Celebrating Annie

This is the story of the life of Annie.

It’s also the story of what happens when a chain of people care, and make the effort to do the right thing.

It started with Kimberly, who noticed a dirty, scrawny, sick looking cat.  Kimberly worked for a year to gain the cat’s trust, which was remarkably difficult. She put food out for her daily, and kept trying. Kimberly and her husband Steve were finally able to catch the cat and take her to the vet.

The vet examined her and did tests:

The cat was:

• about 15 years old
• deaf
• had thyroid cancer
• had infected teeth

Kimberly and Steve opted to have her treated, with the goal of finding a forever home. (Kimberly is allergic to cats, and they have large boisterous dogs.  Not a good option for an elderly, deaf, recovering cat.)

The sick kitty was at the vet for a very long time. Kimberly and Steve paid for all of her treatment, which had to have been a massive vet bill.

Daisy received a mass email asking if someone could take a 15-year-old cat for the remaining weeks of her life. Daisy replied, and asked what the situation was.  (Read: the cat had a permanent home as soon as Daisy hit the ‘send’ button.)

Daisy named her after ‘Little Orphan Annie’.  The vet speculated that Annie had been cared for earlier in life, and was  dumped when she began having health issues.  Annie weighed 7 pounds when she left the vet’s office, was extremely shy, and almost instantly bonded to Daisy.

The cat who had weeks to live thrived under Daisy’s care. Instead of the steady decline the vet sketched out (as the likely scenario), her coat bloomed, she gained weight, and gradually began looking younger and younger.

Annie couldn’t stand for Daisy to be out of her sight, and followed her from room to room, no matter how exhausted she was. She slept on the bed, and would reach out a paw in the middle of the night to touch Daisy’s face: are you still there?

Daisy must have felt like a miracle to Annie: a person who loved her again.

Annie passed away a few weeks ago. She’d lived more than a year longer than predicted. She died plump, happy, loved, and bonded, instead of abandoned, uncared for, fearful, and uncertain.

Kimberly and Steve gave her the gift of a chance. Daisy gave her the gift of time, love, and healing. (On many levels.)

For Annie:

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Waving the Magic Wand

With thanks to Kate for a great post (go read!) at A Year With Horses.

How I came to hate Linda Tellington-Jones for no good reason:

I signed up to volunteer for a NARA certified physical therapist in a Hippo Therapy program.  She needed a catch rider to exercise her horses, so they were happy and quiet before she began working with clients.

I introduced myself to the barn manager, and waited for the therapist.  I didn’t see any hippo-therapy horses.  A rider was doing some nice reining work. A quiet, gigantic gelding with bad hooves was improperly tied to a rail, and people were trying to load a big, young, anxious mare into a small trailer.  The mare was genuinely frightened. This wasn’t “I don’t want to”, it was: “please don’t kill me.”

I scan the area for the NARA people. Don’t want to watch this.

The woman trying to load was waving a white whip in the mare’s face. When the mare jerked back or sideways, she accidentally hit her face on the whip. The woman yelled “sorry!” every time the mare got hit. What the heck is THAT about? Why wave it at her and hope it won’t hit her?

Whatever the white thing was meant to do, it wasn’t working. Call me crazy, but wave a whip in front of me and say go forward, and I will fight you tooth and nail.

The mare is soaked and steaming. Her sides are heaving.

The barn manager walks up, begins to speak, then guiltily clamps her lips shut.

“It’s okay”, I said. “I’m with you.”

She shakes her head, working not to speak.

“How long?” I ask, tilting my head toward the trailer.

She looks at her watch. “Three hours”, she says, teeth clenched. She crosses her arms.  No question. She’s been ready to pounce.

THREE HOURS?

The mare rears, pulling back.  The man wallops her butt with a whip, heedless that the woman might be directly in front of the horse. She wasn’t, thank god.

“Can I?”, I ask the barn manager.

She shakes her head. “You need a release.”

I dig in my pocket, and hand her my pre-signed release form. Her eyebrows lift into her hairline. She looks at the therapists name on the form, then looks at me. Determines something.

“That’s her” she said, nodding her head at the woman with the white whip.

As the Hot Walker Turns: Episode 1

These are the days of our lives…

Hudson Retires

The chiropractor looked at Bella after adjusting Hudson’s shoulder again.  ”Go ahead and finish out the season, we can keep him going that long.”  Red Flag.  We can keep him going that long is not how Bella works.

“If I quit roping now, will I be able to rehab him back into soundness?”

“Yeah” says the chiro, “but he’s 21, what are you going to do with him?  Might as well get one last season out of him.”

The chiropractor just guaranteed Hudson would never rope again.  Bella won’t work a horse into the ground, and she’s well aware that older horses need more care, not less.

What now?  Bella wants to stay sharp, keep her roping skills progressing, and compete. Hudson could be re-habbed into complete soundness, sold, and the money put toward a new roping horse. Should be win-win.  People lined up years ago: there’s a waiting list for Hudson when he retires. She knows everyone, he’d get a good home, and be able to keep close tabs on him.

She thinks some more.  It’s not going to work.

He’s a GOOD roping horse.

Why Horses: When Horses Love The Work

It’s Why Horses? Wednesday.

When the horse loves his job, it’s magic.

I took this shot of the steer in the chute without registering the expression on the horse’s face.  Could it be any clearer?

That horse wants that cow.  The horse isn’t in the box, or in the hole.  He’s standing in line.  The horse absolutely knows not to move.  The reins are dropped on his neck, his rider is adjusting the rope  In fact, when the chute clangs open, the only thing the horse moves are his ears.  This is a horse that loves his job.  Steer looks pretty happy about the whole thing too.  Gotta say, it was clear to me that some of those steers were looking forward to trying to outwit the ropers.  Some were clueless, and some were all about giving those ropers a run for the money.

(Keep reading if you are interested in why we should ask lots and LOTS of questions when in Rome.)

Scary Halloween Post

Daisy sent me this. It is, perhaps, the most frightening jumping video I have ever seen. Right in time for Halloween. Unfortunately, it’s real.

Disclaimer: this is not funny.

Embedding has been disabled (you’ll see why). I had to put it here as a link.  It’s shocking, so be prepared.

The horse is the most golden, willing soul in the world, and deserves new owners, a good massage, chiropractic, and a lot of love.

The Scary Jumping Video

Now.

If you’ve watched it: what should the judges role have been? Should they have stopped the ride? If not, why? Clearly the guy knows how to ride, or he would not have been able to balance enough to regroup: he would have fallen off. (Wouldn’t that have been a relief.  I wanted to take the crop to him – if for no other reason than whacking the horse after he believed it refused and knocked a jump down, when in fact the dude fell on the horse’s neck when he took off, causing the horse to plop into the jump.)

If it’s not the judge’s job to stop a ride like this, wouldn’t the venue (this does not look like a Podunk venue), or even the judges, be able to be held liable if the man got hurt? It’s so blatantly clear he is dangerous to himself, the horse, and others, I suspect everyone involved could be sued to the max for not intervening, despite the usual waivers.

What do you think?

Sometimes You’re the Windshield…

I’ve been workout riding every day, and felt I was ready to start adding horses to my catch ride string.  I’m not sore, and my seat is returning.  As the show season winds down, and the icky season comes closer, people will spend more time fireside, instead of more time in a soggy parka wrenching boots out of the mud, so they can ride their higher-than-a-kite horse during another driving rain storm.

Hey it works for  me!  Win-win.

I’m not sure who I’ll be riding this winter.  Two of my guys moved (I’ll miss them, despite the fact they were on my Kingdom Come list).   I still have Hudson and Tiny.  Pops’ owner asked if I’d pick him up one day a week.  I have room and I like Pops, so I said yes.  But it’s a little problematic riding a horse like Pops only one day a week.  He was a super successful racehorse, and he retains a sense of entitlement: “oh you’re one of the minions I don’t need to remember”.

Today was my first Three Horse Day.  Three full workout rides.  For the non-horsey, this is the equivalent of 3  consecutive  hour-long-each kickboxing workouts.  With different sized instructors.

Did I really do this last winter with 5 horses??

OW.

Book Review: The Adult Rider by Sarah Montague

The Adult Rider: A Practical Guide for First-Time Equestrians and Adults Getting Back in the Saddle

by Sarah Montague

As part of a blog tour, the publisher contacted me and asked if I would be willing to read and then post a review of my thoughts on this book.  Of course!  When do I not have an opinion?

I was a little skeptical.  From the title, I figured it would be yet another “How-To” introduction-to-horses book.  Stores are packed with (often necessarily) oversimplified books on “How to Start With Horses” that leave the reader lacking crucial information.

This is not one of them.

The scope and clarity of information in The Adult Rider sets it lengths ahead of the pack. Montague expertly conceives the needs of the adult rider from a perspective that is both sociological and  inherently practical.  The information is so deftly handled and natural in tone, that it seems amazing this book is really the first of it’s kind.  She repeatedly prompts the reader to remain in the context of their life while making the deliberations necessary to make honest decisions.

July 4th

No offense UK!  It’s US Independence day.

This means:

• Fishing Derby
• Potluck
• Squirtguns
• More potluck
• Lots of screaming and chasing
• Endless pots of coffee
• Bouncy air house for little kids

And appreciation for all those who have fought for our preserved our independence as a country.

Thank You.

The Royal We

We have kids who are sick, have been sick, and have gotten sick again.  During summer.   When  it is SO NOT FAIR, and 100 degrees outside with no A/C. Our very MEAN moms will not let us go swimming!  SO UNFAIR.

The thing is, it IS unfair.  Not our fault, but unfair nevertheless.

We aren’t at our wits end, but Wit’s End was the last street sign we saw yesterday, before everything went dark.  It’s harder for the kids, who have every reason to BE at wit’s end, with one whole summer month down and still not feeling good.

We are experiencing technical difficulties.

Technically, it is difficult to get to our computer.  We may be erratic (or stupid) in our posting for awhile. We have faith this too will pass.  Sort of.

Serious Sweepings

Tidy Bin #1: email bag

Sob.  My first “I’m unhappy with you Jane” email has arrived.

French Toast Friday’s Shrink Wrapped post hurt a valued reader’s feelings.  Completely not the objective of that post.   I do not want to hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry that happened.