Plus, I feel like I have never once led you guys into thinking I make good decisions. Am I right? Of course I'm right.
I really like making page breaks.
So anyway, I had a really awful ride Sunday morning, and it was entirely my fault. Move along; nothing new to see here! I brought Hubby along to do our last set of 2'6" jumping of the month. He was my jump crew, and the blog's video crew. However, your videos are going to be limited because my computer is being the biggest bitch on the planet--like even more of a bitch than Justin Beiber--and I don't feel like cropping out ten minutes of air time as we trot around in circles before the three seconds of me going over a jump.
But I can give you some blurry video stills!
|i've lost so much weight since i bought my breeches, |
the crotch sags like i've got something to hide.
He actually didn't start off too bad. He had his head llama-ed in the air, and if I squeeze my fingers he'll drop it, but I didn't. Don't ask me why. As such, he came hopping around a turn unfocused and hollowed out and charged the jumps just like olden days.
I stuck with it for awhile. I wasn't snatching his face. I wasn't getting left behind. And dang did my leg feel solid for once. But slowly Bobby started to get more and more upset.
Now I could try to blame it on the weather. It was cold. But it wasn't any colder than it has been, and it wasn't so cold as to cause discomfort while working. Regardless, I took lots of walk breaks between jumps to make sure he wasn't working so hard that he was having to breathe heavily.
I can try to blame his fitness. He's nowhere where he needs to be to competing, but he's certainly fit enough to jump around three 2'6" fences off-and-on for thirty minutes.
He just did not want to play the game if he had to do it with a bit in his mouth. He probably thought he'd already firmly established that this summer, but no. Not when I own you! And honestly I don't even think it was anything I was doing at that point. It was just that he remembers that bit = snatching, and fuck it all if Bobby doesn't hold a grudge for life.
Instead of just writing off the day and being done, I was going to make a point, dammit! This horse can jump around these jumps at a mostly consistent pace no matter what's on his face, or I'm going to hook him to the back of an Amish buggy and send him on his way.
Obviously that didn't go well. I had Hubby drop the oxer to an X and we practiced trotting up to it and over it--something even Bobby can do without throwing a tantrum.
He came around the turn and went bolting up to the jump. I pulled the e-brake and stopped him right before the fence. He was not going to pull that bullshit over a 2' cross rail. Well, that just solidified in Bobby's mind that jumping with a bit means he gets his face ripped off. So we kept doing it over and over and over. Bobby bolts, I yank, and then kick him over the jump, he bolts again, I yank again.
Eventually, we got some sort of control at the trot, but he still cantered the last two strides:
I should have just left it at that since I was actually doing any real schooling at this point. We were just fighting. But, no. Of course I didn't!
"Okay, Bobby. You can sort of trot that. Let's go ahead and try cantering it."
Bolt, yank, jump, bolt, yank.
"Okay, Hubby. Make that X ground poles, please."
Bolt, yank, jump, bolt.
He ran me right into the gate despite me pony club kicking him and my spur dug into his side. And then he shut down. He parked his feet and no amount of kicking or turning his head was going to get him mobile again. I took off my belt (No, I didn't beat him with it, guys. Jesus.) and buckled it around his neck. I looped my reins, grabbed my new neck strap, and had Hubby lead us off at the walk. We walked all the way around to the ground pole, walked over it without dramatics, I forced myself to give him a pat and a "Good boy", and I immediately dismounted.
I know I only have myself to blame for all of this, but this horse is just so fucking dramatic. His ability to blow things out of proportion is frustrating beyond belief. I need a horse that can take a joke once in awhile, not one that goes on mental lock down.
I went back to the barn today and gave him a beast of a grooming that he didn't need and three massive apples as an apology. But I also set an ultimatum: If we can't figure it out this season, he's getting sold. I'm wasting my time otherwise.