Yesterday I turned Bobby loose with Memphy in hopes of averting another disaster of a ride like we had over the weekend. As soon as I took his halter off, Bobby went squealing and bucking across the ring, had an epic rollies fest, and then antagonized Memphis for awhile.
|"play with me, best friend!"|
They weren't really expending much energy though, so I snapped the longe whip a couple of times and then sat back to enjoy the show. Memphis wasn't nearly as cray cray as Bobby because he is very fat, but he gamely ran around behind my wild mule beast until they both got tired.
I brought them back to the barn, threw the lead rope over Bobby's neck and let him walk himself into his stall. As I was turning Memphis around to put him in the cross ties so I could brush all the dirt off of him before putting his blanket back on, I hear little pony feet walking away from me. I turn around and Bobby is off on a personal journey to go say hi to the mares in the paddock outside the barn.
He's such a horn ball for a gelding.
I finally got everyone sorted back out, Bobby tacked, and proceeded to have a really good dressage ride that involved zero racehorse moments.
Want to hear a sad story, though?
Of course you do.
As I was walking back down to the ring, I slid on the fucking fresh powdery snow and fell right on my bum. Bobby calmly stopped and looked down at me like, "Who's the fucking idiot in this relationship now, lady?" I got back up, stomped over to my car to put on my tall boots, and found out that I'd tied my new lace too tightly and had to adjust it. So I half hopped, half stomped over to the warming room so I could take care of that without falling in the snow....again.
Meanwhile, my asshole dogs have spotted BM leaving for the morning and have decided they want to give her a good send off by frolicking around in front of her car and ignoring me when I call them over.
I finally get them back, bend down to adjust the lace, and get pissed I now have to take my gloves off to untie the stupid thing. I chuck my gloves to the closest available flat surface and retie my boot. I zip it up and wonder where the smell of melting rubber is coming from.
|don't put gloves on a hot wood stove, kids.|
Be impressed I didn't just throw a tantrum to rival one of Bobby's right there. Those were brand new gloves.
On to today.
|not from today, but helmet cam stills are pretty bad ass.|
I set up the same course from a couple of weeks ago, only in reverse order and a couple holes higher: a 2'9" vertical at H, a 2'6" vertical on the diagonal, and a 2'9" oxer at F. I also had Bobby in his hackamore because I was too cold to stand there with a metal bit stuffed in my armpit for ten minutes.
Our flat warm up was great. Bobby even quietly stepped over into his lead changes instead of leaping into them and taking off with joyful head tossing abandon because "ZOMG I'M A RACEHORSE NEW LEAD MEANS GO FAST LOOK HOW FAST I AM!"
Warm up jumps:
I didn't really ride the first two jumps, so we got a bit close and flat to them, but I sat up and drove him forward to the oxer which revved him up enough to finish over the vertical really well.
I did the first two jumps again with a better pace and more active riding, and we were able to finish there with me feeling really happy (and Bobby full of cookies).
I'm kind of in an in between place with my riding over fences right now. I have to remind myself to sit chilly and don't pick or inadvertently send him shooting forward, but at the same time I still have to give him some guidance and sometimes be the one to override his decision. But when I get it right, we're golden.
Now he gets to sit around for two or three days while I hide under lots of blankets.
|we're not friends anymore, winter.|