Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Welcome to the Inner Workings of My Mind...and how my horse came to be!

I am pretty sure my blogs will eventually piss someone off, which will be interesting to watch unfold. I have seen some cool ass stuff on here in the past few days, and I have to say it's pretty cool to find like-minded people out there. See? Not ALL of the horse industry is currupt! SWEET!

This is going to be long - I apologize. he he

I grew up showing Hunters and Equitation. I learned a lot from some of the best horse trainers in the world, and learned a lot of what NOT to do from them also. Hey, not everyone's perfect! But, my favorite trainer out of all of them, the one who introduced me to every part of a horse, not just looking pretty on it, I still consider a very good friend even though she has moved to the other side of the country.

When I sold my show horse, Burtie ("Look No Further") at the end of my junior career, I was extremely devestated. I swore I was never going to get that close to a horse again. I spent five very blissful years with him as my best friend and soul mate and when my parents got rid of him to pay for my college, I was crushed. So, needless to say, I spent the next eight years riding on Georgia Southerns riding team (for two) and then training horses behind the scenes for local farms and friends. Horse showing very little, but getting my foot in the show ring every once in a while to ensure I didn't get to rusty. But the love for the showing had been beat out of me as a junior, and I just didn't feel the drive. I spent most of my junior career catch riding and showing other people's horses, but nothing felt better than finally entering a show ring with Burtie for the first time (In Charleston at Sea Brook Island) and freaking winning. He was four, and the best horse I have ever worked with. Well, until G, but I'll get there.

Eight years after the sale of Burt, I was approached by a horse buddy of mine, Debbie about a horse she had seen. Apparently, she went to a smaller Rescue in north Georgia to look at this tall thoroughbred she had been told about by the owner of the rescue who was a friend. Debbie, after seeing said horse, came immediately to our farm where I was body clipping an older horse and basically ignored her when she told me about this horse she had seen that would be PERFECT for me. I blew her off. What the hell did I need to buy a horse for? I had four in training and a full-time job! I proceeded to totally forget about this conversation.

A month later, a friend of mine bought a farm, and told me to go ahead and get a horse and I could work off my board by teaching. I put some feelers out for a horse, but didn't really pursue it heavily. I knew I wanted a rescue horse. That part was easy. Finding something tall enough for me and that would suit my needs was of course and entirely different story. Well, as fate would have it, I found a Trakhener cross at a rescue. When I called the woman, she told me he was no longer available, but she did have an OTT Thoroughbred who needed a good home and could jump. I called Debbie immediately and told her she had to go with me to look at him. Her reaction? "You dumbass, I told you about that effing horse a month ago." Oops. Her next statement? "Get your damn $500 donation ready because he's coming home with us."

So I pack all my stuff that Sunday morning, April 8th, the day after my birthday, and Debbie and I make the two hour trek to go look at this wonder horse. Well, I have to say, silly biatch was right (as always - annoying!!). I took one look at that skinny boy and was a gonner. Oops again. Well, also, the fact that his name was Gretzky (after the famous hockey star!!!) didn't help me with walking away without him.

He was lame, but I did a flex test (thank God I worked for a vet for two years!), etc. on him. Did the hoof testers - hello problem. Sore heels. Well, with a shoeing job like that, I can only imagine!! ha ha I rode him for five minutes - long enough not to torture him, but long enough to just KNOW. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I just acquired myself a horse.

The lovely lady at the rescue let me keep him there for two weeks while I prepped for his arrival and also took a little vacation that had been planned for months. I will say this: for those two weeks, I spent 6 of them making the two hour trip just to be near him. Again, gonner.

Two weeks later, baby in tow, ownership papers in tow (don't ask) we were on our way. He was great! He was actually great for the first week. And then, the magic happened (ha ha Magic ha). I found out that my horse is deathly afraid of stalls. And Whips. And noises. And being mounted. He was afraid of damn near everything. He wouldn't let me touch his head. He wouldn't let me pick his feet. He flipped himself over in the washrack. He ran me down. He essentially scared the shit out of me. That's when I realized that he had been at the Rescue for three months - he was used to it, comfortable there - happy there. I had taken him away from his happy place and he was afraid that the beatings would happen again. Jesus, what did I get myself into?

I read every book I could get my hands on. Called everyone I knew. For four months I worked with him. I would sit on an over-turned bucket in his stall and read so he would be used to me being near him and (hopefully) make friends. I would use the same over-turned bucket to mount him.....well, ask him to stand politely without taking off. the first time we tried this, it was three hours before I was in the saddle. By the end of four months - we were down to ten minutes! hellyeah. We worked on EVERYTHING. But still, he was scared, and to be honest, I didn't trust him. How could I expect him to trust me if I didn't trust him? Not exactly fair.

That's when I called my old trainer and friend and she suggested I take him to Blue Ridge to Dave Seay (http://www.daveseay.com/) to work with him. So, that's exactly what I did. Three hours after starting working with Dave my horse and I had acquired a new lease on our life together. Similar to marriage couseling. I learned that instead of talking him into my language, it was time to start speaking his. Not only that, this whole time I was making excuses for him because "he was abused" to which Dave said, "Yes, and that's sad. But it's over now. Time to move on." and it's so funny because it never even dawned on me to think that way. Gotta love it.

Since the trip to Dave, it's still been a struggle, but my little bugger head finally loves me, a year and a half later, and we trust each other. We have moved to a new farm in april of last year that is closer and I get to see him twice a day. Everything in our world has changed since that day with Dave, and I can't say enough how much I learned from him, or thank him enough for giving me and my horse the bond we both were looking for (but didn't know it).

Yesterday, as I was bringing him in from the pasture...I realized something...something you don't realize when you do it everyday. When we would come upon the drainage ditches (filled with water) that I had to cross in work clothes and muck boots, Gretzky would stop and wait, let me cross first and then jump them (freaking horse loves to jump - he's a mess). Then when we got to the gate, I put the lead rope on his neck, let him go through first, and then closed the gate behind us. I looked up to realize that he was standing perfectly stock still - waiting for me to come up to him so he could continue on. My heart swelled. And he finally, after almost two years, really does like me :)

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