tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77734253743403368422024-02-19T05:48:27.259-08:00Too many titles, not enough horseAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-19696094367859107752015-01-02T23:00:00.003-08:002015-01-02T23:00:49.610-08:00I almost gave up the blog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been so very long since I visited the "horsey blog" I almost don't know where to start.<br />
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Austen has left us, he is why I almost gave up the blog. The anger I felt at his coming to me led to a post I am still quite embarrassed over. It contained more anger and judgement then I knew I had and I didn't like it. I didn't even like it after I posted an apology, I seriously considered giving up writing about the horses after that.<br />
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He's gone now. He left us on December 2nd. He had ringbone and severe arthritis. Both had fractured off. I honestly didn't know that arthritic build up could fracture off, I didn't know ringbone could do the same. I fight, daily, the idea that he was in more pain than I knew, that he suffered longer than I knew. I console myself with the knowledge that I allowed his pain to end the moment I saw it clearly. It still hurts, I still miss him, I still stare at the braided tail that I have saved and placed next to Patch's. It doesn't get easier, you just learn how to better cope.<br />
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You pick up the manure fork and you clean the other stalls. You pull out the brushes and you take your time brushing Lou's tail. You remember how much Brody loves Cheerios and you bring them up to the barn. You move on. You remember why you do it and you do it again. Not to replace them, never to replace them, rather to honor them by letting another into your heart.<br />
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Enter Sassy, a beautiful mare that presented herself to me through the wonders of rescue networking. I remember seeing the post go up, the plea for a home for this lovely mare who was soon to be without a home.<br />
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I remember sitting right where I am tonight, with Jack's head on my lap and Leo in the bed, no sound but the fingers typing a message I didn't want to send about a horse I didn't want to care about. Sixteen days after Austen let us. It was too soon for me to reply to the post publicly so I sent a message instead. I was as afraid as I was guilty, for caring about this mare who had the softest of eyes and nowhere to go.<br />
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I sent the message. Agreed to meet her, knew I was had, and I was right.<br />
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I went to meet her. I didn't spend much time with her, I didn't ride her. I watched her with a young woman who loved her dearly. I saw the kindness in her eye. I saw the love she had grown to know at the hands of the young woman who could not keep her and all I wanted was to keep her safe, see her happy, watch her run. I didn't even care if I ever rode her and that's when I knew I was had. That's when I knew it was right.<br />
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She's been home a week today. She could spend the rest of her days as Brody and Lou do, prancing about the pasture, eating away all my money, sampling Cheerios and Granola Bars, kicking over water buckets, and playing I'm in charge of the barn; I'd be happy with that.<br />
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She is different though, from the boys. Her and I could, and will, have fun in and out of the saddle. I look forward to "not being done" with her; I am pretty sure she'd say the same.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-69891405000927157872013-11-11T20:57:00.001-08:002013-11-11T20:57:26.921-08:00Anger, for what it's worth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My last post caused quite a stir, it was about Austen, it named the woman I held responsible, it publicly shamed the same. I know better.<br />
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I wish I could have stepped outside of my anger long enough to realize how scared she must have been watching him lose the weight he lost.<br />
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I've been there, scared to death that I'd not be able to do enough for a horse I had taken on.<br />
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In my defense I asked for help.<br />
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In her defense, she thought she had done the same. I disagree. I still believe that she did a great injustice to him on a few levels. I do not believe she went as far as she could for him. I still think someone needs to stand up when those injustices are done, regardless of intent. I do know that expressing that in anger solves nothing.<br />
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I apologize for my assumption that she did not care enough. Again, I know better than to put that out there. I, typically, recognize my anger for what it is and examine it before I unleash it. I did not do that in the case of my last post. As a result of that I accomplished nothing more than publicly shaming when I could have publicly educated.<br />
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For that, I apologize. To Austen who deserved a better telling of his story. To Shannon who deserved a little compassion even if I didn't feel it. To myself as well; the post has haunted me for it's lack of compassion and forgiveness. I strive to live my life with great compassion and next time I will do my level best to remember the same before the anger, for what it's worth, clouds that.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-564037056401721882013-10-08T17:38:00.000-07:002013-10-09T21:09:04.898-07:00Open letter to the person whom will remain nameless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear person whom will remain nameless,<br />
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You don't know me personally, I suggest we keep it that way. You and I meeting would simply challenge every peace loving, forgiving bone in my body; I can see nothing good coming from that. I know of you only through a very sweet older Tennessee Walker you were given the opportunity to love. You likely only know of me because I posted his before and after pictures on a horse related web page that we both belong to. You deleted the post, I know this because the admin of the page confirmed they did not. I suppose I understand you deleting the post, goodness knows had I done what you've done I'd likely want little in the way of public evidence. I did speak to the admin of the page and out of respect for the community and the admin decided that I'd address you here in my own forum. Good luck in deleting my blog :-)<br />
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Austen has been with me for a little over a month now. He has gained back the weight he lost under your care, his eyes are bright again, his coat is shiny again, and has personality is coming back strong as well. It's been a trying month for him and our little family here but we're all coming along fine. This, by the way, is no thanks to you.<br />
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This is what Austen looked like after you neglected to care for him for the two months (barely) that you had him.<br />
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Let me ask you, does that look like the face of a happy horse? Or maybe I should be a bit more to the point, do you see the look of defeat? </div>
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This is the horse you took on as a horse for a young girl who needed a safe and sane horse to learn with, to grow with. This horse would have been perfect for such a task. You do not get a kinder soul than the one that you took home. </div>
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This is what you did him! You are the reason his hind end will likely not be well enough to ever carry anyone again. Not only did you not feed him properly, you had the audacity to plop two adults on him at once. Had Austen been stronger and or another horse you and your riding buddy might have landed ass over tea kettle. As it stands he didn't toss you and your equally ignorant friend, rather he further strained an already older and taxed hind end trying to do what you were asking of him. Please save any denial of knowledge concerning his abilities because I happen to remember the thread that caught your attention and led to your taking him home. I also know his previous owners, Joe and Stacey Bryan, very well and know without a shred of doubt that you were told of his limitations. You ignored them and plopped two full grown adults on him. In case you need a lesson in weight bearing, Austen is roughly 15hh and maybe 950 pounds when he is at his best. A horse "should" carry approximately 15-20% of their weight. Let's say Austen was at his optimum weight (we're pretending now because he was anything but that once you got your hands on him) he could carry approximately 190lbs without much trouble. Judgments aside I think it's safe to say yourself plus tack finds us there without the addition of another adult. So congrats on fucking up his back leg, likely permanently. Maybe one day this summer Austen and I will be able to walk around and pretend we're on a trail riding adventure, no one else will be able to climb up on him though and our adventure will be limited at best. I happen to top the scales at a whopping 117 on a bad day in case you wondered about me hurting him. Please do not mistake that last sentence as anything but sarcasm, we both know your concern does not lie with Austen's well being.</div>
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Considering his condition I am assuming you might also need a lesson in nutrition. Austen is older, this you were aware of. Older horses rarely survive on hay alone. I'm going to assume you've never had the pleasure of owning an older animal. </div>
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Austen needed grain and beet pulp along with his hay, I know this is not something that was left out in the transfer of his care. Again, I do know the couple whom you received Austen from and have for long enough to know that you were well informed. Austen also can not, rather will not, eat on the ground. Again, information you were given freely. Seems you also felt free enough to ignore the advice. Perhaps you are one of the many who figure "he's just a horse". Please feel free to offer my condolences to the other animals in your care, from what I've seen they will need it as they progress in age (if they don't already).</div>
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I've thought and thought about how he could have deteriorated so rapidly under your care. It took me a couple weeks to really nail it down however I did come to a very well educated conclusion. I am pleased to share the same with you. You did not listen to one word of advice given to you when you took him home. You tossed him hay like he was just your every day average well broke kids horse and ignored any and all signs that he was not getting what he needed. You continued to do this until you had no recourse but to return him, a shell of his former self, to his original owners. You even had the nerve to act dumbfounded. </div>
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How in the hell did you not notice the weight falling off of him? </div>
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You didn't pay him any attention that's how. </div>
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How the hell did you let him go from healthy to half fucking dead before you acted?</div>
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You didn't pay attention that's how.</div>
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You should be ashamed of yourself. You should be apologizing all over yourself and him for what you did to him. He is a living, breathing, feeling being and you treated him like garbage.</div>
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Over the last month, he's come back to himself. It wasn't too terribly hard. We had to take it slow, he started on four smaller meals a day as to not shock his completely run down body. We made sure he had the peace he needed to eat by making sure he was away from the other boys here whom by the way are anything but "aggressive". Austen barely had the energy to get himself up from laying down, I surely wouldn't expect him to tell another horse to bugger off his dinner so he had an area to himself. We spent time brushing him, talking to him, loving him. And guess what has happened.....</div>
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He came back! He's enjoying more time with the boys here, he's becoming vocal again, he's alert, and he is starting to remember that even though there are people like you out there that could give two shakes about his well being he is safe. </div>
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You really ought to be completely ashamed of what you did to this gentle being. You owe him the biggest apology one can imagine for what you put him through. Don't get me wrong you won't ever get close enough to him to offer up that apology, perhaps you can offer it up to the next animal you treat like a toy.</div>
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I do promise to make sure to warn every horse person I know about the likes of you if they are leasing or selling a horse in your general area. I've done plenty of that already and an army of Austen's supporters have as well. I will continue to do so for as long as I am able. </div>
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You completely disregarded any and all advice surrounding his care and put his very life in danger. It is a terrible shame that nothing outside of my blog can be done.</div>
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A terrible shame.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-10592670385903481322013-09-14T23:30:00.000-07:002013-09-14T23:30:00.721-07:00Pussy footing around<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I would like to talk about Austen, I have been a little hesitant to discuss him for a couple of reasons. It was hard for me to come to terms with what had happened to him and I wanted to discuss it without anger. My being angry and writing almost always results in swearing and rambling. I also wanted us to have a chance to settle. Finally I had to decide how angry I was going to stay at the lady whom is responsible for Austen's current condition as seen below.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_DOT7MYPmDGukOE2a4SS263zXIe3NKIO5PzGAjkyFSp1loIAXmYT7bwKafaS3Ena7GrB8RVmfPfO4_qw7An_rPajrbybdJdnXF8lm83Z6l7nNbJxwbieANstA8ke6GrL05A-AF6PjVs/s1600/1263916_10151864206836963_1697518678_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_DOT7MYPmDGukOE2a4SS263zXIe3NKIO5PzGAjkyFSp1loIAXmYT7bwKafaS3Ena7GrB8RVmfPfO4_qw7An_rPajrbybdJdnXF8lm83Z6l7nNbJxwbieANstA8ke6GrL05A-AF6PjVs/s320/1263916_10151864206836963_1697518678_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_152501333"></span><span id="goog_152501334"></span><br />
Austen is not some random horse that networking brought to my attention. Austen is the horse that helped me remember why I loved them all so much. I had come close to throwing in the towel when Austen walked into my life. It really doesn't matter why, let's just say I was at my wits end. Enter Austen, see below.<br />
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Yes, folks it is the same horse.<br />
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Austen was not my horse. I leased Austen.<br />
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Austen was eventually sold to a woman by the name of <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shannon. Shannon bought Austen for a young (like under 10) girl. Austen is absolutely perfect for a job like that. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Austen is also older, as we all know older often means a few quirks. Austen needs senior grain and beet pulp. Austen has a hard time with hay. His teeth are questionable, he won't eat on the ground (he'll pee on it and subsequently waste it all), he really needs to be supplemented with the grain/beet pulp. This is not only easy to </span></span><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">accommodate</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it is also pretty damn standard with an older horse.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don't know what happened with Austen when he at his "new" home. I only know the end result. He came back to his original owners in the condition of the first picture and came to me shortly thereafter. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">His original </span></span><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">owners</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and I have been friends for some time and had things worked out differently I probably would have bought Austen. As life happened I didn't have room and Austen went to Shannon.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Austen came to me shortly after he was returned to his original owners for a couple reasons. Austen and I have history, his owners trust me, I had room.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There has been an internal debate going on since Austen came to me. Is it worth my energy to be angry at this woman whom did not take care of him properly? With all the others that have made their way to me I figured it was not. My stance has always been, the person behind this mess doesn't matter, the animal in the mess does. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Enter Austen.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Austen, one of the kindest souls on the planet. Austen, the one that helped reaffirm my faith when I was pretty heartbroken and scared. Austen who came to my house a few days ago looking like Brody did when Drea found him.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don't know this lady that had him. I don't want to know her. I'm afraid I'd be very mean if I did know her. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Couple of questions, if she couldn't take care of him why did she hang onto him? A horse does not drop that weight overnight, why was she not paying attention? </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He did drop it rapidly, I'll give her that. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">That is all I will give her. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, I don't know what happened when he was with Shannon, I only truly know the end result of his time there. I can make an educated guess though.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Austen did not get anything but hay. She didn't listen. She may as well have not fed him for a month.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am completely flabbergasted by the situation. I'm livid. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've had others come into my care that have suffered at someone else's hand. It is always a little heartbreaking. I am always angry at the things people can do to animals when a new one comes into my life like that. Rarely am I as livid as I am at this woman. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've always thought to take the high road if you will. To focus on the animal not the person that brought them into your life. It has always seemed pointless to waste my time on that part of rescuing. It certainly didn't seem wise, forgiving, or healthy. It wasn't always easy. There have been days with each and every one of them where I am quite pissed at the person that brought them to me, their previous owners if you will. However I have traditionally chosen to let that go and focus on the horse in question. They come my way for a reason, each and every one of them. Most of them have passed through after getting healthy and I like to believe that somehow they'd remember me for giving them that second chance. I know I remember them for what they brought me, each one a lesson; sometimes an old one I needed to be reminded of and some a brand new one I had yet to consider. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Really their previous owners were almost always forgotten the minute the horse arrived, save the occasional "fucking people" thoughts.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This woman, this Shannon person that is still crawling about CL and FB looking for a pony for this young girl that was intended for Austen...</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm tired of pussy footing around about her. I think of her and I can feel the heat raise in my face. I can feel the change of expression come over me.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">How dare she take him on and think nothing of what he needs. Maybe she didn't realize how much effort he took. I have considered that and you know what I don't give two shits. Ignorance is the excuse for neglect far too often. If you don't know what you are doing, ask, research, call someone for fucks sake. This belief that you can toss every one of them two flakes of hay morning and night with no recourse is as bad as thinking that cats can be left behind cause they are hunters and will fend for themselves. Pisses me right off. There is absolutely no excuse.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe she didn't believe his owners when they explained his needs. Maybe she is of the mind that "he's just a horse". </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe she is just plain old neglectful. Maybe she just doesn't pay enough damn attention to own an older horse that has already ONCE been through neglect. Maybe she ought to buy a fish and leave the large animals to people who pay enough attention to care for them. It really floors me that with the proper information she choose not to care for him properly. I'd probably not be near as flabbergasted if I thought for one second that she was not told what he needed. I know his owners and I know she was given full disclosure. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Honestly I'd not care if she was flat out lied to. She did not pay attention. I can not, will not, excuse that. I am about sick of pussy footing around it. I've been flat out lied to about a horse. Who hasn't? That she was not flat out lied to just makes it that much worse.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes it bothers me more because it is him. Because I have cared for him before, because I love him, because I know him, have known him, because he was there for me. I admit that I am biased and am not as objective as I have been able to be in the past.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am about sick of people doing this shit. I am about sick of the pussy footing around. This woman hurt this horse. This woman hurt this horse with no fear of recourse. She hurt him then returned him as if there was not a thing wrong. He is god damn 150lbs underweight. His tail head is sticking out. His spine is exposed. His ribs are exposed. His coat is covered with that horrible film that only comes with a dose of neglect. You rub him and come back with this film on your hands. His hair is coming out like crazy. He doesn't have much in the way of energy. His back leg is worse off now being she and her buddies rode this child's horse double. She hurt him. He is not healthy at the moment. He will be ok however he will have scars. It infuriates me. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why should I keep my mouth shut? She is looking for a horse! She may have already found one. God help the horse she finds if they have any additional needs. She has animals you see, supposedly they are well taken care of, or perhaps they are simply less maintenance. That's probably the case. I'd bet my last tub of beet pulp that they are easy keepers in every sense. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Besides her specifically why in the world do we keep it hush hush when someone does something like this? Why do we not call them out? It's crap. If I neglected my boys like these people do I'd expected to be shamed right into the goldfish corner. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am not talking about the random person who finds them self unable to care for them. I am talking about the perfectly capable who do not.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why should they not be ashamed? Why should they be able to discard of them with no fear of consequence? Why am I afraid I will look like a bitch for stating the obvious? </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don't judge right? </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I work everyday at not judging. I am not perfect. I judge. I also think through the judgement to find my part in it and then try to let it go. I try my damnedest to understand, taken into consideration, etc... All that peace loving, live and let live, be kind, violence begets violence, pile on the cliche's, I really believe that shit. I also try to live by it.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes it is not judging, it is stating the obvious, like now. This woman whom bought Austen, in my opinion, has no excuse. She's an ass, an ignorant ass that has no business being in charge of anyone's well being. I don't care that this horse community is small and that someone I know might know her and somewhere along the way someone might get offended by my blaming her. I could give two shits (and I have a LOT of shits to choose from) if it offends her or anyone. We all should be offended. We should all be pissed off. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've spent pretty much every night this week in the barn sitting here, talking to him sometimes, just being there sometimes. We've walked about the yard. I've sat with him while he napped. Mostly we've just been getting reacquainted. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">His diet is pretty set for the next month, we'll evaluate again at 30 days unless he shows no improvement. Truthfully I will reevaluate when I get home next week, I probably just won't change it.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He's eating smaller meals about four times a day. It's easier on the system. I am very thankful that my nephew is here to help with the lunchtime feeding. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He's primarily getting a "mash", he is getting hay too of course. We are trying compressed alfalfa bales, it seems easier for him. He loved the chopped hay you can buy however that is 15.00 a 40lb bag. Hardly reasonable. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He'll come back to himself I am sure. He'll be a little different as a result of the experience, just as a person would be. It's going to take a bit of time, just as it would with a person. He has feelings and they have been hurt. That part of it is as big as the physicality of the situation. For that I'd like to do more than call this woman an ass. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">How dare she tell him, with her actions, that he was not worth proper care? How dare she plant that seed and not expect it to hurt him.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">How dare she. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-18092922647726689682013-08-22T21:53:00.002-07:002013-08-22T21:53:44.356-07:00The what and why<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A friend of mine posted something on facebook asking everyone who knew her if they knew why she did what she did. It's a question I ask myself frequently, not about her of course. About her the answer came simple cause it needs to be done and who better than her. For me answering that question takes five hundred blog posts!<br />
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Sitting here looking at Mac's adorable spotted ass while he eats I wonder again, why do I do it? I love looking at Mac; that's an easy answer, if only the question was why do I sit her and look at his little spotted butt.<br />
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Question is, why do I bring them in, get them all happy and healthy and send them about their way, this is not to imply I have ever haphazardly placed a horse. Hell it took me two years to find Katie's perfect partner. Anyway back to the subject at hand, why do it.<br />
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I've always felt the need to hide my many fears. We can talk about unrealistic expectations another time. In any case the horses, not only did they accept me scared shitless, they stood by me while I fell out of fear and into love. There aren't many animals on the planet, regardless of limb count, that would have done that. I will forever be grateful for that. That's the why, the core of the why. It also blows me away that they can be so broken at the hands of humans yet trust again. Brody for example. If I were him, I'd never trust another human being, yet he trusts. He let himself heal. He lets himself love. He lets himself trust. After all that he went through that is as close to miraculous to me as it gets. To be a part of that process is nothing short of phenomenal.<br />
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I also find it deplorable that there are so many that are so capable of hurting anything that they have the ability to hurt. I can't do much about it, I can help one at a time though.<br />
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The why is fairly easy I suppose. It needs to be done, and why not me.<br />
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It's also pretty heartbreaking.<br />
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You see more neglect then you can imagine if you even glance through the many places where animals for sale are advertised. Not to mention the stories that get passed about through the wonder of facebook. It's heartbreaking.<br />
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So many animals, of all species, being neglected at our hands. It makes me feel guilty, a little like survivor guilt.<br />
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It's also very expensive to decide to save a, what should be, thousand pound animal.<br />
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And then you have the letting go. The watching them come back into themselves and relationship or not, it's time to weigh their best interests. Sometimes that means letting go.<br />
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You get to know them pretty well, ok let's stop with the generalizations. I get to know them pretty well and it's usually pretty easy to determine if someone 'could' be happier. It takes a pretty laid back (lazy) horse to get granted permanent residence. It's just a fact and it's one I have to consider, lets take Mac for instance.<br />
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Mac is great. He's cute as all get out, has every Appy characteristic you could ask for, smart, funny, sweet, loves massages, cute little trot, responsive, safe, and smart (oops mentioned that twice).<br />
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I would love love love taking lessons with Mac. I would love love love resuming lessons with Mac.<br />
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Am I going to resume lessons? I am betting not anytime soon. Now if I could figure out how to board him and take lessons away from home I'd probably do it. Let me rephrase, if I made time for it. It's a quandary.<br />
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It's always a quandary.<br />
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It's both rewarding and heartbreaking.<br />
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Course if I'm gonna get heartbreak it may as well be mixed in with some spots now and again right?<br />
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It is the letting go, the awareness that you gain, it's the exposure to what can happen, it's the unbelievable amount of time and money, it's the constant worry, its the guilt you feel every time you see one in need. Those things are probably why most people think it's pure lunacy. Who in their right mind signs up for what could be a veritable heartbreaking money pit on four long ass legs?<br />
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It is the light that comes back into their eyes, it is the first nicker they give you, it is the shine coming back to their coat, it is seeing them run and play without a care in the world, it's sitting next to them while they nap, it's the first time you climb up there trusting them to trust you, it's watching them find that special person and shine under their hand, its knowing you did the right thing for the right reason, love. Having felt all that, how can you choose not to?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-3534147741069023952013-07-16T20:05:00.000-07:002013-07-16T20:05:50.811-07:00Flowers and cowboy boots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Recently - yesterday - there was an ad on CL for a mare, the ad included a threat to take her to the kill buyer. I don't think the threat was empty however that is neither here nor there. More recently the owner of this mare added text to her ad stating that she was tired of harassing phone calls, added that the more calls she got taking her to task the more she was inclined to take her to the kill buyer. For the record I didn't contact them and had I done that it would have been to offer a home and bite a hole through my tongue while I arranged moving her.<br />
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See you aren't supposed to pass judgement. You aren't supposed to take these type of people to task. You are supposed to be all flowers and cowboy hats to get the horse out of the situation she is in, if you do not you risk her life. That my friends is both a reality and the biggest pile of horseshit ever. They ought to be taken to task. Someone ought to be able to voice their opinion about their treatment of another being without the guilt of "say another word and off to the kill buyer/high kill shelter they go". You can't though, people like this person will in fact ship said being off to the kill buyer if pushed. After all, she/he/they "own" the horse and it's really none of your concern unless you want to pony up the money for her. If you don't they would thank you to shut your mouth. It is a double shame that this is the belief of many animal "owners". As "owners" they have every right to do whatever they want with the animal, you'd do best to shut the hell up.<br />
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I have three horses, two dogs, a cat and a recent addition of a mini. I do not "own" them anymore then I "own" my child. They were brought into my life and because they are unable to care for themselves it is my responsibility to care for them. I am their guardian, it is my job to make sure they have the best life possible, if I can not provide that it is also my responsibility to find someone who can. It's really very simple.<br />
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I saw someone post the other day that they were inches from taking their dog to the pound because they just couldn't deal with this dog anymore. I imagine the dog is a pain in the ass. I have a pain in the ass dog. There are days when little Jack makes me want to find a band of gypsies just so I can plop him on the trailer, buggy, or whatever modern day gypsies drive. That being said little Jack depends on me to care for him, pain in the ass or not. I promised him that when I took him into my home.<br />
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I am not saying one can not rehome an animal. I certainly have however those homes were carefully selected and I maintain enough contact to know that they are still happy, safe, and well taken care of. It is my responsibility to do so.<br />
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If you see a child, who is helpless, being neglected or mistreated you are encouraged to do all you can to help that child. You do not worry about the child's parents and their feelings. They are mistreating a child, a helpless and defenseless child. How dare you turn the other way and not do something.<br />
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If you see a dog chained to a tree day in and day out you are completely discouraged from reporting such a thing. That dog is "fine". See that water dish? See the food he's knocked over running in circles? Stupid dog...<br />
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Go tend to your own life, this dog is not "yours". Don't be a busy body, a "crazy" animal loving freak. Mind your own business and shut your mouth.<br />
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If you see a horse, ribs and spine showing, obviously lacking in energy, not getting what they need. Tread carefully because you might upset this horse owners sensibilities and we don't want that. See above, this animal is none of your business etc etc etc...<br />
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You can go right ahead and replace any species in the above with a simple twist of circumstance and it's the same old story.<br />
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And the asshats that place their animal on the wonder that is CL with threats of pounds, kill buyers and the like; tread even more carefully. You say one word and that life is on you. More of "your own business, my animal, etc etc..." followed by the very open threat of doing exactly what the ad says if "people like you" don't shut your mouth and let them do what they want with their animal.<br />
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I can not begin to express how very angry it makes me. This idea that you are not to defend the animal just because they are not "yours" is complete bullshit. They can't speak english. They can not look to their owner and say "ya know what this is not cool, I am hungry, my feet are overgrown, I am thirsty over here, please I don't want to have another baby, etc etc etc...". They can not decide their living conditions are crap and mosey on to the next caring home. If we don't speak up who the hell is?<br />
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It is our job to care for them, to make sure they have what they need. How hard is that? If you can't then don't bring them into your home. How hard is that?<br />
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I'm not perfect, my horses don't live in a fancy barn, my dogs don't go to a fancy groomer every six weeks, and my poor pure white cat is almost constantly covered in the dust from the barn. There are days when the work finds me wondering if they all should go live somewhere else. There are months when the unexpected costs pile up beyond my 5'4' frame and I sit and crunch numbers until 1am. They are all loved, they are all well taken care of, they are tended to as they deserve because it is my responsibility and if one day I am unable, I will do them the justice they deserve.<br />
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These people running about fighting dogs, starving horses, dumping dogs, abandoning cats, threatening to kill them if someone doesn't take them off their hands. Why must we hand them flowers while we discuss the possibility of saving a life they care nothing about? That's right, what they are doing is by in large legal...<br />
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It's fucking bullshit is what it is. One day this disregard is going to kick us in our collective asses. Any species that can look into the eyes of the defenseless and care not one bit is doomed to destruct at some point. I hope to god myself, my kids, my grandkids, and my animals have passed on naturally and never really see the implosion.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-51278214757744266102013-07-08T20:40:00.000-07:002013-07-08T20:40:01.990-07:00The boys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The boys and I haven't really been doing much. You know skipping the shows and hanging out at home (haha). But no really we've just been hanging out. Brody is doing well, he's got a touch of an upset tummy. I attribute it to hay I bought. Other than that he's actually come into himself quite well. Hard to fathom that two years ago he was the one I played food police for. Now if there is any food policing going on it is me protecting someone else from Brody stealing their food. Last night we did a bit of a dance outside Lou's door cause Brody was convinced that it was completely acceptable to walk in there and steal Lou's beet pulp. I have to admit it's a little funny to watch his face when I hop from one side to the next blocking him. Eventually he snorts and off he goes to bother Mac.<br />
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He's certainly come a long way. It's nice to see, can't say that I mind having to remind him from time to time that he may be the boss of the other boys but not of me (wow nice sentence!).<br />
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Lou is doing pretty good too. I really can't say much new about Mr. Lou; I think he is perfect. He's still perfect in my eyes. He likely always be my perfectly shining dinosaur. I think I could stare at him for days and not be bored. Think, my ass, I do :-)<br />
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Mac is the new guy in town. He's an Appy and has every possible Appy characteristic you can imagine. He's pretty funny too. He loves massages, will follow you about anywhere and refuses to be pushed around by the other two. We stand in the barn and do a nightly massage, I am not sure which one of us enjoys it more. I get to look at the sky and forget the world while he rocks back and forth under my hands and he gets a pretty decent massage out of the whole thing. I'd love to go to school and learn how to do it properly. For now Mac, Brody and Leo all get amatuer massages. Brody has always loved it. Apparently Mr Mac does too! Thank goodness for organic curry combs (fingernails).<br />
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It's kind of funny right now we are sitting in the barn, they have their hay, they just had some cheerios, Leo is guarding the door for me (in case of monsters), all I can hear is the smacking of lips and the occasional step to double check if maybe I'd like to give out another handful of cheerios. Brody is standing quite stoically at the stall door staring a hole through the back of my head. Lou is going back and forth, he thought about kicking his door but he's working on manners and has apparently changed his mind. Mac hasn't learned the manipulation tricks these two have quite yet so he has since left and will be back if I make the mistake of opening the treat door. Amazing, they can be in the arena and hear that door open and all of a sudden you have three giant noses standing at attention. Brody is perhaps the best at it. If he stares long enough the other boys leave and I end up looking at him and sneaking to the door to quietly give him something extra (like ummm just now).<br />
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Well I suppose that's enough of this, I gotta get them settled for the night and I haven't much of anything worth writing about tonight. Babbling is about all I have to offer.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-64656295517442376412013-06-26T22:04:00.001-07:002013-06-26T22:04:09.917-07:00Forgetting myself<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last few months have been especially challenging. Struggling with my ability to forget myself has been a constant battle, a lifelong theme if there ever was one for me. Finding a balance is often very hard for me as a result. I want to give, I want to help, I want to do those things while taking proper care of myself. Therein lies the struggle. There is a part of me that still holds on to the belief that I've never deserved to be properly cared for, that properly caring for myself equated selfishness, only in taking care of everyone and everything will I ever be worthy (and even then it's pretty conceited to believe it). It's so ingrained that I quite honestly talk myself out of believing it every single day and I am 44.<br />
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I've often wondered why the animals that fill most of my time don't fall victim to what eventually happens when turning myself inside out starts to hurt so much I shut down. Goodness knows the people in my life do; I have references. The animals, not so much. <br />
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I'd like to say I don't understand why, I think I might though.<br />
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If I were to look at Leo for example. Leo is on Benadryl twice a day, he has allergies to fleas and recently had a horrible bout with the same. Leo is on a grain free, filler free diet because it's best for him. Leo gets probiotics that I have to put in wet food or otherwise disguise cause he doesn't like them. Leo gets coconut oil to help him with the skin problem that has creeped up due to the earlier mentioned flea/allergy problem. Leo has separation anxiety and quite literally spends two minutes yelling (not barking) at me when I come home from work. Leo gets a treat everytime we go to the store because he expects it, I will go back and get one if I am silly enough to forget. Leo destroys our bed every night digging a circle in the sheets only to sprawl about as if the entire bed is his. Leo has ate shoes, destroyed couches, sheets, blankets, bruised me like there is no tomorrow, has given me a black eye, and cost me a small fortune. There has never been one second of resentment for all I do for Leo, not one single regret, and never a second thought when it came to his needs. Leo also kisses away my tears if he finds me crying. Tonight I was lugging hay to the barn and dropped an unusually heavy bale three times (sucked). By the time I was at the barn door, bent over the wheelbarrow, dripping in sweat and breathing harder than I care to admit, Leo snuck between my legs and licked my forehead. Why? I was sweating and it was dripping off me. He was doing all he could to help, he always does. We're partners, plain and simple. I don't forget myself in his "care". I do the opposite, I remember myself.<br />
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Strange? Maybe, or maybe more people should behave like dogs.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-65023477975162699152013-06-06T23:51:00.001-07:002013-06-06T23:51:48.457-07:00Sometimes I wish I wasn't a people<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ten years ago I'd have laughed if you told me that my horsey / dog budget was larger than my human budget. Ten years ago I'd have labeled anyone who "researched" their dog's food as "nuts". Ten years ago I'd have never known that people can, will, and more often than not, do awful things to animals. It quite honestly never crossed my mind. I was busy. I was building my career, I was single, I had a teenage son, I lived in Seattle, had a local bar I stopped in, had no idea what a feed store was, and I "owned" a cat. Ten years ago I wore make up, did my hair, would have been horrified at shoveling shit, much less examining it for it's "quality"!<div>
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Ten years ago I had no idea my heart could be broken and mended so frequently by beings that could not talk. Ten years ago it never crossed my mind to be ashamed of being "a people".<br /><div>
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A lot has changed.</div>
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Sitting in the barn tonight, I wonder how my heart will survive the next ten years with the animals that break and mend it so frequently.</div>
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Sometimes I wish I wasn't a "people".</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-9673815599427418922013-05-25T22:06:00.001-07:002013-05-25T22:06:44.711-07:00He let's me go fast <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you've ever read my blog you know that I am not a fan of going fast. I don't drive fast, I don't run fast, I don't ride fast. The only thing I really ever do quickly is talk and or type. I am mind boggling fast with a keyboard and I can talk a mile a minute when even a touch excited. Everything else I'd prefer to do slow, snail paced slow. I often wonder if it is because in my youth I did everything fast, break neck speed fast, it's hard to say.<div>
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Enter Lou. Lou is a lumbering 16.3hh hunk of a horse. I adopted Lou from Pony Up (shocking!). I can't even remember how Lou became a conversation between Rosemary and I. However he did and he eventually came home with me. I remember meeting him that first day, he was lazing about in the arena at "PU 1" which is funny in a full circle kinda way considering it's where we are today. In any case, he was perhaps one of the biggest horses I'd met to date. He towered over my horses, he gave Carter and the Kingston Boys a run for their money and was certainly more Rosemary or Kate's type than mine. I didn't like the "big ones". Climbing on something that was taller than me, at their ass, was lunacy in my opinion. Enter Lou. Lou is so big I can climb under him, hide behind him, and it takes me an hour to brush the big giant dinosaur of a horse that he is, getting up there; lunacy, plain old lunacy.</div>
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Enter Lou. Lou who would catch me if I fell, and has. Lou who lets me canter without a care in the world. Lou who makes me feel safe no matter what we are doing. Lou who leaves me with the glow of a smitten school girl every time we have the time to play. </div>
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Lou who finds me babbling stupidly in my blog about what a great guy he is forgetting that I can actually write a sentence that goes beyond, "isn't he the greatest guy ever?!".</div>
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I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell Rosemary how grateful I am to Pony Up for leading me to Lou. I've known a few horses over the years that I adore, known a few over the years that I wanted desperately to "fit" with. I've never known one that I made my entire being smile. That about sums it up; he makes my whole being smile. From head to toe, that big lumbering dinosaur sized horse, makes me smile and I feel it with every fiber of my being. </div>
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And...he let's me go fast ;-)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-64852843810536212492013-05-06T21:14:00.000-07:002013-05-06T21:20:05.024-07:00Rev's mom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm sitting in the barn, Abbey is climbing on my lap, Lou and Brody are munching on hay, Leo is faithfully guarding the door, Jack is in his yard and Rev is with his new mommy. I miss Rev no doubt there however every day there is a post by Tracy talking about how much fun they are having together and I can't for one second regret the decision. It brings tears to my eyes in the most satisfying way. He's not the first horse that has come into my life and somehow found the perfect partner. Someone mentioned to me not too long ago that perhaps that was my calling if you will, with the horses, to find them that perfect partner. See I don't show, I don't ride the boys every day, I am often discounted in the traditional horsey world as a result. As if my knowledge is lacking due to the lack of blue ribbons and barrels raced around. I have been around long enough now to realize that is complete bullshit. Some of my closest friends are guilty of the judgement, difference is that today, sitting here in the barn with my boys, I don't care. Katie came into my life and taught me so very much, she lives with her new mommy who is the best person for her. Amber came into my life and ended up finding the perfect family for her. Rev came to me and eventually found Tracy who is perfect for him. Do I have a knack for finding the perfect person, no. Do I have a problem loving them enough to let them go when I am not the perfect partner, no. Does that equate to my place in the horsey world, no.<br />
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Ok so it still pisses me off that some people in this "world" discount me, I think it's insulting. I likely will continue to think it is insulting, I suppose I just no longer let that discourage me. I look at Lou and I look at Brody and I know that they'd both agree, it's insulting bullshit. These boys don't belong anywhere but with me, never will. Did Rev belong "anywhere but with me", no. Did I love him enough to know that, yes. Does that make me less of a horse person than say the person riding a pattern every day, practicing dressage, jumping barrels every Friday night, or hitting the trails five times a week? No. Will another horse end up in my care only to find that perfect person, I sure the hell hope so. It's an honor to be a part of that. Is that my "place" in this "horsey world". Umm no.<br />
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Ok, slightly off course now. This post did not start out with the intention of being a rant.<br />
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I moved recently and a little known fact is that part of the attraction was being away from the judgmental bullshit. I have never admitted that piece because I value the friendships and was afraid of such an admission.<br />
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Watching Rev and Tracy taught me a lot, thanks to Rev for being yet another wonderful being to teach his guardian for a time, a lesson she needed! It did not matter to me what everyone thought. I knew that I was more comfortable riding with Lou. Gosh Lou and I are an entirely different post so I won't go there now. Suffice it to say that I knew the minute I touched Lou that it'd be hard on Rev. I entertained the thought of finding someone for Rev to play with (I refuse to call it work). I never found anyone (not that I looked hard) that I thought deserved HIM.<br />
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Tracy and I ran into each other at Pony Up on a Sunday when I was not scheduled to be there, I feed on Saturday but I had over slept and volunteered to do Sunday since I was such a lazy ass on Saturday! Tracy does Sunday and about half way through feeding she pulled up and wondered what the hell I was doing there! We had never met face to face, she was a volunteer, so was I but our paths had only crossed via Facebook post (welcome to the age of electronic communication)! We got to talking and she mentioned her boy Otto, he was in training, she couldn't ride him freely, etc. I stood there and kicked the dirt floor (I only kick the dirt when I know I am getting myself into something potentially painful) and talked a bit about Katie. My goodness that is still a sore subject for me. Then standing there I remembered Rev, sitting at home probably off to himself because Lou and Brody are... and I casually mentioned that she was welcome to ride Rev. Did I really think it'd become anything? Probably not. The dirt kicking was more about Katie then it was about Rev at that point.<br />
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Tracy came and met Rev twice that day, the second time Josh and I were riding with Lou and Brody in the arena. Eventually she saddled Rev up and as I cleaned the pasture (read spied on her and Rev) her and Rev tripped around the arena a bit.<br />
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I was pretty impressed, he was so obviously happy. I do know the horse quite well and I have seen him with a few people. He was relaxed under her hand and happily doing as she asked. He wasn't bored with her or frustrated with her. I can't say that I was instantly struck but I was impressed.<br />
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She took him for a trail ride not long after that while I sat at work and worried about everything from him throwing her and running wild to him and her having the time of their life and not loving me anymore. I don't think I stopped obsessing over said trail ride until I knew he was home safe.<br />
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She came over again and just sorta hung out, lunged a bit, braided every inch of hair she could, hand grazed him and just well generally fussed over him.<br />
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Watching her that night, through the windows to give her privacy and satisfy my need to watch, I started remembering Katie and Perris and all that happened "back then".<br />
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I remembered loving Katie beyond reason. I remembered P. I remembered feeling with P like Tracy felt with Rev. I remembered how tangled it became. I remembered how, still to this day, P breaks my heart.<br />
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Eventually I came out and Tracy was leaving for the evening. She said goodbye to Rev and climbed into her truck. Rev was in his stall, eating.<br />
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Rev walked out of his stall when he heard her truck. Rev watched her pull out of the driveway. Rev went back to his food after looking very sad and I said (much to my surprise) "Don't worry baby, mom will be back". I swear I didn't realize that "mom" was headed out of my mouth until it was there. I however could not deny that it had come out.<br />
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I sat in the barn for quite some time and talked to Rev, stared at Rev and tried to figure what to do.<br />
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I remembered P. I remembered how I had almost given up. I remembered how much it had hurt to know she'd never "belong" with me and I realized that once again that gorgeous blonde was teaching me how to love properly, and I sent the text to Tracy that started the conversations that changed Rev's life.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-35743218588281676312013-04-23T23:11:00.000-07:002013-04-23T23:11:22.216-07:00Top Ten Misconceptions Vs. Reality 101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
#1<br />
Misconception: I'm not "touchy feely".<br />
Reality: Pure bullshit. ask my dog, my horses, my cat, my kids or grandkids, even my mom.<br />
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#2<br />
Misconception: I'm "skinny", "small", etc... and physically limited<br />
Reality: I can buck 100lbs of hay, carry at least that in groceries, and weigh a good ten pounds more than anyone thinks<br />
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#3<br />
Misconception: I don't wear open toes shoes cause I have ugly feet<br />
Reality: I don't like my feet to be cold, or wet, or exposed to the open air. I like socks.<br />
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#4<br />
Misconception: I forget<br />
Reality: I choose not to remember<br />
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#5<br />
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Misconception: My writing is always a direct result of my personal experience<br />
Reality: I have an imagination, I use it<br />
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#6<br />
Misconception: I'm outgoing<br />
Reality: I am the definition of painfully shy.<br />
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#7<br />
Misconception: I spoiled my son<br />
Reality: That's pure bullshit, ask him about the year he spent with no bedroom door and a mattress on a floor; more importantly ask him why.<br />
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#8<br />
Misconception: I'm a prude.<br />
Reality: I'm private<br />
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#9<br />
Misconception: I'm confident<br />
Reality: I am aware of my abilities and respect them only when I am not doubting them!<br />
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#10<br />
Misconception: I'm cynical/bitter<br />
Reality: I believe in people even when I don't want to and often times it breaks my heart.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-38794131577656713612013-04-17T23:51:00.002-07:002013-04-17T23:54:27.229-07:00A coon's age & frogs in the yard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been quite awhile since I sat here and wrote. Longer still since I actually completed a post; I have more drafts in the last year than I have frogs in the yard. Oh yes, we moved. Perhaps later I will visit the move, not tonight. Suffice it to say everyone is happy with it, even the local frogs have decided we can stay. Can you imagine had they decided to boot the whole lot of us out? A frog led overthrow, scary.<br />
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And I illustrate why I have not written.<br />
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My son found me a few days ago in the barn writing on a notepad and mentioned that I only write when I am "bothered". I kinda smiled my "how I wish you knew me better" smile and reminded him that the only time I could write with any success is when I wasn't "bothered". He pretended to understand what I was saying and I let my mind drift off into some silliness that involved frogs or horse supplements.<br />
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A lot like I am doing now, which is why it's been a coon's age; I spent a few hours researching the meaning/origin of that one before deciding on the expression (god love google).<br />
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My second grandson (Aiden) entered the world yesterday. I was fortunate enough to be there. It's pretty awe-inspiring. You can't ever, or I can't, describe what it is like to be a part of a life coming into this world. I was there with Tonio, I was there with Ethan. I was there for a friend of mine a lifetime ago. It is the most amazing thing to witness. If the word honor belonged anywhere it'd be there.<br />
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It has been wonderful to watch Joshua through this, I am so happy for him. Seeing his face, watching him watch Aiden, pretty indescribable.<br />
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Last evening I came home to the house completely quiet, the baby had been born, the kids were at the hospital. It was only the dogs and me. Ok the dogs, the horses, the cat, and me. You get it, it was quiet.<br />
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I sat in the barn, where the best thinking happens, and thought about this little one that was gracing our family. I remembered my Uncle Tim who had just left. I remembered walking through the front room the evening that my Uncle left and saying flippantly to the kids that they had to change the baby's name now to include Timothy. I don't even know why it came out of my mouth, somewhere I knew I'd not make the service and goodness knows I wanted to honor him in some way... It was a flip remark born out of the grief that I knew was headed my way. Shortly after I made the announcement I felt the need to apologize, I certainly didn't want to dictate this little one's name. It stuck though because Mr. Aiden Donovan Timothy McCormick was welcomed into the world yesterday. I think I will always be grateful that they felt the need to honor him by including Timothy in Aiden's name.<br />
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Tonight as I drove home from the hospital I had a million things to share, at least four examples of growth over the last so many months. I was gonna write!<br />
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I got home and all that brilliance went the way of the wind and I ended up sitting here researching the origin of "coon's age". By researching I do, of course, mean getting lost on google.<br />
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It's hard to lay it out there, even here, when the truth is as heavy as it is lately. So I babble, artfully when I am lucky (or delusional in my assessment).<br />
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I miss my uncle. He was truly one of the very few genuine people I've been blessed with in my lifetime. I am still so very sorry I could not be there when everyone gathered to honor his life. I feel fragmented by it, or rather, I feel the fragments of my relationships more acutely than I am comfortable with. A lot of my family was able to gather and celebrate the love they shared for him and I was at home shoveling shit, literally. Note how miserable that sounds. Fact is I could not be there because I had to be here for Aiden and the shit I was shoveling belonged to beings that I love beyond reason; neither is miserable. Still I wanted to hug my grandmother and lay eyes on my cousin whom I hadn't seen in a "coon's age" and let her know I "got it". I'm not convinced that it would have made either feel better, it might have made me feel better. It's hard to say.<br />
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It was a tough one for me, still is. It's all a bit mixed up. You know that room that belongs to the teenager that finally got a lock on her door and with a fever made a mess no one could see through? That's about where my mind is; loving the mess but being blind to much beyond it, the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between blending about.<br />
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It doesn't make for good writing and it makes about as much sense as saying "a coon's age" and / or waxing poetic where frogs are concerned.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-39191515666817300682012-12-14T20:03:00.000-08:002012-12-14T20:21:07.599-08:00Losing your zen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have said, over and over, that the horses, the animals in general, have taught me to be a better person. They taught be a lot about peace. They teach me forgiveness everyday. They teach me a bit more about trust each day. They help me to be true to myself.<br />
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My guys are all rescues of sorts. I say of sorts cause there is no real word for "needed a home". Brody is truly a rescue situation. Brody would have died, and probably sooner then anyone really wants to think about, had he been left in the situation he was in. The others, well they just needed a safe landing for one reason or the next.<br />
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When you have "rescues" people often say things like "You've done such a great job" or "They are lucky to have you" or something along those lines. I suppose that is true; thing is I don't think many know that the truth is, I need them as badly as they need me. I am lucky to have them in my life.<br />
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Lately there have been many occasions when I have come dangerously close to forgetting that I choose peace. I don't choose resentment, I don't choose accusatory behavior, I do not choose vindictive, vengeful, or hurtful behavior. I often forget that I choose peace for me, I choose forgiveness for me; not for someone else's well being, for mine. I also tend to forget that all of that does not mean that I lack strength, neither does it mean I accept those behaviors from others in my life.<br />
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It's a string of lessons I've been learning and relearning for the last two years. By learning I mean actively learning, or paying attention to! It's tough to wrap your head around peace when all around us we see violence, revenge, aggression. It's hard not to lash out and strike the offending aggressor, regardless of what it is. It is hard not to be self righteous in your anger, self righteous anger is dangerous. Fighting that is hard when you're hurt, confused, or just generally pissed off.<br />
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I've been pissed off a lot lately, rather I have had to examine being pissed off, quite a bit lately. It doesn't matter at who/what really because this idea of living life with peace means (to me) that the why is more important than the who/what.<br />
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It's taken a lot of barn time for me to figure this one out, truth be told. I mentioned to a co-worker that being in the barn, staring at the ponies, kept me sane. It certainly does that, more importantly it helps me figure it all out so that I come through it with peace. I stand there, my fingers freezing cause my gloves are inevitably wet, feet cold and wet (if not muddy) cause my boots have a hole and I have yet to apply my fix to this problem (duct tape), and listen to them eat; let the sound of hay being crunched, water being sloshed, and the occasional swoosh of a tail, remind me again that peace is a choice. The only choice.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-28448139191839102532012-11-26T21:08:00.001-08:002012-11-26T21:08:14.615-08:00Brody, a whole lotta magic.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't talk much about Brody. Brody touches on a lot of things I tend to keep to myself. Brody embodies a lot of things that I tend to keep to myself.<br />
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The other night I was brushing Brody and he stopped eating. He doesn't always stop eating and wait for me to finish, sometimes he continues and I work around him. The other night, he stood there and just enjoyed it. A friend of mine remarked on space and the like, I agreed that Brody did in fact respect mine. I also knew that wasn't why he was standing there, oblivious to the hay (alfalfa no less). He was standing there because he was letting himself quietly enjoy the attention.<br />
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He's always liked the brushing, the contact, the reassurance that he is loved, the touch that says trust can be had. We don't get near enough time, in my opinion, but when we do he loves it as much as I do. I like the brushing, the contact, the reassurance that I am loved, the touch that says trust can be had.<br />
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It's different when they come to you as damaged as Brody was. I am constantly amazed that he can trust any human. That he feels safe enough to enjoy the feel of the brush or my hand still chokes me up. I often wonder if I have that level of forgiveness in me.<br />
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It's magical to witness someone coming back to life, it is also (and more importantly) an incredible honor. I said someone on purpose. I don't think "someone" applies strictly to humans. He's not a "something" which is likely the word I would have used ten years ago. Ten years ago I loved animals, ten years ago I also had no idea how much they gave, felt, or taught us, without even trying.<br />
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I can't remember when, or who, tapped into that part of me that needed them as much as I believed they needed me. It probably started with Patch. That's probably why Brody is so tough a subject for me. He reminds me so much of Patch, he and I met the day after Patch died, he was so sad, I was so sad. I wasn't sure if Brody and I had any business together but I couldn't walk away.<br />
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When I met Patch it was much the same. A friend had talked me into going to see this pony; he was lame, he was likely going to head to the game farm as a result. I remember agreeing that sure we'd take the pony home and no no the gentleman had no worries because after all it wasn't really me, it was me and Kate; she knew all we needed to know. I figured this pony was a Kate project disguised as a pony for my grandson. For goodness sakes I didn't even like Appy's and Patch was an Appy in every way. I didn't know a damn thing about rehabilitating anything much less a horse. I stood there when Jeff asked if I could take him on and shook, thank goodness not visibly, and told him that it wasn't a problem cause Kate would do the lion's share of the work.<br />
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Then I got to know Patch. He is still one of the most special 'someones' I've ever had the pleasure of loving.<br />
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It was a lot like that with Brody. It's a lot like that with Brody every day.<br />
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It's different when they come to you like that. It changes you, if you let it. It changes them, if you're lucky. It makes you grateful for every single day, if you pay attention. If there isn't a whole lotta magic there...it's not likely to be found anywhere else.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-71720388156404598982012-10-29T21:14:00.001-07:002012-10-29T21:14:56.225-07:009943 days, a few hours, and not so many minutes away from 9944<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was driving along today, on my way home, thinking about my son. Thinking about Lou and the Horsey Halloween Party we went to. Thinking about how much joy they bring me. Wondering why the joy they bring me somehow came back to Joshua. It's some very odd and misguided sense of guilt that keeps me a little on edge about admitting how happy I am around them.<br />
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He once told me, not too terribly long ago, in a rather put out manner, that if I didn't have "the horses" maybe I "could" afford to help him more. By not too long ago, I do mean within the last year. He was 27 in August of this year. He is also currently residing in another state. Yet, he really does believe that my life ought to center around him, still. Not just participate in, center around. Nine thousand, nine hundred, and forty three days later; center around him.<br />
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It doesn't. I feel guilty, how dare I not focus on whatever dilemma has befallen him. How dare I enjoy the life I have built. How dare I have joy when he is in obvious, unavoidable pain. Make no mistake those are statements, not questions.<br />
<br />
Tonight I realized I could bask in the joy that comes with thinking about Mr. Lou and I at Diamond Hill this weekend. I could, if I let myself. And so nine thousand, nine hundred, and forty three days later I'm gonna let myself be a participant in Joshua's life, an important one, still a participant, and bring you part of the joy that is Lou...<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-48681962069529202262012-10-17T21:27:00.001-07:002012-10-17T21:27:33.609-07:00Big Lou<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Big Lou, you have to say it with your head tilted down toward your chin and with a deeper voice than is likely to come out of you, whomever you may be! I didn't notice that I actually did the tilting of the head when I addressed him as "Big Lou" until tonight when I was thinking about writing a bit about him.<br />
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He's not always Big Lou, sometimes he is Mr. Lou, sometimes he is Hey Gorgeous, and sometimes he is Seriously Lou?. Nearly always, he is perfect. He's got personality from here until next Tuesday, which really means he is prone to causing trouble. In the same respect, he is as mellow as sipping a Vanilla Latte in a springtime pasture on a Sunday afternoon.<br />
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Under saddle he does exactly what you ask, even when presented with someone who doesn't always ask perfectly. I know he'd do his level best to catch me if I fell, which I have. Some call it an emergency dismount, I call it being used to falling :-).<br />
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I've rarely felt as safe as I do when I am atop Lou. Still, I'm never bored. It's not a comfortable, old shoe kind of safe. It's a 'let's do this, I believe in you" kind of safe.<br />
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I got lucky with Lou. He just flat out makes me smile, tilt my head down, and lower my voice to that of a fifty year old cowboy and ask "Ok Big Lou, ya wanna go for a ride". I don't even care how silly it must look and so far as I can tell, neither does he!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-67228353284898334122012-10-13T23:08:00.001-07:002012-10-13T23:08:19.977-07:00Raw and unfiltered<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Nice title don't you think? </span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not near as exciting as it sounds. One day not so long ago I came home to find that one of the boys had hurt himself. He had a nasty gash on his shoulder. That first day it looked like he got kicked and the skin had been pulled back. Nasty, yes. Treatable, absolutely. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />The next day he had rolled and seemingly torn off the piece of skin that led me to believe that it was a kick that had simply torn back the skin in the process. When I cleaned him up that night I saw that it was more along the lines of a puncture wound and once the skin that was trying to cover it had left, well it was roughly the size of a half dollar. It was swollen. There was heat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I cleaned it out, put medicine on it (<span style="background-color: white;">Nu-Stock</span><span style="background-color: white;"> which is great stuff), and tried to wrap it. He ended up with a huge ass home-made band-aid secured with duct tape. You can not wrap an almost to the shoulder, but not quite, wound with much success, at least I couldn't. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">The bandages didn't work very well. Inevitably they'd come off during the day. I have decided they came off when he rolled. Off comes the bandage, in comes the dirt. The dirt meets the medicine which covers the wound and all the days work is lost. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">This went on for about four days before I remembered the honey. A friend of mine had used it with a lot of success. Lou's wound was one day away from the vet. I could not keep it clean and or dry. The medicine I was using, as great as it is, was useless when it was mixed with dirt. I pressed my nose to the cut and smelled, it wasn't good. Yes I smelled it. It was what made me remember the honey. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">I knew we were bordering on something that could go south. I went to Pike Place Market a day after that and spoke to every honey vendor there. I finally stumbled on a woman whom did not look at me as if I were crazy when I explained that the taste did not matter because the intent was to slather my horse's shoulder with it as a salve. Her son had actually used honey to heal a wound he had across the bridge of his nose, she understood; her son did not scar by the way. She had a variety of honeys however recommended a Wild Thistle honey due to it's thickness. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">Honestly, I was desperate; Lou's wound had me scared. An infection could lead to really bad things. I didn't really think the honey idea would work, it seemed too simple to me. I'd probably have never tried it had I not been contemplating a 60.00 farm call and god knows how much to follow. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">I bought a 3oz jar for 5.50. It is worth noting that I still have some left.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">I put the honey on him Sunday night after washing out his wound. Monday morning it looked as if the honey had acted as a drawing agent, pulling out the yuck that was still in there. His leg was wet in streaks. It wasn't like the honey just dripped down, it was as if the honey pulled out bad stuff (not puss or anything gross like that) and released it underneath this seal around the actual wound. The wound itself was still covered, the heat had left, and the swelling had gone down. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>The wound was washed and the honey reapplied each day for two days.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I did not touch the wound Tuesday or Wednesday. I checked on it but I did not wash it out and reapply the honey until Thursday.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />It was dirty however the honey had created a barrier of sorts for the actual wound. The outside of the area was dirty, the wound was clean and protected.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />My friend and I looked at his wound last night. </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was, or better yet is, n</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">ot the least bit swollen, has </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">not even the touch of heat, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">is barely the size of half a dime, with </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">virtually no hair loss</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I smelled him tonight, just for good measure. I stuck my face right there on his big giant shoulder and breathed in deep and what I smelled was beautiful, healthy, raw, and unfiltered!</span></span></h4>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-42309126096999364862012-09-19T22:06:00.004-07:002012-09-19T22:06:42.527-07:00Removing should from your vocabulary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The other day, yesterday actually, I explained my theory on the word should to a good friend of mine. She was stating that she should not feel this or that about a situation; the circumstances don't really matter in this case. I listened for a bit then remembered my mom telling me not too many months ago (perhaps a year) that should implied blame and perhaps replacing that word with a kinder word, could for example, might just change my outlook on whatever situation I thought I was, or had, handled incorrectly. I shared it with my friend last night and was reminded of it again today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I.E. I should have (insert action) vs. I could have (insert action). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Should leaves very little room for growth; with should you are concentrating on what went south as opposed to how come it went south and exploring the options that may have resulted in a better outcome.<br />It's also incredibly hard to stop saying should.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Today a very dear friend, arguably my closest friend, had to make a decision that, right or wrong, breaks a person's heart. I wondered a million times throughout the day if she was alright and prayed she wasn't "shoulding" herself to death. It's strangely easy to do. I suppose it makes sense, if you accept blame you can hang on to the belief that you can, or could have, fix(ed) whatever the problem may have been if only you were better - in whatever way you've decided you are lacking! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Could - for example - leaves it (whatever it may be) open for exploration, for thinking, for learning, for possibility; none of which you can obtain if you are busying yourself with blame.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Today I came home and Rev didn't feel good. I panicked of course, the very thought of any of them being hurt or sick or uncomfortable finds my heart beating like crazy and my mind racing. That being said when push comes to shove I can handle an emergency; once I know something is wrong, once I know I can't afford to freak out and cry, I don't. Of course the initial panic sucks :-) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />In any case he was not feeling good, he is ok. He doesn't feel great but he is in no danger. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It's been crazy dry here and as a result I have a ton of sand, not dirt, sand. They eat lunch outside (everything else is in their stalls) and I was becoming worried that sand colic could be a problem. Last Saturday I put them all on sand clear (or a version thereof). Rev is mighty sensitive and will benefit from ProBios I think however that is more of a side note. I do believe the poor baby has a tummy ache. His temperature is normal, he has pooped, he did me the courtesy of multiple farts (one of which occurred while taking his temperature, effectively in my hand), he has plenty of gut sounds, he is eating. He is also uncomfortable, but not critical by any stretch. Much to his dismay, he is also being monitored and the vet will be called at any repeated signs of upset.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I did not, through this, say to myself "you should have..." "it's your fault cause of the sand..." etc... etc...<br />I thought, from now we will all be on <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">Psyllium because there is sand and it's not worth the risk.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">I thought, you are learning from this so that you can prevent any upset in the future.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Yes, I "could" have started them on a Psyllium </span><span style="line-height: 17px;">regiment long ago and possibly prevented any upset for Rev. I "could" have kept him on ProBios just because it "seemed" to have positive (read no ill) effects. Both of those "could" have prevented his tummy ache this evening, it also might not have. That does not make the Psyllium regiment or ProBios anything less than a good idea. Using "could" however not only took the blame away from something I (in reality) have little control over, it also opened up the thought process enough to let learning happen.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">I suppose one can't complain too loudly about that.</span></span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-22003159169952457442012-09-02T21:37:00.003-07:002012-09-02T21:37:43.314-07:00It's like a win-win-win.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Simply put, they are my babies. I'd lay across rail road tracks for each one of them. I'd not even so much as hesitate.<br />
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Recently I secured a position that will let me take care of my babies with one less worry. It's been a worrisome couple years; not that they knew, pretty sure I am the only one that ended up with an ulcer.<br />
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It's been a nice few hours, letting it all sink in. A bit of freedom, an air of relief, and if I were inclined to be honest, I'd say I was rather proud of myself.<br />
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Securing the position isn't really all that impressive; not securing the position, based on my qualifications, would have been devastating. Ok, so maybe not devastating but a blow to the old ego. I digress, my apologies.<br />
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What is impressive however, is that this crazy last twenty some odd months has changed me in ways what will actually let me do the job I have loved, since the first problem was presented to me, without motive for more. I honestly just want to do a good job, earn a decent income as a result, learn and grow as much as I can while doing it, and take care of my family.<br />
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The family I take care of these days consists of three wonderful horses, two spectacular dogs, a few chickens (who tend to scare me), and a beautiful cat. Taking care of them is paramount to me, there is simply no other word. Over the last twenty some odd months I've struggled with decisions surrounding their care, surrounding what was best for them, for us as a family, for me as a person, and let me tell you, there were a lot of scary 'oh my god' moments through those decisions. There was work and there was more work. There were adjustments and sacrifices. There have been balancing acts and sighs of relief. Bottom line always came down to what was best for them and I found, like most mothers, I'd do anything to make sure that happened. I always knew it, in my defense, it had just been a long time since I had to work so hard and so many angles to do it. And my goodness the lessons in humility and strength alike were, let's just say, frequent.<br />
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None of these worries will go away and I pray that the lessons still come as frequently, goodness knows I've got an awful lot left to learn. They probably won't even lessen much. I'll still worry about hay quality, dentist appointments that need to be made, shoes that need to be had, diet issues, blankets, stall floors, riding frequency, and every other possible problem you can imagine. I will, with any luck, wake each day with a lesson to be had. With even more luck, I'll recognize the possibility enough to accept the lesson! I will however do it all with a little financial relief and bonus, it is doing something I love to do. It's like the best win-win I've had in the last few years.<br />
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When you take into consideration, that I'll not lose me in doing a great job, it's like a win-win-win.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-53470175780558523702012-08-23T17:07:00.001-07:002012-08-23T17:07:23.807-07:00Somewhere between acceptance and gratitude or, varying degrees of doubt.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today I am pissed at my email, in a shitty mood because it has not produced the email I am waiting for, and a little disappointed in my ability to "keep the faith" and/or feel grateful. <div>
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For a solid six days I have been religiously repeating:</div>
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1. The strength it took to look honestly at that time period was hard earned; hold onto that and stay proud of that.</div>
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2. If nothing, save a lesson, comes of this, the lesson is valuable enough.</div>
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3. The outcome will not define you, does not define you; the outcome is not a reflection of you as a person, it is simply the decision of someone other than yourself. </div>
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4. Let it go, see number 3 and let it go.</div>
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It's been a long six days. I believe, with all my heart, that all three of those are completely true statements. I really do wish I could stop repeating them. With every day that passes without an answer the voice of reason has to battle the voice of insecurity. She's got a pretty strong voice, resilient shit that she is. She battles everything above with her own version of the truth and lord is she negative!</div>
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I worked today and all went well. Sue and I worked together, we do well together. The ponies were all a dream save Kobe whom has taken to trying to eat the lead rope and Wynston whom thinks smelling the top of my head and dripping a little horsey goo in my hair is great fun. It was a good day, all in all. </div>
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I drove in the drive and Mr. Leo was right there to greet me. Jack right behind him, wagging his little tail so fast he looks like half a helicopter! The boys were all accounted for and looked good too. I didn't get attacked by the crazy rooster. Weather was nice and I planned on riding Brody for a bit this evening.</div>
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Why then am I talking myself out of a negative mind set?</div>
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It's simple, I am letting this other person's decision rule my days, my nights, and even my dreams. I remarked earlier today that if I could simply remember all I dreamt when my mind was working overtime I'd give Stephen King a run for his money! My imagination is great fun play in, it's not great fun to get lost in! I believe "torture chamber" is what I used to describe it today. Every person whom has made an impression on me has appeared lately; my high school boyfriend popped over to let me know that the cliff I was jumping over was probably gonna suck, my mom and I were on a train that went to what felt like a desolate version of our world after deciding that we'd end up dying alone and together (literally), my brother popped in disguised as my father to remind me that although I thought pretty highly of my intellect...I wake feeling confused and as if I had just run a marathon. </div>
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Why?</div>
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Because I am letting someone else's decision rule my days. I am forgetting all that brought me here. I am forgetting that the answer I am afraid of won't kill me; it may not please me however that's all it will do. I've been displeased before, it's never resulted in the end of the world :-)</div>
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Right? </div>
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I'm gonna make sure to ask Brody, he's usually spot on when I am stuck between varying degrees of doubt.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-78362669713567971262012-08-19T23:36:00.001-07:002012-08-19T23:36:32.429-07:00And they call me Queen of the Walk <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's no secret that I don't like to go fast. Facts are facts; part of me is a big chicken. I say things like... I need to work on my posting, I haven't really done much lately, I'm sure I have forgotten the right way, I look like an idiot, I should take lessons again, then maybe we'll talk about cantering and all this "you have to go fast business".<br />
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Truth is the key is feeling, not to mention a lot of trusting that enough to let go of the perfectionist, intellectual freak that says thing like "you look silly cause you aren't perfect". I look pretty hot at the walk. I love trotting about with Rev and Lou, so long as very few are around to see me go beyond the walk. Did I mention, I look great at the walk. It's the letting go that tends to keep me at the walk, the trusting myself part, that keeps me at the walk.<br />
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Rev and Lou have been a new experience for me, both of them have found me wanting to ride, for different reasons all together, however with both of them I get this "oh boy we're gonna ride" feeling that I haven't had in a long time. It's fun again with them; it's a bonus that it's fun for different reasons with each of them.<br />
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We rode yesterday; Rev and I in the arena, then around the "trail" three times. We went a couple different ways up to the top of the pasture, jogging up the hill this way and that. We played at the top of the pasture where I let him go just a touch faster than we've gone before then heading back down. He never goes faster than I am ready for and always seems very aware of what that means. It's quite amazing considering my speedometer changes each time we ride! He was great. Tomorrow we're gonna venture off the property, head up the street (or down I haven't decided). I have such a great time with him, we were plowing through the bushes (let's pretend they were thick, huge, climbing everywhere with vines, kind of bushes), climbing hills (slopes), laughing and talking the whole time. There was a lot of "oh you're such a good boy, let's hop over the log, oh look at you go, etc..." We had a blast.<br />
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Lou and I stayed in the arena. I suspect that if Lou could he'd pick me up before I even thought to fall, it's incredibly hard to feel anything but taken care of when riding with Lou. I never understood the desire for a horse so huge that you couldn't see me if I was standing behind him, smack dab in the middle of his barrel (yes, yes, you'd see my feet). God knows I'd be able to hide from the CIA if I decided to stand behind his rump! He's 16.3 and build like a tank. Riding with him is just fun for me. We actually cantered. I've never cantered. I don't, as a general rule, canter. Lou and I cantered, it was great fun. It was incredible fun really. I keep walking by him and saying "How's my little superstar?" :-)<br />
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Who knew, Queen of the Walk, would one day meet, love, and be lucky enough to know not one, but two, boys that let her go faster and faster each day :-)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-47236081235315572062012-08-17T14:58:00.000-07:002012-08-17T14:58:05.536-07:00It's green cause we all agree that it's green.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My mom believes that we have collectively created our (general) reality. Trees for example, are green because we all agree they are green and therefore it becomes reality for us all. It's perception. It's choice. It's even a bit of compromise.<br />
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Reality is a funny thing, it can be different for us all. The reality of my childhood is not the same as my brother's reality and we grew up together. </div>
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If it's really choice then we can choose a better reality even in the face of what is normally perceived to be a negative reality. It's all about perception. You really can change your life by changing your way of thinking. That being said, it's hard shit to actually do. </div>
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When I started this blog, I thought I was pretty hot shit. I was very impressed with myself and certainly not afraid to wield what I believed to be my superiority. I <i>was</i> important don't ya know. I seriously shake my head at that thought today, mostly because my definition of important was so very different back then. I still think I am pretty hot shit, I am still pretty impressed with myself, and I certainly don't doubt my importance or the benefits I bring to those around me. The definition of all that today was allowed to grow somewhere in the experiences over the last two years especially (it's been less however that is a nice round number), it does not lie in the title that resides under my name which is where it was when I started this blog. <br />
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It's actually been really difficult, these last couple of years. I try to write on the lessons and the insights, my goodness have there been a plethora (love that word), and not the difficulty level. It has however been difficult, I can't recall a time period where "journey" fit any better.<br />
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I started out confused, angry, and arrogant. Today I am more aware, grateful, humbled in a way that does not equate beating myself up, and proud of who I see in the mirror everyday. I had to look at why I was confused, angry, and arrogant a couple years back; I didn't much care for the view. I have always been smart enough to know you can not change what you can not control. I have not always been smart enough to know that very little is actually in my control, unless you count choice. I didn't.<br />
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It's perception. It is a choice to live each day positively and not negatively. It's a choice not to judge. It's a choice to examine and decide finding the positive is the only sane thing to do. It's a choice to stand by yourself; not alone but to stand "by" yourself in the very manner you'd stand by your friend. It's also a hard choice. It's also an active choice. It's a literal exercise everyday and along the way you will likely discover things that you never would have admitted, even alone with only the company of your horse.<br />
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You have to think, where is my lesson? How did I play into this? How can I make this a lesson and not a punishment? That's a big one right there. Admitting my hand in yuckiness used to mean on some level I failed, I suck, oh my god the world is going to finally know I am a sham. Admitting my hand in whatever the yuckiness is today means, ok so why did you ...? Sometimes that answer is simply "cause Carol you are human", sometimes that has to be enough. Once there I usually get a hint of the lesson. In each lesson is a piece of the new reality I have chosen.<br />
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That's all fantastic, I'm crazy pleased by all of it. Pretty amazed I made it through to this point truth be told. However, holy moly what a pain in the ass it is to look for the positive in a world turned upside down. What a bitch it is to realize you had a direct hand in turning part of that world upside down. How amazingly hard it is to forgive yourself for the same. How incredibly tiring it is to let yourself feel it all the way through without using it as some crazy weapon :-) How sad and uplifting it has been to look at it and let it go.<br />
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Today was the first time I had to really put this whole practice of looking at life differently, seeing the beauty, being at peace with me (good, bad, or indifferent), actively looking for a positive regardless of outcome, today was the first day I really really put it to work. Today I had to take all of what I have been allowed to learn over the last two years and apply it. It was intense. It still has me a bit shaken up, it's easy to think it all, it's easy to apply it all when you are applying it to a life filled with ponies and puppies; it's easy to make sense of it all when you've surrounded yourself with the best love there is. It's hard to do all that when you are walking into strangely familiar territory as a completely different person.<br />
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We made it through though, she says because I made it through sounds entirely too real and as mentioned, I can change my reality. Right now that reality needs "we" more then it need "I" so we're going with "we"!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-67170199598375400072012-08-15T00:14:00.000-07:002012-08-15T00:14:38.220-07:00Oh Patch, how I wish we could have some chips and just chat.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Patch loved chips, he'd also stand right next to you and wait patiently for his next chip. For that matter he'd stand next to you and wait for any treat you might possibly have. That being said, he'd stand right next to you, treat or not, and listen to you ramble for as long as you needed.<br />
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I will now stop with the although, thereby, and that being said, and for that matter, crap.<br />
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You could talk to Patch, you could hang out with Patch. I spent many hours telling Patch things that Patch likely cared nothing about. We discussed everything from the price of bedding to the horrors that came from trying to re-figure life out at forty something.<br />
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It'd be nice to chat with him tonight, he's been heavy on my mind. Mostly because there is so much I'd like to tell him. The Princess found a new home. That would have been good news to Patch. Texas went home and Amber was sold. I met Brody, who has always reminded me of you (in spirit), the day after you died. The farm has changed, I have changed. There have been horses, and there is a special one for me again in Rev, but none of them are you. None of them stand in my door and wait, for however long, for the treat they know they will get.<br />
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I think of you every day, most days more than once. I don't tear up all the time anymore, mostly I smile and sorta cock my head like Leo when you cross my mind. I wonder, what people think when they see it? I'd bet my last bale of hay that they have no idea that a beautiful soul just ran across my memory flashing the cutest spotted ass the world has ever seen!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7773425374340336842.post-4879449751408286432012-08-11T09:46:00.000-07:002012-08-11T09:46:13.795-07:00Just a horse, dog, cat, chicken, mouse, spider, or slug<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I got to hang out with Bill today. Bill is one of my very favorite people. Bill is my dear friend's little boy; Bill is two. Bill calls me Auntie Cars not because he can't say Carol and not because his mommy is my "real" sister. I'm Auntie cause that's what'd I'd be if the world made the connections I saw fit (helps that his mommy agrees) and Cars because, well because, I have cars. I don't have real live, grown ups can drive, cars laying about the yard. I do however have the cars that Bill likes. There are areas of the house that look a little like a Match Box wrecking yard, Bill loves it. As a result of these two things I am Auntie Cars. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is such beauty in a person whom has not been commercialized. I can watch Bill for hours and never get bored with his discoveries. What is especially lovely about Bill is that he still believes "good" should simply be a fact of life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today Perris was getting her feet done so while that was going on Bill and I hung out. We found a slug crawling on the grass. We were actually headed to his store, a little play house, where he sells water (not really). We got distracted picking flowers for mommy when we (Bill) decided he needed the cart for the flowers. We had two dandelions, not a heavy load! The cart he wanted was in the longer grass so off we went. I saw the slug, it was flippin' huge and black. I have, honest to goodness, never seen a black slug. I googled it, they are kinda gross.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In any case I see this slug and point it out to Bill. We both knelt there, our collective butts resting on our feet, and discussed the slug. Bill said "What's that". I said "A slug, can you say slug". Bill says "Auntie bug". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was close enough for us to go from there to Bill's version of what it was doing and Auntie Cars explaining that it was climbing and that we didn't want to touch or hurt it. Bill agreed and we sat there watching the slug, repeating the same questions:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">1. What's that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">2. Where go?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I would say we spent five minutes on the slug. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It never occurred to me to kill the slug, it really never occurred to Bill to so much as disturb the slug. That belief that there is no reason to hurt another being just because you don't understand it is lost on "us" anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you really think about it, fear is almost always the basis of anger. Not being able to understand something scares "us", I think it is safe to say it scares the shit out of "us". "We" think we are pretty damned smart. Perhaps relate, or even <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 15px;">empathize</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 15px;">,</b> is a better word then understand in this case, hard to say. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We didn't kill the slug, or touch the slug, we studied the slug and then left the slug to do whatever it was the slug was headed to do. </span></div>
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Sure it was just a slug, it could have been up to no good in the world of slugs, it could have been headed home to his family of slugs; we'll never know cause we left him alone. </div>
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It is just simple respect I suppose. Leo isn't just a dog, sure he's a dog but "just a dog" makes him sound less than deserving of humane treatment and simple respect. Just a dog leads one to believe that hurting him wouldn't matter as much as hurting a person. </div>
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I was going to go through the list of animals in the title however I do believe my point is made already. </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16298839311973824789noreply@blogger.com0