Last summer my husband found a kitten living under a van and brought it home to join our assortment of barn cats. She is a fine little calico kitty: She clings to your neck like a baby if you lift her up, and she loves to play with our young dachshund.
How could anything possibly go wrong? Well, before daybreak the other morning, which is usually my quiet time (I feed the dogs and sit down in the dark with a cup of coffee to pray), my younger son woke up terrified.
"Mom, Mom, what was that sound?"
The sound was the terrible wailing of a cat going into heat. Sure enough, when I went outside, the "baby" cat emerged from the barn wailing and posturing like...well... like the star of a really tasteless music video.
Where I live, which is very country (as we say around here), folks don't get their animals spayed. They get them "spaded." Hearing this always brings to my mind a picture of someone hitting a wailing female dog or cat over the head with a shovel, which I suppose would deliver a message something like this: Snap out of it! Forget about this crazy impulse and stay in the yard!
My husband contends it is time for me to get a "What's Happening to My Body?" workbook and go through it with the kitty. I contend it's time for him to start taking her to "True Love Waits" classes. He is stalling. Really, of course, it's time for another trip to the vet, which we will take as soon as I get paid at the end of the month. True love will only wait so long.
*******If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
14.5 Hands, and Other Creative Takes on Horsey Reality
Browsing the farm classifieds this morning, I came across a phenomenon I see on a regular basis: A horse described as being some number .5 hands. Clearly, either the owner doesn't understand the system of measuring by hands (each hand is just four inches, so a 14.5 hand horse is really 15.1), or that person is stubbornly clinging to his/her own version of reality. Knowing horsepeople, either explanation is possible.
Not that I haven't been stubborn and made my own share of gaffes. For example, I recall the time I was thrown up my horse's neck at my very first event. Instead of just allowing myself to fall so that I could get back on and begin to recover, I rode around for a moment struggling to get back in the saddle. Now that looked silly; fortunately for me, that happened in another state and none of my current horsey friends saw it!
I'm sure you can think of times when you, or someone you know, has made a horse-related mistake out of stubbornness. I recall when someone I know put a young horse in a stall next to some turkeys, on the principle that he ought to get over his fear of their clatter. Sure, you can see the logic to the argument, but perhaps the execution was a little too abrupt. The horse got over something, all right: He came right over the top of the dutch door.
One time, I purchased vinyl fencing because I was convinced by an article I had read that it combined that best features of many kinds of fencing: It is durable, and there are no boards to splinter and no wires that cut. What I didn't anticipate was that my mare's first foal, an inquisitive little colt, would pop in and out of the paddock like a child slipping between the bars of a jungle gym. I had to put up a strand of electric fence in a hurry!
I have no doubt that, while I may avoid repeating some of the mistakes I have made in the past, I will continue to learn some things the hard way in the horse world. However, I no longer worry as much about my pride, which after all might get in the way of me actually learning from the experience. When I was at a clinic several years back with one of the finest horsemen ever to swing a leg over a saddle, Ray Hunt, I heard him say "I don't ever make the same mistake twice; I'm too busy making new ones!"
*******If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Not that I haven't been stubborn and made my own share of gaffes. For example, I recall the time I was thrown up my horse's neck at my very first event. Instead of just allowing myself to fall so that I could get back on and begin to recover, I rode around for a moment struggling to get back in the saddle. Now that looked silly; fortunately for me, that happened in another state and none of my current horsey friends saw it!
I'm sure you can think of times when you, or someone you know, has made a horse-related mistake out of stubbornness. I recall when someone I know put a young horse in a stall next to some turkeys, on the principle that he ought to get over his fear of their clatter. Sure, you can see the logic to the argument, but perhaps the execution was a little too abrupt. The horse got over something, all right: He came right over the top of the dutch door.
One time, I purchased vinyl fencing because I was convinced by an article I had read that it combined that best features of many kinds of fencing: It is durable, and there are no boards to splinter and no wires that cut. What I didn't anticipate was that my mare's first foal, an inquisitive little colt, would pop in and out of the paddock like a child slipping between the bars of a jungle gym. I had to put up a strand of electric fence in a hurry!
I have no doubt that, while I may avoid repeating some of the mistakes I have made in the past, I will continue to learn some things the hard way in the horse world. However, I no longer worry as much about my pride, which after all might get in the way of me actually learning from the experience. When I was at a clinic several years back with one of the finest horsemen ever to swing a leg over a saddle, Ray Hunt, I heard him say "I don't ever make the same mistake twice; I'm too busy making new ones!"
*******If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Empty Stall Syndrome (ESS)
In my experience it has always been true that nature abhors an empty stall, so it is all the more remarkable that my four stall barn has stood empty for two years. Well, empty of all but some bicycles and lawn tractors... it's hard to believe that I used to run a boarding/lesson operation. This was in addition to having two small children AND working full time. I look back at myself (as I was in those days) with a mix of admiration for my energy level and contempt for my poor judgement. It was crazy to do all those things at once. However, you know how it is when something is rolling along, it's hard to break out of patterns.
Not that I ever made much money, but back then the boarding/lesson operation did make a small profit to supplement my tiny salary from academic advising. That is, if I calculated the worth of my time in the barn at about a dollar an hour! This is the trap horsepeople fall into; it always amazes me when I see local barns trying to undercut each other on board rates. Yet, by the time you buy feed and hay and shavings, there isn't much left to pay yourself for all the time you spend cleaning stalls or sitting up with a colicky horse while you wait for its owner to arrive...
At any rate here I am now, not trying to get back into the horse business, but slowly preparing to get another horse. My husband (bless his heart, as we say here in the South), has taken down my rickety old paddock fence and replaced it with a solid, three-board fence. It still needs painting, but that was a huge step in the right direction. We also still need to string the new electric polywire around the pastures, and then hook up the new charger. Recalling a few adventures that ensued from electric fences that weren't strong enough, this time I bought a charger that is rated for everything up to Elk and Bison (I'm not kidding, this thing will knock you flat if you touch the wire).
I have to laugh when I reflect on how differently I am proceeding now. Ten years ago, horses used to show up on my farm almost as regularly as stray kittens...and we would just adjust and move on. It doesn't help that I have a real weakness for OTTB (off the track Thoroughbreds) and other project horses. Once, I drove all the way up to Rhode Island to rescue a TB that had raced and then been used as a "pony" horse on the track... what the man didn't share with me was that the horse was anhydrous. That means he couldn't sweat to cool off; this creates a real problem in southeastern NC!
I keep telling myself that this time, I will be rational. This time I will choose some superbroke, pleasant little Quarter Horse. This time I will not give in when someone I know calls with me an equine hard luck story. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go write this one hundred times: I will not give in to empty stall syndrome, I will not give in to empty stall syndrome...
*******If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Not that I ever made much money, but back then the boarding/lesson operation did make a small profit to supplement my tiny salary from academic advising. That is, if I calculated the worth of my time in the barn at about a dollar an hour! This is the trap horsepeople fall into; it always amazes me when I see local barns trying to undercut each other on board rates. Yet, by the time you buy feed and hay and shavings, there isn't much left to pay yourself for all the time you spend cleaning stalls or sitting up with a colicky horse while you wait for its owner to arrive...
At any rate here I am now, not trying to get back into the horse business, but slowly preparing to get another horse. My husband (bless his heart, as we say here in the South), has taken down my rickety old paddock fence and replaced it with a solid, three-board fence. It still needs painting, but that was a huge step in the right direction. We also still need to string the new electric polywire around the pastures, and then hook up the new charger. Recalling a few adventures that ensued from electric fences that weren't strong enough, this time I bought a charger that is rated for everything up to Elk and Bison (I'm not kidding, this thing will knock you flat if you touch the wire).
I have to laugh when I reflect on how differently I am proceeding now. Ten years ago, horses used to show up on my farm almost as regularly as stray kittens...and we would just adjust and move on. It doesn't help that I have a real weakness for OTTB (off the track Thoroughbreds) and other project horses. Once, I drove all the way up to Rhode Island to rescue a TB that had raced and then been used as a "pony" horse on the track... what the man didn't share with me was that the horse was anhydrous. That means he couldn't sweat to cool off; this creates a real problem in southeastern NC!
I keep telling myself that this time, I will be rational. This time I will choose some superbroke, pleasant little Quarter Horse. This time I will not give in when someone I know calls with me an equine hard luck story. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go write this one hundred times: I will not give in to empty stall syndrome, I will not give in to empty stall syndrome...
*******If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Will Trade Dog for Another Donkey
Well, you have to give the person who wrote this ad high marks for creativity:
I have a lonesome male donkey and am looking to trade a puppy for a female. Right now he is in a pasture with 2 cows and they are giving him a hard time because he is just trying to be to be friends. He needs a friend of his own. I have a litter (4) 6 wk old yorkies and would like to trade one for a jenny. My donkey has the cross on his back so I would like to have one like that but would consider all.
Not to say this is a bad deal, because this could be the perfect opportunity for someone who happens to have a jenny with a cross on her back, but this ad brought to mind an trade I once made. I traded a nice two-wheeled cart for an ancient pony who had Cushings' disease. Don't ask me what I was thinking, because I'm quite sure I wasn't... except that he was a very gentle, sweet pony and I wanted him when my boys were little. The only trouble was, he was not just thin, he was a walking skeleton, and I spent hundreds on medicine and special feed before he was well enough even to lead around with a child on his back.
However, "Scrappy" (his name was "Scrappy", but my older son had a habit then of dropping the "S" sound from words, so for a while he was "Crappy the pony") had another unusual attribute I have never seen before or since. His mane was so heavy and long that it had actually pulled the crest of his thin neck over to the right side. When our typical hot NC weather started for the summer I debated with myself for a long time, and finally roached his mane. It took an hour, even with sharp clippers. When I was finished he shook his head a trotted off in the pasture, no doubt feeling much cooler.
I think Scrappy enjoyed his last year on earth. Even though he arrived at my farm with one hoof in the grave he rallied, put on weight, and seemed to enjoy being petted and groomed by the children. Mostly, he hung out in the field with my retired mare, but every once in a while we would put a saddle on him and walk around. Nothing too strenuous. His previous owner told me Scrappy had once been a pony ride pony. I don't know whether that is true, but he certainly had the patience of a saint. When finally his little body gave out he lay in the pasture taking his last breaths. I sat beside, stroked his forehead, and thanked him for all he had done for people in his long life. His kind brown eyes focused on me for a moment, and his ear flicked at my voice. What a great spirit. In the end, I realized what a good trade I had made.
If you enjoy reading this blog please be sure to view an excerpt of my book "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" (now available as an ebook!)
I have a lonesome male donkey and am looking to trade a puppy for a female. Right now he is in a pasture with 2 cows and they are giving him a hard time because he is just trying to be to be friends. He needs a friend of his own. I have a litter (4) 6 wk old yorkies and would like to trade one for a jenny. My donkey has the cross on his back so I would like to have one like that but would consider all.
Not to say this is a bad deal, because this could be the perfect opportunity for someone who happens to have a jenny with a cross on her back, but this ad brought to mind an trade I once made. I traded a nice two-wheeled cart for an ancient pony who had Cushings' disease. Don't ask me what I was thinking, because I'm quite sure I wasn't... except that he was a very gentle, sweet pony and I wanted him when my boys were little. The only trouble was, he was not just thin, he was a walking skeleton, and I spent hundreds on medicine and special feed before he was well enough even to lead around with a child on his back.
However, "Scrappy" (his name was "Scrappy", but my older son had a habit then of dropping the "S" sound from words, so for a while he was "Crappy the pony") had another unusual attribute I have never seen before or since. His mane was so heavy and long that it had actually pulled the crest of his thin neck over to the right side. When our typical hot NC weather started for the summer I debated with myself for a long time, and finally roached his mane. It took an hour, even with sharp clippers. When I was finished he shook his head a trotted off in the pasture, no doubt feeling much cooler.
I think Scrappy enjoyed his last year on earth. Even though he arrived at my farm with one hoof in the grave he rallied, put on weight, and seemed to enjoy being petted and groomed by the children. Mostly, he hung out in the field with my retired mare, but every once in a while we would put a saddle on him and walk around. Nothing too strenuous. His previous owner told me Scrappy had once been a pony ride pony. I don't know whether that is true, but he certainly had the patience of a saint. When finally his little body gave out he lay in the pasture taking his last breaths. I sat beside, stroked his forehead, and thanked him for all he had done for people in his long life. His kind brown eyes focused on me for a moment, and his ear flicked at my voice. What a great spirit. In the end, I realized what a good trade I had made.
If you enjoy reading this blog please be sure to view an excerpt of my book "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" (now available as an ebook!)
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