, the latter is very recent.

About two weeks ago a friend of mine changed the very fabric of my life by locating the man whom had fathered Joshua. To say this was a shock is probably the understatement of my life, as well as Joshua's. Two weeks ago I started looking back, remembering things I had long since forgotten, examining decisions made by a person I was so far away from being today that I spent a lot of time shaking my head. I must admit, I had forgotten all about her; it all feels like five lifetimes ago. I still can't put it to words, I still don't understand it all, I still have no idea how it will shake out. I'm still desperately confused about what this means for myself and the one person in the world that I'd lay over railroad tracks for. There is nothing that compares to what you feel for your child, there are very few words that can do it justice. I rarely write on Joshua because of that, today is no different, it's still nearly impossible for me to write about him.

Today what is different is that I do know that the very confused little girl that gave birth to him deserves some respect. Hiding her in some closet because she was a mere 16 is grossly unfair. To know that I was still punishing her and judging her is hard to process. When had I forgotten that she was the reason I made it through what could have turned into a teen-aged tragedy? Why had I forgotten that?

In speaking to my mom last night I gushed on about how great it was too feel like myself again; it had been two weeks since I felt even close to normal and I attributed this to an epiphany I had standing around the barn feeding everyone their last meal of the day. I was talking to Katie for a few minutes about her crabby face behavior and kissing her nose when it hit me that I was actually a pretty damned good person in spite of all the chaos that colored my early years. I wasn't bitter, I wasn't angry, my life hadn't been a statistic; I was actually a pretty darned good person. I had no reason to carry this shame surrounding my age when Joshua was born, I actually had reason to be proud of who I was and what I had done, the odds we had beat. I can't say that I'm entirely comfortable with being proud of it all quite yet however I am closer.

It's funny, not ha ha funny, how the animals in my life continue to remind me who I am. Katie didn't 'do' much, she just let me kiss her nose and returned the favor with a sloppy smudge to my cheek. Still that simple kiss from her reminded me that I was a person full of compassion, love, understanding, intelligence, and faith. Today when I sat to write and ended up tearing up Leo simply came over to remind me that he loved me, that it was ok, that the faith I held onto was righteous. One more huge lesson delivered through the ones that can not speak...amazing, just amazing.

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Self indulgence

I woke this morning, fed the horses in slippers and headed back to the couch to cuddle with Leo. I stayed there until about 10am. I had a dream that Leo got clipped by a car. Later that morning Leo disappeared to the creek and I spent ten minutes calling his name expecting every horrible thing you can imagine. He finally came screaming up the pasture, ears flat on his head, doing at least fifteen miles an hour, covered in mud from his chest down. I was walking up to the top of the pasture pretending that I wasn't walking the fence line in fear that the dream had come true.

We made our way to the beach with the kids and Leo in tow. We walked the beach, turned over logs and saw crabs. We picked up crabs smaller than my thumb. Met a super cool Canadian Goose and gave him my bottled water and a few chips. I talked some other lady into giving the goose some bread and discussed how I could justify taking the poor guy home and feeding him regularly...

Later I went with a good friend to look at a house she wants to buy. I think the Realtor thought we were "together". It was rather funny. Angela was walking about chatting and there I was inspecting, lifting up carpet edges, looking at the ceiling for proof of leaking, cataloging everything that was not perfect in my head, deducting money from the asking price as I walked through; very serious business! It was great to go with her, we laughed a bit, mostly about my inability to see a damn thing at night time however it was good to laugh. To not be so serious.

I also met a cat, of course! I resisted to take said cat home with me. I am convinced the poor thing either has no home or heard through the animal grapevine that I am a sucker for a furry face.

Today I think I am going to spend hours in my jamma pants and slippers, perhaps rake some leaves, clean a few stalls, talk to Tex for awhile and remind Katie that even when she's pissed she's the prettiest little pony ever! Mr. Leo might get a few extra hugs today and goodness knows Brody will as well.

I'm gonna indulge in all that makes me smile and I'm going to do it all day long. The changes have been too many of late and I think a little self indulgence is in order.

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Time & all that jazz

They say time heals. I don't think time heals, it can't heal, it's just time. What you do with that time, that's what heals.

I thought that last night when I was remembering my dad, it was his birthday. I thought that last night when I remembered my son's teenage years. I thought that last night when I remembered my Aunt, my brother, and Patch, I even threw in my software career for good measure.

I'm not even sure why I'm not angry. I'm pretty sure that if I were, it'd be justified.

Then I came back from turning the lights off in the barn.

Having finished delivering the "lights out" hay, standing next to Texas, my hand resting on his rump, my head laid against the same, I wondered how, in the presence of the most forgiving animals on the planet, I thought I could justify my anger. I couldn't.

So tonight I'll go to bed and remember that for all the loss there is love and that is where, and how, time might actually heal

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I could have bought a fish...

Tonight while I sat and took random pictures of the horses from the hammock, I felt the weight of them in a way that rarely strikes me. They aren't perfect; it's not all pretty pictures and lackadaisical romps about the 'arena' or the 'trail system' (on a really good day!).

Katie is pissed, for example. I also think Katie is in season; either that or Texas has also lost his mind! Season or not Katie is pissed and whereas Katie needs to get over herself I need to help her do that in a way that is safe for Katie. What does that mean with Katie in this circumstance? It means it means spending time with her, just normal, do nothing, one on one time, even when I'd much rather let her twirl her big butt around the stall cause she is pissed. Reminding her that yes, she is The Princess however she is Not The Queen, if you will.

Tex has a sensitive eye, I swear to god the boy gets dust and his eye is upset. He is also prone to hurting his foot. If anyone steps on a rock and bruises themselves around here it is Texas. Tex is also afraid of Simon (the cat) and has taken to jetting off from wherever he is if Simon comes into view; Simon has taken to hiding in the pasture...I think he enjoys it...

They break legs...they aren't perfect. I worry.

They need vitamins, they need grain, they need an incredible amount of hay, they have blankets, they get their feet done, they require patience and more research then any child I've raised, they won't let me sleep in and they sure keep me from dancing the night away.

They break legs...

Brody needs about 150 pounds, Tex needs more exercise, Katie needs to get back into training...

They break legs...they cost a small fortune...

Their lives are in my very small hands and every once in awhile the weight of that hits me. It hit me yesterday afternoon and I wondered what possessed me to begin this journey with horses; I could have bought a fish...

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Birthdays, Brody, and a few rainbows tossed in

Yesterday was my birthday and the first time in five years it wasn't celebrated with my AvaAnniversary. For that I continue to be grateful.

We had company and a nice relaxing day at the farm. I made rainbows with the sprinkler, thought of Melissa and her love of rainbows. I tried conjuring up a unicorn but I fell a bit short. :-)

I still sit down to write and go immediately to Patch. I can't express how badly I miss him. Every day I see his spotted little rear end meandering over to me when I am cleaning stalls, I look out the front door and wonder why no one comes to the door for treats anymore...I don't suppose I'll get over Patch anytime soon, he was so very special.

Brody is doing well. I am not sure how much weight has gone back on him however I do know he is eating better and it shows. He's a super sweet boy really. We did our morning exercises and now everyone is out to play. Watching him move is a different experience. He moves so differently, he seemingly floats above the ground. We have been concentrating on ground work, leading, space, listening, patience (not really "work"). We spend about a half an hour in the arena after breakfast walking about. We are kicking some serious ass in the wedding march game :-) Walk, stop, walk, stop. He probably thinks I have lost my ever loving mind but he cooperates and I think he knows we're doing this all for a reason. We also spend a considerable amount of time at night time brushing, massaging, etc etc. He seems to be pretty happy with the situation at hand.

However...his roommates. Tex is pretty good, he doesn't mind Brody and is trying to figure him out most of the time. Katie on the other hand is not his biggest fan. I am thinking of dubbing her "Princess Crabby Pants". She has decided that Brody does not deserve the end stall, the tape that is now hung between the two is insulting (to her), and if she twists and turns enough in her stall maybe he'll understand that the only reason her foot isn't planted in his ass is cause I put a wall there. Pretty sure she's pissed that I moved her bucket to the other wall too; I am all but certain Brody is getting the blame for that! She's pretty funny actually. The other morning I went to feed breakfast and there she was, ears pinned clean against her head staring at me as if she would rather take food from Leo! Katie has no forelock (and I am not overstating this) when Katie pins her ears she looks like the biggest boa constrictor alive. I call it her "snake face". It's pretty scary if you don't know that all she wants is a kiss :-) So the other morning she was doing her best impression of a giant snake, I laughed and greeted her with "How is my favorite pretty little pissed off pony". I am 99% sure she did not think it was funny! She did perk right back up when I held her bald little face and kissed her nose. Silly tough acting pony! Really I think she is pissed cause when he first got here she was all about snuggling up as close as she could to sniff him however he'd just walk away, it took approximately two/three days of being ignored to piss her right off! Katie does NOT get ignored, she IS a princess ;-) She's been a bitch ever since (I mean that in the nicest way possible).

Starting tomorrow we will be doing Brody's exercises followed by Miss Katie's. Perhaps a little one on one is what she needs. We will see, we will see :-)

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Keeping it light

It's kinda hard to believe it's been only three weeks since Patch left. I find it easier to think of it like that.

Brody is home, he is amazing and doing well. When I am better able to write, I plan on documenting his progress.

Leo is doing well, hot spot and all. He's been pretty cuddly these last few weeks. He generally sleeps at the foot of the bed, lately he is right next to me curled up as if we were puzzle pieces. I appreciate every second.

Katie and Tex are still pretty glued to one another however Tex is trying very hard to make friends with Brody. That's kinda nice to see considering who we are talking about :-) I suppose "sweet" is more apt however Tex might not appreciate the word as much as I do. Katie is reaching out as well, preening is probably more apt however I doubt she'd appreciate that word.

All in all we're settling in, trying to move on, trying to continue without him. It's hard, it's necessary, it's ... life.

I spend a lot of time watching them all, appreciating them all, being thankful that I have them and remembering that they also have me. Keeping it kinda light so we remember the love more then we remember the sadness.

It's hard, it's also possible. One day soon I'll be able to tell Brody's story and with it all of ours. Perhaps it won't do a thing for anyone except us; there is the off chance that it will touch someone outside of the farm and with that help one soul from the sadness that comes with being deemed "useless".

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The debt is mine, Part two

I couldn't really see "stop touching him" as an option.

I felt like an awkward little kid asking if I could go in with him. I knew I was afraid of going in there with him and prayed no one else could see it. So I kicked the dirt with my, ever muddy, tennis shoes and felt five years old asking Drea if I could go in to see him. For the record this fear had nothing to do with being hurt by him. I was kind of embarrassed by how how badly I wanted to go in there with him, almost as if I had been caught kissing the boy I swore I did NOT like. I suppose I didn't really want Drea or Kate to know how flippin' hopeless I was. 


I was renting out the extra stall. I did not want this gelding moving in. My interest was no deeper then your basic sympathy for his plight. Touching him wasn't going to send a lightning bolt through the sunshine for my self delusion plus Kate and Drea weren't going to notice a damn thing, they were chatting.  

I laid my hands on him and felt him lean into me. I couldn't help but think that he needed to somehow find his way back, back to himself. It was as if he knew with each push against my hand that he was disconnected. 

When I first met Brody, I was all but drowning in grief. It was the very day after Patch had to be put down. I thought long and hard in the week that followed about what I felt when I first met Brody; was it Brody or was it my grief that was reaching out to me? I also felt guilty, like I was somehow cheating on Patch by even entertaining the thought.

Then I went back and ended up in his paddock feeling him lean into my hands. I could feel Patch with me however it wasn't grief and it was not guilt. I closed my eyes and just felt for a few, tried to listen to this Universe that had pissed me off so badly the last couple weeks. Somewhere in that moment I could feel Patch nodding in approval, letting me know that it was ok, that the motives weren't to replace him and he knew that. 

I went around to Brody's face and held his chin, looking at him I quite literally asked him what he wanted. We stood there looking at each other for a minute or so then I went and sat down on the edge of his stall. He watched me and I watched him. When I settled I held out my hand and asked him to come over. No words just the offering of my hand, which was visibly empty.


I feel a little crazy admitting it but I was testing this belief that there was a lot more to this than me simply feeling for Brody's circumstance, that these connections I felt weren't one sided or based in grief. With every touch I had been asking Brody the same question. I believed I felt the answer with every gentle push into my hands. When we stood face to face with his chin in my hand I believed he answered me. I wanted confirmation I suppose, so I went and sat on the edge of his stall and offered him my hand, quite literally. 


He came over. He nuzzled a bit then looked at me sitting there as if it was all a touch confusing for him as well. He stepped around me then and went to eat. I got up and followed him in. I apologized for bothering him while he ate and remarked at how dirty petting him had made my hands. I did toss in that I didn't care, I was dirty all the time anyway. 


Kate's phone had rung twice, it was Joshua. He was waiting at Albertson's with groceries; we were only supposed to be gone for "just a little bit". I knew I had to leave, Kate knew we had to leave. I honestly wasn't ready and finally announced that I ought to stop bothering him while he ate and get out of there. I'm pretty sure the announcement was for me.


As we left I blithely (cool word isnt it?) tossed out "gosh I want him & I'll send you pictures of my "Pony Paradise" I heard Drea's response of "I think it'd be a great fit" as we got closer to the car. 


We got back here and I showed off my newly cleaned barn to Kate and remembered the pictures I took of "Pony Paradise" for the ad. Finally standing down looking at the front yard I asked Kate if she thought this was the dumbest idea ever. She said what I already knew; from an economic stand point of course it was a dumb idea (when isn't a 1000 pound eating machine a dumb idea economically?) however from a "he needs you and you need him" stand point it was the only idea. God knows when I started looking to the ground for answers when I was confused but I found myself, once again, kicking the dirt and shaking my head.


After Kate left, rather than obsess, cause we all know I don't do that, I went about looking at the pictures I took. I deluded myself into thinking I was putting this album together for the potential boarder that made more sense then anything else. As I added captions I knew Drea would be the only person to see the pictures, I finished them up and wrote her an email. There was still a part of me that hoped she'd think I was a looney tunes with my talk of approval from Patch and tell me that Brody needed a sane person.


I went to bed that evening and dreamt of Patch, we talked. I woke feeling wonderful. I knew that if Brody were meant to be here, he'd be here. I knew that Patch wasn't concerned that I was replacing him. I knew that Patch wanted me to share all he taught me with Brody.


I am almost over thinking I am a lunatic for believing all that I believe where they are concerned. I'm almost over being embarrassed to admit that the logical person I try to show the world is simply a small part of who I am. I am "touchy, feely, new aged freaky" about them (animals). I do believe that Brody knew what I was asking and I do believe he answered me in the only language available to him. I do believe that Patch approves and I firmly believe he was there with me through every confusing moment.  



Patch was very disconnected when I first met him; in helping him find his way back to himself he helped me find my way back to myself. A lot of people will tell you that horses changed their lives; loving them changed them as a person. For me, they helped me find my way back to who I have always been. They helped me, and are helping me still, to not be so afraid of who I am. For that, the debt is mine.

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The debt is mine, Part one

I think a lot, I analyze every thing, every motive, every possibility (real or imagined). It often drives me crazy and god help the people that have to listen to the process.

We just lost Patch, I say we because I didn't corner the market on Patch and when he left us he left a huge "us". In the same respect I just lost Patch; me, the Carol that I was before he was gone, she lost Patch. He was never "mine" but when he left so did a very special relationship, as a result I am forever changed. 

I am pretty sure I'll feel the loss for years to come, he was such an amazing soul. I had no idea what I was in for when Kate told me that a mutual friend was taking this "pony" to the game farm. 

I wanted a pony for my grandson, he was four. I didn't really ever expect to find a pony for my grandson it was just one of those things Kate and I talked about. "Wouldn't it be cool to have a pony for Antonio? He could ride and wouldn't he look so cute all decked out in English garb under a "fancy" little pony?"

Kate heard that Patch was headed to the game farm; he was no longer useful to the people who owned him. They did serious trail riding and Patch had blown out his tendon again and couldn't carry anyone. She was actually pretty clever in getting Patch out of that. She called and inquired about a "quiet little pony" that "might be good for her friends grandson". Wa la we had an invite to go meet Patch (I had never met him Kate has known him for years). 

For the first time since Patch came into my life I am going to be honest about my feelings surrounding his arrival. He was quite literally on the verge of being tossed to the lions because he couldn't stand the rides, the weight, the work, they wanted from him. Patch was last in the pecking order and well as a result often got chased off his food, he was underweight; scratch that he was skinny. He was also so full of worms it was downright disgusting. His stools were anything but solid. He had blown a tendon so he was "lame"; as it turned out he also had an abscess on his leg that eventually burst and healed. It was not the first time it had happened. It was the time that found him deemed "useless" as far as their needs were concerned, they couldn't afford to continue to care  for a horse they couldn't "use". I find that deplorable. It absolutely pisses me off when people do shit like that. This horse had served them well, many many times. He was not a fucking toy, he was not a god damn motorcycle that blew it's engine. Still they were "done" with this "useless" animal they could no longer pack up and ride on their weekend trips. Off to the game farm he goes. Was a vet called? No no no. Did they know that Patch would "never heal" fuck no. They were just done with him, he was of no use. God every time that runs through my mind I want to throw something so hard it smashes to pieces. 

I've wrestled with these feelings and the judgement that goes along with them since that very first day. There is a real part of me that does not judge them harshly, a part of me that thinks them naive (ignorant) to what the animals (all of them not just the horses) are about, a part of me that feels downright sorry for them because they will likely never get it. Which means they will also never get the pureness of loving them (the animals) and that's a downright shame.

Still there is the me that looked in Patch's eyes and saw the person behind the mane and tail and felt his sadness. She does judge, she quite honestly, despises these people whom took Patch into their lives and hurt him simply because he had no choice but to submit. Patch had a wonderful life with his original owner. Patch had a barn, Patch had enough food, Patch was honored and respected for who he was. Patch did not have a wonderful life with the people whom took over his care. How flipping self absorbed do you have to be to treat a living being as a tool? Can he have a job, goodness yes! When he can't do that job do you let him fall into ill health in front of your eyes then turn him into tiger food? Jesus Christ already! For that I judge. For that I feel a dislike that is damned close to hate.  

The worse part is I know these people and I do like them. I absolutely stand for something opposite of what they do, I don't really "despise" them though. It'd be so much easier if I did. If I did I wouldn't wrestle with these feelings, if I did I wouldn't have "sugar coated" those feelings all this time.

The best part of not despising them was that it forced me to not get all indignant and instead be thankful that Patch had found his way into my life.

I absolutely hate what happened to Patch, without a doubt! I still feel my face get hot and my heart skip a beat when I let myself remember the first time I looked in his eyes and felt his pain. I was fiercely protective where he was concerned. There were very few that I would let near him. No one but my scrawny little ass rode him either and I only asked that of him a few times. Patch decided he was retired after being here for a bit and I absolutely let him do just that. 

Now I am sure I encouraged the retirement belief by making him a special mixture every night so he could gain weight, fussing over his tail (it was a mess and the belief was that it always would be; "they" were wrong his tail absolutely came back healthy and beautiful), carting his hay all over the pasture so no one would bother him, encouraging his "drive by window" treat obsession, etc etc. I'd have slept in his stall if I thought it would be good for him. 

My son's girlfriend (at the time) had pulled Patch out and to brush him one day. It is safe to say I all but took her head off. She didn't really do anything wrong and she was good with him however he was special and had been manhandled enough (in my opinion) and she was not me! I wonder if this had anything to do with his attitude a year later when I was foolish enough to let someone attempt to play "pretty pretty pony" with Patch? Hmmmm hahaha probably so. 

I digress, this post isn't all about Patch. I could tell Patch stories forever however the blog has been flooded with them lately so I'll get on with it!

I met a horse the day after Patch had to be put down. Another sentence that finds my face growing hot and my heart skipping beats. It also stops me dead in my tracks and oh so thankful that I have a window to stare out while I collect myself. It's flabbergasting how much I miss him.

In any case Kate, Jenny and I went to meet a mini mare that Kate was interested in. The mini was rescued along with a gelding and the woman whom rescued them was looking for permanent homes. My only interest in the gelding was a result of a acquaintance being interested in him and possibly keeping him here (I had offered her the shelter if she were to take him on). The mare is darling but one look at the gelding and I was pretty sure he was more then the interested party was willing to take on. I said as much and tried to leave it at that. These two had been victims of a divorce, quite literally forgotten about, left to their own devices on a pasture that was pretty bare. The mini of course got fat, I think they could eat air ;-) The gelding, well he didn't get nearly what he needed and was skinny, he had a bad abscess, and had been in a lot of pain for a long time. 

We fussed over and ohh'd and ahh'd over the mini for a bit; she is just darling. She seriously looks like a tiny Katie with a LOT of hair! Baby doll face, bay, dorsal stripe, just flippin adorable! 

I made my way over to the gelding, at the time I couldn't have told you his name although I had been told his name! I was a mess, I had been crying for what felt like a week but really only amounted to about 12 hours. I stood there and rubbed on the gelding and tried desperately to understand why Patch was gone. I rubbed my hand along his side and felt the ribs, ran my hand along his back and felt his spine; it didn't escape me that I was somehow introduced to a horse who shared so much in circumstance with Patch the day after Patch left. Goodness knows I didn't understand a bit of it and it was just too much to try and pick apart so I just kept petting him and feeling all that he must have gone through. How sad he must have been when he figured out his mom had left and there was no one left that cared. It broke my heart for him, it tore at the grief I was already feeling and pissed me right off. It was also beautiful in it's own way however I was ignoring all that, ignoring the universe that I trusted to bring me what I needed, because I was pissed. Pissed for it taking Patch, pissed for it allowing these things to happen, just pissed and I sure as hell was not going to get all touchy, feely, new aged freaky about this. So I kept petting the gelding whose name I could not remember and tried to keep up with the conversation around me.

The next Monday Kate went to see the mare again and asked if I would like to go. I begged off with a ten minute errand as my excuse. Truth is I did not want to see "the gelding" again. I had remembered his name but I was steadfastly ignoring that and calling him "the gelding". I suppose since I am being honest I should admit I was afraid of seeing "the gelding" again. I absolutely did not want another glimpse at what I felt the first day I met him. I was too busy convincing myself that any "connection" I felt was a product of grief; simple, logical, bullshit. I've seen many horses in a desperate situation. I've appreciated every single one of them, have I "connected" with each one, no. Still I was very busy ignoring this so I begged off. 

I decided to offer the extra stall as a boarding solution for someone else and placed an ad. Kate lost Ziggy to a car accident that day. One week after Patch some asshole hit Zig (Kate's dog) and killed him. My heart broke for Kate and for Zig who was anything but ready to go. Kate texted me, I didn't really say it out loud for hours but Leo got super quiet, attached himself to me like some bizarre four legged accessory and again I tried to ignore the Universe and deduced that Leo was still suffering from Patch's loss. I refused to believe that he actually knew he just lost yet another friend. We (Kate, Jenny and myself) all decided we hated Tuesdays and each of us tried to process this. It was crippling for Kate, still is. 

I went around the farm the next morning and took pictures of what I call "Pony Paradise" with Kenny Chesney's "Magic" playing in my head. Snapping pictures, remembering Patch, remembering Zig, singing "I believe there is magic, a whole lotta magic, I believe there is magic here..." The whole god damn week felt surreal and that morning was no different.

Kate came over and we futzed around a bit, Kate mentioned going to Silverdale and I said sure. I had no real idea what we were doing in Silverdale but I didn't care either. I wanted to be with her, be there for her, let her know that I loved her and respected what she was going through. I figured we were headed to Farmland; yay smelly isles and horsey stuff. 

Turns out we were going to see the mare. I sorta asked "hmmm can I see the gelding" as if I didn't know he was there! Off we went, half assed remembering where we were going cause Kate was trying to come to terms with Zig and last time I had been there I had been trying to figure out Patch. 

Drea had separated the mini and the gelding and I honest to god didn't know he was right in the next stall when I asked about him. I petted him over the fence for awhile and finally got the nerve up to ask if I could go in there with him and pet him. The wire was hot and either he was gonna shock his fabulous nose or I was gonna shock my arm so I either asked or stopped touching him. I couldn't really see stop touching him as an option.

I need a break, this one is proving difficult. 

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Texas, teeth rubbing & shoulder licking

I haven't talked much about Katie and Texas lately however the last few days I've been watching them settle in and made a few observations.

My mom and I talk about the interaction animals have that we, as people, tend to discount. Recently her dog got hurt while playing with another dog at the dog park and now Tink won't play with the other dog (which makes the other dog upset). This has been going on for nearly a week I think. I think Tink has decided Abbey is just no longer her friend, Abbey however has yet to accept this.

Tex and Katie have always sorta been in love with each other and they are also pretty strong personalities. They chased and bossed Patch around as often as they do Leo. It'd go a little like this, Tex would push Katie up the hill, around the barn, away from me, etc... Katie would push Patch out of her way and if Leo was around Patch might make a play for pushing Leo out of his way. The trickle down affect (or is it effect?).

Now when I say "push" I mean a flick of the head, a "mean look" that included pinned ears and a slow trot in the general direction. More like Tex told Katie what to do, having no choice she listened, to prove Tex wasn't the only boss she'd tell Patch what to do and well Patch then had no choice but to tell Leo what to do.

Oddly enough Patch was the most "vocal". Tex and Katie were anything but silent but it was Patch that nickered loudly first thing in the morning. It was Patch that you heard when "they" discovered hay was being delivered for lunch. Katie and Tex followed suit but it was Patch you heard loud and clear, not to mention first.

Tex and Katie don't seem to push each other as much these days. Perhaps cause there is no third for Katie to trickle down to. I think it is because they are still finding their balance, their herd dynamics have changed and they need each other while they figure them out, as a result they are all but stuck together these days. They certainly are more aware of each other. I can watch them keep an eye on the other and if one gets too far away the other moseys over (nonchalantly of course).

They are both more vocal come morning. Texas, my big strong cowboy looking man of a horse, nickers like a little girl and finds me giggling up the stairs the last two days. He really sounds so very sweet. It reminds me of a young boy being hit with a squeaky voice right as he asks the girl next door to the spring dance. He is also way more attentive the last couple days. He's always been friendly, he has always greeted me as soon as he saw me (unless he was eating haha), he's always wanted me to stand there and rub his teeth (yes rub his teeth), and we've laid together while he napped. He's never been shy about attention and he has certainly never been lacking in it either. Today though he did the funniest thing, I was standing in the pasture giving him a carrot and he licked my friends hand, stuck out his tongue (holding it in his teeth), curled up his lip, and blinked his beautiful eyes at her as he rested his mouth in her hand; teeth against her palm, tongue sticking out and goofy look on his face! Now she had NO CLUE what was going on and looked at me like "Oh my god?". I just told her "He wants you to rub his teeth".

After a second he came over to me, I am an expert at rubbing Tex's teeth, and rubbed them for him. I even made the squeaky noise that he loves so much. You have to be careful though cause the more Tex gets into this teeth rubbing session the lower his head drops and his head is ummm heavy. If I am not careful I end up with his head clear to my knees and me struggling to stand upright, it's a lot of weight and I'm not terribly big!

Today after a minute or so I told him enough and turned around. He decided that perhaps we could do the teeth rubbing game on my shoulder. I was standing there talking to Angela, she was gushing over their beauty and their peacefulness/calmness around people when I feel this lick on my shoulder! I turn my head and there is Tex looking right at me as he licks my shoulder again, as I turned around to say "No you will not lick my shoulder" (and yes that's what I said) I could feel him stick his tongue between his teeth and gently lay his teeth against my shoulder and move up and down once. I was trying so damned hard no to laugh the only thing I could say was "Do not be a freaky pony, you can not do that on my shoulder". Why I said "freaky pony" I will never know. Standing there trying not to be embarrassed (he did this in front of company), and trying not to let double over with laughter I reverted to junior high school talk I suppose! However I must admit it was perhaps the funniest thing that happened all day, if not all week.

With Patch's passing, I've tried to give them space and reassurance while the new dynamic falls into place. My place in the "dynamic" has not changed, Katie's and Tex's they have changed. I've tried to let them have the space to figure that out.

I think they'll be ok. I do, for the record, know that shoulder licking is not something a "good mannered" pony does and will correct the same as soon as I stop laughing!

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Rainbows, Unicorns, & all that is practical

I was told the other day by a "horse professional" (and I will leave it at that cause whom said it isn't as important as the fact that it was said) that the difference between this person and myself was simple; they were practical and I was impractical. It was said as I was explaining what happened to Patch and added how the grief for this horse had brought me to my knees. That's when the "impractical vs. practical" comment was made. I choose not to voice my opinion right then or frankly to this person; it would do me no good.

I woke this morning and my very first thought was about Patch. I had never ever considered the possibility of Patch leaving. It quite honestly never occurred to me, or perhaps "unheard of" would better describe my feelings surrounding the possibility. It still seems unreal to me. I have always known that there was a possibility of Katie going to live with someone else, it was pretty much the plan to find Katie that special little girl that could jump with Katie. With Tex, I would love to think that Texas will never find another home but "technically" speaking it is always a possibility. When Patch came here he was to never ever without a doubt never go anywhere else for the rest of his days; those days should have lasted so much longer that his leaving when he did...it just never entered my mind as a possibility. Perhaps in that sense I was "impractical", I don't believe my grief to be impractical. 

Patch was an incredible soul, he was strong, brave, proud, and wise. I swear that horse could look at me and say more then half the people I know. He told on Texas a LOT and I'm serious. Tex thinks he is the king of all that is Hidden Springs, we all let him, however once in while he needs to be reminded that his Crown is a privilege not a right. Patch would seriously look to Tex, look to me, look to Tex and look to me until I did something about whatever Tex would not let Patch have (typically food related). When there were apples involved Patch knew to walk up to the top with a simple point from me in that direction; again Tex... He would come to the front door and stand there and patiently wait for me to notice him so he could be given a carrot or an apple and if all was right with the world a peppermint. I watched him stand there and watch me eat dinner at the kitchen island, waiting patiently. He got a treat afterward for his patience alone. I've seen him walk to the truck and point to the bed when he knew oats were in there, I've seen him sneak a bite of hay that was on the truck and look right at you like "ummm yes well you left it there" and all but smile. He liked one stall in the barn (we have three). If you put him in that stall he pooped in the back and kept the front totally clean. If you put him Anywhere else, he made a complete utter mess of things. If you were sitting in the driveway he would walk up and literally stand next to your chair for as long as he could, or Tex came around. He didn't really "need" anything but to be next to you, so he'd just stand there. He'd chase Leo within an inch of his little behind, backing off when he got too close. He discovered potato chips and thought he'd found horsey heaven. He protested every time he saw his blanket in a way that reminded me of an old man being told he had to wear a hearing aid, crotchety but so damned lovable you hugged them anyway. He pinned his ears and swung his head around to stare every time I fussed over his tail but after a minute his head was down and he was either eating or drifting half asleep. 

He came here so passive, I don't think he'd have protested anything. He came here pretty sore and pretty unhealthy. I got to watch him find himself and his voice again, I am sure there are some out there that would claim that "impractical" however I was damned proud of him. In my world of rainbows and unicorns we all deserve a voice and we all deserve a place in which that voice can be heard without fear. Patch had that here, he was able to find that again, and I got to love him through it. There is really no greater honor.

Yes I sat with a "dead horse" covered in a tarp, shivering and talking to the wind. Yes I wanted to curl up and never wake up when he died. No I didn't understand it. Yes I blamed myself and talked myself down a million times since last Tuesday. Yes I slept with his tail and yes it is on my night stand and I smell it before bed and did again this morning when I woke and remembered that he is still gone. I cried this morning when I went to deliver breakfast and didn't hear his nicker; did I collapse? No. Did I cry a little? Yes. Will I continue to hurt from his loss? Yes. Will I eventually look back at pictures and not find a tear in my eye? Yes etc etc etc. 

Is honoring the love we shared, and yes it was shared, by allowing myself to grieve that impractical? No, I think not. Is it impractical to believe, with all my heart, that the grief has nothing to do with the number of legs Patch had or the language he spoke and everything to do with who he was? To a lot I suppose so. Patch, I am sure would disagree; he knew who he was and he knew who I was. He didn't care that I couldn't gallop anymore then I cared that he couldn't open his own bag of oats. There was love, a lot of it. Without Patch there is a hole; I'm not so impractical as to believe it will remain gaping forever. I am however impractical enough to honor our love by grieving in whatever way I need. I think he'd be proud of me for that. 

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Patch

I'm almost afraid to touch the subject of Patch. I'm still lost somewhere in that hour before I saw him standing there holding his leg in the oddest position.

I was walking to the store, that's not odd. They all followed me through the pasture, it's a short cut, that's not odd. When I told them "No Tex, no Katie, Patch go back" it was not odd. When I heard them running as I made my way up the road, it was not odd. There was nothing remarkable about the exchange, nothing at all. I walked away, sorta shaking my head at the "antics".

I came back, no less than an hour and a half later, and saw Patch standing stock still, looking my way, holding his leg in a position that even I could see from a distance (I'm half blind at a distance) was really really bad. I remember walking closer to him and half way thinking "no, no, just no" and half way thinking "what the heck has he gotten himself into now, damn it Patch".

The horror that ran through me when I knew it was "no, no, just no" and not "damn it Patch" came like waves; one second there they were playing at my feet, the next second seemingly pulling me under, only to let go so I could dance away just in time for it to start again. I held him, stroked his neck, gave him some munchies, he couldn't even bend all the way down to get his hay so I was hoisting it up for him, I talked to him. Not one ounce of what I said made any sense. All I could think was "Oh God no not Patch not him please god not him". I knew for Patch I had to shut up the fear and just let him know I loved him so very much, I'd always love him and how oh so special he was, so I just kept repeating it all over and over. Perhaps my need to say it over and over was for both our comfort. I told him how brave he was, how strong he was and that if we could we'd do everything to fix this, everything, anything.

My friends came over, Jenny and Kate and soon Kenneth and Kate's dad followed and Dale was here as well. I was praying Kate would see Patch and say "Ok now we know how you get all worried, he just popped something out of socket, he'll live". She didn't, she confirmed what I already knew. We all stood by him, got him some oats and hand fed him while three young women who loved this horse dearly talked to him and each other about the vet coming and telling us it's a blown muscle or something no one had seen before and that he'd make it through again. He had come through so very much, this could not be happening, not to Patch.

When Kate first got here I fell apart in her arms, this is not something I do, however the pain I felt when I looked at him was so intense I lost it. I look back and wonder if she had any idea that I'd fall into her arms and blow snot all over her sweater when she confirmed what I already knew. His leg was beyond repair. The vet came and made it all too clear again. It's all murky for me, the time that the vet was here, and it's all so vivid that each memory brings me to tears. It's as if time stood still the moment he said "Oh no that doesn't look good, there is nothing we can do, you can feel the breaks, his leg is swollen with blood, the one good thing is there is no wrestling with a decision here, we can do nothing for him except put him down..." I think those words followed by, "right here?" will haunt me for a very long time.

He was crazy gentle with Patch, and me. He explained it, he helped Patch down when the sedative took hold. Patch, right till the end didn't want anything to do with laying down, I suspect he knew that once down he'd not be up again. He didn't thrash about, he didn't make a huge fuss, he just didn't want to go down, the Dr. guided him in the end.

I sat with him while the Dr listened for his heart beat to stop and repeated the same I love yous that I had been repeating to him for the last two hours. I pray he knew I was at his side, holding him while he left.

After everyone left I sat with him some more and cried to my mom on the phone. I remember telling her I was freezing and that it couldn't be the weather cause it was not cold. I had been shaking since I saw him standing in the pasture with his leg all bend but I couldn't go anywhere, I sat there and thought how odd it was that I could not make my legs move, I could not get up and go get the jacket my mom said I probably should go get. So I sat there, holding his face, apologizing for fussing over his face when I knew he hated it, and promised him I'd resist the urge to bring up the brushes and make him "pretty".

I knew I should go comfort Tex and Katie cause they were watching me from their windows but I didn't know how, not right then, fuck I could barely move truth be told. Finally Leo, sitting a good hundred feet away got me to move. He was scared, I couldn't let him just sit there sacred. We went in the house for about an hour. I spoke to a friend of mine and asked if I was crazy to want to brush him and be there sitting in the middle of the pasture with him covered in a tarp. The tarp just drove me crazy, I hated covering him like that. It seemed so horribly undignified for such a proud proud soul. Jenny thank god, understood this and brought his blanket up so his gorgeous wonderful face was covered in that and not some god forsaken tarp. My friend assured me that I was not crazy and if sitting with him was what I wanted then by god go sit with him.

I sat with Patch until about 10pm. I talked to him about everything, about how special he was, about how I'd miss his standing at the front door waiting on a carrot, how proud I was to have been part of his life, how incredibly brave and wonderful he was always, how lucky I was to have known him, how sorry I was that he had to leave, and promised again that I'd not bring up the brushes and fuss over him cause I knew how much he hated it (or at least acted like he hated it).

The next day we (Kate, Jenny and I) called to have him removed and cremated. Kate and Jenny somehow knew what I needed yesterday and delivered it to me without one single word. We went to lunch, we went to see Perris, Charlie, and Lady, we went to meet a fabulous woman who was rescuing two ponies and then we came back to the farm to meet the gentleman who was to remove Patch. I will be forever grateful for the people that helped him through this, the Dr, the service that took him, not to mention my friends, there was respect and love in every moment.

I have wished so hard, over the last two days, to find the words that would do Patch justice. Words that would serve him well, explain somehow to whomever was listening that this horse was not just a horse. He was brave and proud and out spoken and smarter than most people I know. I looked at Patch every single day, a thousand times a day and every single glance found my heart swelling with love, every single glance. I may never be able to touch Patch with the written word and do him justice, he was and is beyond words for me right now. One day I hope to be able to tell his story, for today I will simply close with I love him, I will always love him and not a day will go by when I don't picture his blanketed rear end, or remember how many times he looked at me and spoke through a turn of his head or a blink of his eye.

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The trouble with poetry (and ponies)

Recently I put a collection of my poetry together and published it through Amazon as well as Barnes and Nobel. Not long after I put it on Amazon and saw a few sales, but a relatively flat response, I started to wonder. I did not advertise it with anything more than minimal effort however even with that minimal effort a little interest could be reasonably expected. I wondered what it was about poetry that made most everyone shy away, perhaps applaud the "courage" they thought it took to expose yourself in such a manner however consuming it (for lack of a better word) not so much. Let's face it, people don't generally read poetry, a lot of people have preconceived notions that play into that but by in large I believe it is because we don't want to think. We really don't have to anymore, and we certainly don't want to.

There you have the connection between pony and poem. We (collectively) don't want to think, and they certainly deserve thought. 

Considering all this I have decided that the two truly do belong together and any sales from the poetry book should go to Pony Up Rescue in Olalla, Wa; people who DO think about the ponies!

Below is a sample from the book and a couple links to purchase...with any luck we can generate thought, if not for poetry then maybe for the ponies...

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Moving-On-ebook/dp/B004MPRAZM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1311215945&sr=8-1

Barnes and Nobel:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Moving-On/Carol-Flores/e/2940013647459

From the book:

Witness

There was a second when I thought to breathe,
to feel, to crawl under my own skin, turn it
right-side out, claim nothing more
than capability. As if disrobing
mid-sentence were entirely normal (accepted).
More likely it'd find you half undressed
with as much life as an eight (times 7) year old
hound stuck somewhere in Iowa exhausted
with July and it's knee high corn, serving him
as much purpose as you, naked on some corner,
skin all upside down and backward, stumbling over
your words, wondering who's idea was this anyway?
Still there was that second when I thought to reach under,
to touch myself as if I cared a great deal.
You came to watch, and did so fascinated
it was hard to tell which was more beautiful
more natural, you struck silent
or me, struck alive by my own hand
at your witness


I choose this poem because so many misunderstand the original intent. It used to insult me that everyone that read it believed it to be about the obvious. Anymore I figure it's none of my business what the reader chooses to see, it's enough that they took the time to "see"...

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Patch, a lesson in listening

Last Saturday we had company on the farm and there were small people that wanted to pay attention to the ponies, the ponies love this. They get brushed on, talked to sweetly, and treats are generally involved.

On Tuesday we had company again. There was some brushing, there was some ohh and ahh'ng, there were pieces of melon, and there was a lot of sweet talk.

The children involved in both cases were no younger than nine and not ever in the presence of the ponies without myself and or Dale.

Texas and Katie loved this. I could wax poetic about the feeling of joy that comes when I see a young person touch a tail and light up like a shooting star however that is another post.

Patch was not a big fan. He tolerated this "pretty pretty pony" thing I had going on with the little people on Saturday, probably confident that it was not to continue. He became mildly irritated with me allowing these strange people (I don't think it had much to do with the fact that they were little people) to come into his room on Saturday. He also voiced that, mildly, Saturday.

Patch has a crabby face when he wants to. Patch also has a "I'm not speaking to you" face.

I got them both on Saturday.

On Tuesday I got the crabby, I'm not speaking to you, cause now I'm pissed, face. I even got the don't you dare touch me and get that "other" person out of my room glare.

I didn't get out of his room. I did have the little person get me a halter and leave the "room". She had been standing by the gate during the series of faces, no where near Patch; it was me he was mad at, not her.

I put the halter on him and proceeded to brush him out. He didn't move about, I didn't get any mean faces. I got Patch standing there, a little smug and a little resigned.

It was just him and I, she (the little person) was standing outside the stall. I talked, Patch mostly stood there and tolerated. I'm not sure he listened so much as he stood there and hoped that maybe I'd figure it out since he couldn't speak English.

I didn't say anything profound. I was confused by his obvious displeasure and I hadn't figured it out yet. I only knew that if I walked away I'd miss something important, so I stood with him and brushed and said things like "wow Patch what was that about?" and brushed some more. He stood there, in a halter, which is unheard of for something as simple as brushing in the stall, and looked almost as confused as I was.

We finished up and after everyone had left the barn area I went in to talk to Patch. He was still not happy and although he was not as pissed, he clearly wasn't going to come play kissy face before final lights out. I turned out the lights and went down to the house.

I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he was so upset. What he was telling me was clear, he was not cool with people he didn't know really, strangers if you will, fussing over him. I kept thinking "ya know maybe he didn't like you letting someone else play pretty pretty pony with him". It's not like anyone was hurting him, we are talking a soft brush and a lot of innocent, starry eyed wonder showered on him. That being said I suppose it could be a bit like being put on display I.E. playing pretty pretty pony.

Texas and Katie love it.

Patch, I think, does not.

Patch tried on Saturday to politely tell me that he had boundaries and this was one he'd like to keep intact.

I didn't listen.

He told me again on Tuesday, a little less politely. I was listening, I just didn't understand what I was hearing.

Patch has never been pissed at me, and he clearly was. He was not "speaking" to me. He tolerated me on Wednesday, sorta gave an inch on Thursday and today actually did me the favor of slobbering on my hand.

I'm pretty sure I am forgiven. That being said Wednesday afternoon I apologized for not quite getting why he was upset. Thursday I apologized again, knowing where I had gone wrong, and Friday morning I stood with him and without apologizing and just told him how much I loved him while he ate his breakfast.

Last night he was his normal self, he stood at the kitchen door waiting for me to notice him for a good five minutes (perhaps patience equals a treat?), he came up to the lawn chairs to say hi at least five million times, he nuzzled my hand, slobbered on me, and even reminded me that sometimes my back is the best scratching post ever.

I don't think my "most favorite handsome pony ever" likes to be fussed over and or rather put on display. I think what Patch was telling me was "I love you, and you, you can do whatever you'd like so long as it does NOT include random people coming into my room and fussing over me as if I am a barbie doll pony, I'm over that, retired remember??"

Shorty, Apache, or Patch has served so many people. At twenty (give or take a year) I think that if anyone deserves to kick back and "do nothing more than be a horse" it's Patch. Normally, I don't ask him to do much more than be Patch, and he knows it.

Normally, he doesn't have to work so hard to tell me something so simple.

Lesson (or rather lessons) learned, again...

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Tiny Budda experiment part one

In one of the daily Tiny Budda emails that come daily (if you are wise enough to subscribe) there was a list of questions. It took me eight days of off and on thinking to answers these questions, oddly enough the answers I put down were no different then the answers I had eight days ago. What I was pondering all those eight days was more how to phrase the answers as opposed to what the answers really were. I answered them this evening, short and simple. I resisted my urge to elaborate on each answer, instead I emailed them back, in the short version, to the friend that originally sent me the email (it was before I was wise enough to subscribe myself!).

I'm going to use the blog to elaborate on the questions, one by one. They are great questions, questions I'd recommend answering. I am also dying to elaborate on the questions, hence the "Tiny Budda experiment".

The first question is simple.

1. Why are you here?

My answer was equally simple, to learn.

I believe that we are all here to learn, I believe pieces of us return after each visit and continue to learn. I believe that our final journey ends only when the lessons have all been learned, makes for a long journey if you think about the number of possible lessons.

I believe this life is teaching me over and over the value of patience, of acceptance, of love. I believe it is my responsibility to learn those lessons and use them to show others, and myself, that it doesn't have to be so very hard; hard in this case identifies an approach, a stance, a view.

I've heard, and some of you have probably heard as well, that there is no "easier softer way", I believe that. I've always believed that, I've also always warped that into "one must learn the hard way". I've used that to dismiss the very core of my belief system, there is a gentle way of life.

I'm learning that gentle does not necessarily mean "easier and softer"; neither does gentle mean weak.

If one day I can take these lessons in gentleness and help one living thing see that life and love alike do not have to hurt then I suppose my "job" this time around will be done. Perhaps next time around the gods will appreciate that they taught me this time with very little capitol and give me a better paying lesson next time around :-)

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