Clever titles are overrated.

Have you ever stood in a seriously dirty room, turned in a circle, and summarily walked out? That's about how I feel about my blog tonight.

I thought I'd figure out a clever title and that would keep me focused. As you can see/read, that did not happen.

So I'm stuck in this horribly dirty room hoping for a little focus, if we're lucky I'll get profound.

Perhaps a list?

1. A family came and looked at Katie. I haven't heard from them and am trying to forget they ever came; not because they might not buy Katie. I'd like to forget them because I don't like (in a big way) the thought of selling Katie, period.

2. Rev has what appears to be a cold. I'm trying not to obsess. I am going to put him back on Vitamin C and get him some probiotics, if only to make myself feel better. I don't know that he has a cold but his nose is runny, it was very runny today when Cathy and I were working with him. His eye also had goop, nothing like when he first came still, there was goop.

3. We attempted to put a bridle on Rev today and he was none too pleased. It bothers me that he didn't want anything to do with it. It does not bother me because that means we will have to go slow, we all know I am not a let's jump on the horse kinda gal. Let's face it, the last thing I ask/require is them accepting me on their back. I don't, and wouldn't, give two shits if it took Rev and I months to get there. It bothers me because he was unhappy and I am not sure the cause. It could be his teeth, which I have to address regardless. It could be something that happened to him prior that has him so intent on rejecting. It's hard to say. It really doesn't matter if it's either or a combination of the two. It just means we address everything slowly and we call the dentist for good measure. It bothers me, this idea that he is scared and/or uncomfortable. We will get through it, of that I have no doubt. Still, it bothers me that he is bothered. And so we do another do-si-do around the messy room that has become my blog.

4. I simply must figure out what I'm going to do with myself. This particular room is so messy I only do a half circle before I walk out.

There we have a list, a relatively useless one at that. Normally I am a big fan of lists; tonight I am just a big fan of making them as a distraction.

The last item on that list is the problem, it has me walking in circles that make little sense; as if walking in circles ever makes sense!

What to do? What do to?

Fact is, I can't imagine the care of horses not being the core of what I 'do with myself'. Fact is, that will never find me in a position where budgets matter little. Fact is, I could sell my soul to the software world and make the material problems less material. Fact is, selling my soul is exactly how it would feel. Actually, betrayal comes to mind when I seriously consider it. That's interesting, who would I be betraying? I think myself and the animals as well. I remember sitting paralyzed by fear when I was kicked off the island, I remember looking at the horses or Leo and feeling myself come back. I remember vowing to never find myself in a place where 12 hours away from home was normal. It'd be a betrayal of the highest order, perhaps that's why I liken it to 'selling my soul'. Strangely enough when all this started I was convinced I'd never find myself, much less my way, unless I went back to what I 'did'. I defined myself through my work, my 'success', without that what was I?

Turns out, I am a lot more. Also turns out that figuring out what to do with that 'a lot' is much like an ultra messy room on a bright sunny day; slightly overwhelming, especially when you don't turn the circle and walk out.

Read More

No one left bread crumbs

Sitting here I have written at least five opening sentences. It is not surprising that the topic that finds me unable to write is Katie.

I placed an ad for Katie about a month ago. I didn't renew the ad after the initial seven days expired, mostly because I don't really want anyone to answer the ad! I got a couple responses, only one that was worth my, or Katie's, time.

I have worried over Katie's future for a long time, I'd say it started the minute I saw her. I look at her and I only want the absolute best for her. She has always, always, evoked the very best in me.

There is something very special about Katie that makes it really hard not to fall in love with her. It's not because she is an easy, laid back pony that anyone could crawl on. It's not because she is an angel in the pasture with the other horses either :-).

Katie is smart, sensitive, and tends to think she is a Princess in horse form. She is a bossy pain in the ass to the other horses that share her barn, pasture, and people.

Katie is expressive, if she is upset or frustrated she will shake her head. She will pin her ears and look like a giant snake, not to mention the scariest pony ever, if the dog comes near her; she won't however, hurt the dog.

Katie thinks she is the most important person on the property.

Katie will rub her nose on you like the biggest ant eater you've ever seen however, she would never bite you.

Katie loves watermelon, cantaloupe, bananas, and pretty much any fruit that she is allowed (is safe) to eat. I make homemade horse treats; Katie is the worse tester ever (she loves everything!).

Katie is so clean in her stall that I suspect she'd go outside if only she could figure out the latch on her stall door.

Katie was treated poorly when she was young, by a trainer that asked her in ways that were harsh. Have I mentioned that Katie is sensitive?

Katie was passed around a lot; a lot of people have "owned" Katie. Have I mentioned that Katie is sensitive?

Katie had/has trust issues.

Katie has worked very hard to get over the better part of that. Sarah helped bring Katie to where she is today. The horse Katie was when she began with Sarah is not the horse that enjoys the farm today. A lot of the trust that Katie has found in herself is due to the time she spent with Sarah.

Watching her today with that young girl I felt so proud; proud for her, not of her. I do believe there is a difference.

They arrived and Katie and Brody were in the pasture. I called Katie and she came, they remarked on how she was easy to catch. I don't suppose they realized that any time I call Katie it means something good so why wouldn't she come!? Anyway we stood in the pasture for a few minutes; Brody was very curious to see a halter being put on Katie in the pasture. We walked down to the arena area with Brody in tow and talked a bit.

They had brought their saddles/tack (upon request) and while the trainer and the girls went to get everything, I stood there with Katie and I inside the arena and the girl's dad on the outside with a slightly confused Brody. Brody had taken a real shine to the father by the end of the visit.

I, naturally, had to launch into a "all that is unattractive about Katie" speech. I think he thought I was nuts. He'd ask "How is she with the farrier?" I'd babble "Oh gosh, she's great with the farrier, and her feet are solid, she's actually really easy." All of that is true. It does not have to be followed up by "you know, she's great in all the 'regular horse' ways but she is sensitive and she is smart so she needs someone that is experienced, she sorta expects her rider to know what they are doing, and you know she is a mare, she's not bitchy (oops pardon my language) when she is in season but she is a mare and she is usually the lead mare, not with people but with horses she can be kinda bitchy (oops pardon my language)..." The poor guy, it happened when he asked about the farrier, loading, and even grooming.

I could just as easily said, yes please buy/care lease my horse because she's a great fit for your daughter but oh wait no don't do that cause I can't stand the thought of her really leaving so perhaps this is a bad idea.

A shame no one left breadcrumbs; had they, this path might be easier to navigate.

Read More

Calgon take me away (or all that is scary in a world of washracks).

Rev moved up to the ranch (Diamond Hill) Friday. He did really well; he was loaded into a trailer that surely had teeth, lead into a washrack that had a drain that could suck down Godzilla, and still, he survived!

Rev was nervous, there was poop; on the driveway, in the trailer, in the washrack, there was poop.

He really did do well. Rev has only had two owners before myself. So this is, in my world of unicorns and rainbows, the third place he's lived. I do realize that he's probably resided in more homes than he has had owners. When we loaded him in the trailer, he didn't want to go. I don't begin to really know why he didn't want to go into that trailer. I have my ideas; one of which is that because his life had been recently shaken up he was in no mood to have that happen again; trailers mean new places and he had grown comfortable where he was.

It could have also been as simple as he didn't like the straight load.

Who knows? Rev. In the end, it was not a huge (or long) ordeal, got in the trailer and off he went. Cathy was driving the truck and I was following her, when we got there she remarked that he was quiet as a mouse. He was, it appeared, busy pooping.

After a bit we started the process of giving him a bath. You have to understand, Rev has a lot of hair. I'm talking woolly monster hairy! Rev's hair was also pretty dirty. I had been dying to give him a bath. I'd have likely moved him to Diamond Hill just for the washrack truth be told.

So we walk Rev in and out a few times, Cathy then me. Cathy turned on the water and we did it some more. I am pretty sure Rev thought the drain was gonna suck him right down into god knows where. He'd do really well for a bit then he'd remember that he was terrified and back he'd go, right out of the washrack with me in tow. He didn't lift me off the ground every time we went flying out of the washrack, he only did that about five times. We'd go back in, his little heart beating a mile a minute and we'd continue. The water was warm and there was a lot, a lot, of soothing conversations and pets, in the end we got through it just fine.

I woke up the next day puzzled that my arm was sore. It's still pretty sore today. He's a big guy and apparently being lifted up by one arm can result in a little soreness in the following days.

I wrote that off and on throughout the weekend and in re-reading it I must say, it's a pretty boring post. It's Monday now and I am happy to report my arm is intact. Rev has had a good couple days and seems happy there. He made friends with Rio, he and Rio share a pasture during the day. He also adores Sophie, she is in the stall next to Rev.

I'll write more this evening because I really am excited about him being up there and it's been a good few first days for him. For now however I am just going to publish this rather boring post about my arm so I can get it out of the way!

Read More

You don't have to climb into the ring with the gorilla.

I'm often viewed as passive. I refuse to believe that a physical reaction is anything but that; a reaction, and a stupid one at that.

This is not to say that I do not get angry enough to want to physically punish someone for a hurt caused to me or a being I love.

That is a huge misconception.

I've tried many times to write on this subject. There is a phrase that dances around in my head every time I sit down and attempt to explain my feelings surrounding violence. I choose, every single time, not to use it. It's melodramatic and belongs in a poem, buried beneath metaphor.

Truth is I don't believe in violence. I have never believed that wacking someone, human or otherwise, taught them anything other than "If you do this you will get wacked and that will hurt". It effectively teaches fear. It generally does not teach the why behind the no. I still can't wrap my head around people thinking that this will result in a well behaved and responsible anyone, human or otherwise.

Truth is, I have never punched someone partly because I can't stand the thought of hearing the sound it must make much less feeling it run up my arm.

Truth is, I don't like myself so much when I am that angry and would likely like myself less if I actually clocked the source of that anger, human or otherwise.

When you look at it like that, my beliefs could be viewed as completely self serving.

Truth is, I really do believe we have a choice. I also believe that it takes more strength to walk away (literally and figuratively speaking) from violence (in all forms) than it takes to participate in the same.

Truth is, I believe, in part, that it takes more strength because our society tells us that those that do walk away are weak. No one wants to be viewed as weak. Pride, God love it.

Truth is, I believe, in part, that it takes more strength because it requires thought, it makes you look at the why behind the no (figuratively speaking); not just the reaction to the same.

You really don't have to climb into the ring with the gorilla, it is a choice, one that often takes more strength than most believe.

Read More