Sassy Pants? Try Pissy Pants.

Bobby got his second "jump school" in the indoor Saturday. It wasn't really a jump school. It was more me riding in a jumping saddle so I could do some real half seat work and work on my feel of what Bobby's jumping canter needs to be. We just so happened to go over three baby jumps (2'6 and a 2' line) a few times.

He did duck out to the right the first time I turned him in to the single vertical, but it took him a bit by suprise and, turning in to it, it almost looked like you were going to jump into the oxer. An opening left rein helped, but it also made him land on the incorrect lead. Since our flying changes lately have ranged from rarely there to OMGIhavefeetwhat, he only switched in front which put us out of balance for the turn to the line.

At this point, I'm pretty much taking the "whatever" stance on it. I know the problem is his hind end, I know the solution to the problem is strength work, and I know that I can't do any consistent strength work until winter is over. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck fucking winter, is all I have to say about that.

No, actually, I have a lot to say about the matter, but I don't want to work myself into an anti-winter rage that accomplishes nothing. Yay, ponies.

"yay, cookies?"

Bobby was in rare form Sunday. (I love that expression. It's the ultimate "You're being an asshole" saying.) Sunny went down to the ring just before us which was also a big "whatever" because I enjoy riding with Bobby's long lost brother. His mom is nice to ride with because we both keep an eye on what the other person is doing and easily stay out of each other's way. However, less enjoyable people to ride with arrived so I went to work pretty quickly to try to get as much out of my ride as I could before they invaded the arena.

Bobby was crooked, stiff, and completely unaccomidating to any of my requests. He had no interest in playing that day. Then in came L who proceeded to lunge her horse in the middle of our small dressage court sized arena with two other riders in it. Awesome. There is so much room for that!!!!!! I parked Bobby off to the side to avoid collision and waited for her to finish.

She got done and her daughter came in with another horse. Unfortunately, neither L or her daughter have much spatial awareness when it comes to sharing a small space. Bobby's general pissy attitude quickly escalated to full out naughtiness and we had several of his classic flying backwards and spinning around temper tantrums. He did have some really jaw dropping lateral work though. It just usually ended with bucking and backing instead of ending with going straight.... or forward.

I finally threw in the towel and excused myself from the arena to go on a quick trail ride. I really wanted to work him out of it, but there just wasn't the room or the right riders to work around. The ground was horrendous from the constant thawing and freezing, but I just gave Bobby his head and let him do what he wanted speed-wise. We trotted most of it, galloped up our hill, and picked our way down the steepest, longest hill to get back.

"lala, not listening."

He's getting fit, he's coming off of sporadic work, he's getting bored, and it's all coming together to make both of us feel like ripping our hair out. I am sooooo ready to start weekly trot sets in the xcountry field, daily trail rides, and jumping in a big arena. Begone, winter!

Sassy.

Mr Magee had his sassy pants on today. He spent his entire time in the aisleway trying to escape to the great outdoors, and then nearly bowled me over when I tried to stop him by the mounting block. Aww hell no. We had a brief in-hand Come to Jesus about personal space and stopping when I say stop before I swung on. Then we had another Come to Jesus when he walked off as soon as I was on which is my number one pet peeve in horses.

That pretty much set the tone for our entire ride. We walked for a solid fifteen minutes working on a plethora of things--things Bobby really had no interest in participating in.

Bobby: I think I heard a noise.

Me: No you didn't. Keep moving.

Bobby: Oh, okay.

Me: No, keep moving faster than a sloth, Bobby.

Two seconds later...

Bobby: PRETTY SURE I JUST HEARD A NOISE.

Me: Put your fucking head on straight before I let you hear the noise of me ending your life.

Five minutes later...

Me: Bobby, why are you incapable of keeping the contact when I ask you to walk off from a halt?

Bobby: Wait, what?

Me: This. This is what I want, Bobby!!!!

Bobby: Ohhhh. Got it.

Two minutes later....

Bobby: I call this move the spinning giraffe on ice skates.

Me: All I wanted was a quarter turn on the forehand.

Bobby: Weeeeee!!! Look! I'm still spinnning!!

His trot was moderately more cooperative, so I decided to end with a run through of Novice A in sitting trot. Not because it's difficult, but because it's more fun. And it looks prettier. Bobby hasn't cantered in nearly two weeks and the first 20m circle was a bit of a rodeo. Plus, it was obviously his cue we should be cantering nonstop for the rest of the ride.

Bobby: Canter? Why not gaaallopp!! Trot? How about.... gaaallopp!! Across the diagnol? How about.... wait, hold on. My front and back ends just went opposite directions. Alright, better now. Gaaallopp!! Down the centerline? Gaall-- No, time out. I like going down the centerline.

And then he had a fancy prance and ended on a 10 halt.

His foot isn't a hundred percent healed, but it's clearly not bothering him any longer. Hopefully sassy pants will get a real workout this weekend.

sunday sass.

It's a bird, it's a plane...

No! It's a saddle! On my horse!

don't you judge my shitty tack. it fits my horse.

Eight days off, three days of stall rest, no pre-longe session, and Bobby stepped right back into work exactly where we left off. We walked to the left while Sunny did his w/t/c work, focusing on basics like not leaning on the bit, lateral work, halting and walking off without poking his nose out, and rein back. When we switched directions, I asked him for the trot. He felt good. Maybe not as big and bouncy as usual, but not short or sore either.

I asked him to really go to work on sitting on his sad little butt and bringing his two ton head up. Suprisingly, this was hardly difficult. I did some sitting trot straight down the quarterline, then asked for the walk on the short side and did shoulder in down the opposite long side. He was so fab, I decided to try to shoulder in at the trot, something we've gotten maybe one step of so far. Down the quarterline feeling fly, Sue called out that we looked really pretty, and asked for the shoulder in.

Bobby did a beautiful interpretation of a drunken giaraffe trying to do ballet. All four legs went different directions, his head went up and out, and we kind of drifted off the rail and kind of didn't. The patent is pending on this upper level movement once I figure out what to call it. I giggled the whole way down the longside because I could see us in the mirror and it was such a mess. Back to the walk where he gave me his best effort yet, and he let me know that was the limit his foot could take for the day. A good place to end, and a good exercise to work on in the future.

foamy slobber face.

He'll get tomorrow off. Our ride was only twenty minutes at the most, but come on. The dude just had a hole in his foot. I'll cut him some slack.

POP.

This is my third winter in PA, and I must say that I am still blown away by the tizzy fit these people have about a little bit of snow. Not all of them, but most of them. We got a whopping two inches (!!) of snow from Nemo. Whoa, Nelly! Schools got let out early, yada yada, the whole shebang. Really, people? Two inches? Back in my days of upstate NY living, no one even noticed two inches. In fact, it wasn't until we got two feet that people started relaxing. I salute all of you New Englanders that are all, "Yep, we got a lot of snow. Moving on."

Since we didn't get anything exciting, I'll post a few NY pictures of blizzards over the years because I'm feeling a little nostalgic for real winter (although I have enjoyed not having to pull the snow shovel out once this winter).

previous ottb storm let loose in the yard while i did his stall.
feb. 2010

he loved to antagonize my goats.

same storm in '10.

darcy in an '09 storm. (oh my gosh, my puppy is getting old!)

valentine's day '07.

same storm. i lived in a basement apt. and this bunny tunneled
to my window to eat sticks.

red pony! '07.

So suck up our lame two inches, PA. You guys are just silly.

Anyway, even I am taken aback by how much I fucking ramble sometimes. Bobby's abcess blew Friday night/Saturday morning. I got to the barn Saturday and he was hanging out in Simon's stall while his got cleaned.

looking for attention. stall rest is boring.

Our dear friend Barn Worker decided once again that throwing hay down as I was trying to utilize my stall was a good plan, so I took Bobby down to the indoor until the aisle was cleared to see how he was feeling. He practically dragged me down and then the second his lead was unclipped, he took off bucking and farting to the end of the arena to roll. After he was thoroughly coated in dirt, he spent the next ten minutes tearing ass around on his own accord.

 I would like to insert a very brief rant in here. There is a difference between free lungeing and letting your horse loose in an arena/round pen. Free lungeing is controlled exercise with your horse, telling it where to go and at what speed. Free lungeing is having your horse listen to you and the cues from your body--back up, come in, turn around to the inside or the outside, etc. Turning your horse loose and chasing it with a whip as it bucks and snorts and probably rolls is not free lungeing. It's chasing your horse. Probably has its place, but it's not the same thing. Want to learn more? Buy Fundamentals of Free Lungeing by Dr Stephen Mackenzie, one of my all-time favorite professors during college. Please, everyone in the entire world, stop saying that you're free lungeing unless you actually are. It drives me fucking batty.

Off my soap box now.

That was officially the end of stall rest. I cleaned his foot off and finally saw the decent sized hole in his heel where the nasty thing blew. I asked BM if I should bother wrapping it again, but we decided to just let the fluffy snow (they got six inches at the barn) keep it clean. We brought Spyder and Bennie in and turned Bobby out with his nighttime pasture mates Silver and Ranger for a bit. He was like, "I'm outsiiiiidddeeee!!!" and couldn't stand still for a second.

polite, patient pony for stall rest, but who doesn't love to eat snow?

This morning, the hole looked really good and he wasn't bothered by me poking at it, so after giving him a good grooming, I took him up to the outdoor and jumped on bareback. He shot about three feet sideways as I jumped on, but my thunder thighs are good for something and I stayed on and repaid him with a boot to the ribs. That was his only naughtiness and we went right into real dressage work, albeit at a walk, for about ten minutes.

I tried to convince him that it would be cute if he romped and rolled in the snow, but he was more convinced he should just take a nap.

"really, lady? i lead a hard life. i should be allowed to nap."

napping conformation pic.
i love how much his neck has filled out, but that booty...

following me back to the gate. i got bored quickly.

So hell fucking yes for a four day turnaround of, "You need to come to the barn right now. Your horse is lame to the extreme." to "I'm a maaaaniac! Set me free!"

Easiest patient ever, Mr Magee. We both thank you for all of your healing juju!

The Call.

Yesterday afternoon I got The Call from BO. I'll spare you the dramatics (though Hubby was not so lucky when I called him up in hysterics that he had to come home from work and take me to the barn right now), and say that Bobby is not sick! Broken, yes, but not dying. That's a nice change from The Call(s) I got about Red.

The gist is that Bobby came in lame the morning of his farrier date. Farrier pulled the shoe on the leg he was lame on (RH) to look for an abcess. No cigar, but he said not to rule it out. Yesterday, he came in so lame, BM opted not to turn him out and BO called me.

I got to the barn and Bobby was hanging out in his neighbor's stall while his got cleaned. He was perky and happy and nosing my pockets for treats. His RH was also the size of my thigh and completely non-weight bearing. I immediately thought leg, but BM suggested abcess. His foot wasn't hot, but his leg was. I decided the best course of action was to cover all our bases and doctor both.

I trudged up to BO's house with my fellow abcess battling boarder to get hot water, and then dragged my hopping pony out into the aisle where he proceeded to paw with a front hoof and adamently refuse to put any weight whatsoever on his back hoof. I gave up on soaking after less than ten minutes before we both had full blown temper tantrums. I packed his foot with Epsom salt and wrapped him up. I put a sweat on his RH and wrapped his LH. He gimped back into his stall and tucked into his hay. Hubby and I watched him for awhile and occasionally he'd put weight on the bad leg. That was good enough for me to leave him for the night. I was worried more about his LH than anything, but I know he likes to lay down so I hoped he'd be smart and do that when his legs got too tired.

weight bearing! hoorah!

This morning, BM greeted me with the news that he was looking okay. That was a huge understatement. He was looking waaaay better! He walked out of his stall lame, but able to use his RH. I unwrapped him and poked around his foot to see if I could find a hole because his foot smelled. Not freshly blown abcess smell, but not very appealing either. I couldn't find anything, but I got a violent reaction when I prodded his heel. That was a good sign, but his leg was still warm and a little swollen.

I walked him around the barn a bit and while visibly off, he was weighting the RH without fuss. I stuffed his foot in his tub and got him to stand squarely. However, while I was grooming him, he was obviously not comfortable. Every minute or so, it was like his leg spasmed and he jerked it up. I'm sure it felt good to rest his LH, but it was clearly still hurting his RH. Poor pony. We got fifteen minutes of soaking in and I re-wrapped and re-sweated, almost getting my face kicked when I grabbed his heel to move his foot. Once his diaper, vet wrap, and duct tape bootie was on, he did seem happier to stand on it in his stall and he left his hay to come over to the door to get his goodbye cookie--something he couldn't/wouldn't do yesterday.

Fingers crossed it's just an abcess and the swelling in his leg will go down once it blows. I'll give him this weekend of the same treatment, and see where we are on Monday. If he's still lame, or nothing's come out yet, I'll probably have the vet out to make sure it's not something else.

Not my horse.

Hey, Pitbull. Guess what? I'm not having a good time. I'm experiencing the full affects of a Super Bowl hangover. But the right team won, so it was all worth it. As Hubby so eloquently put it last night, "I'm glad your team won because you're a sore loser and I didn't want to have to deal with it." I don't give a fuck. I'll own up to it. I'll ride this hangover all the way to the betting bank, bitches.

Bobby lost a front shoe on our trail ride yesterday. My new bell boots are on their way (because I hate driving all the way to the tack store), so he will remain unridden until he gets a new shoe on Wednesday or until his booties get here. Probably the latter as I ordered them from Dover with a gift certificate I got from Bucks over the summer. Stupid Dover.

Here's a helmet cam video from the end of our icy, slippery, miserable trail ride. The boys got a lot of walking up and down hills work, but I would have preferred it if we hadn't had to do it on cement-like frozen tundra.

(P.S. Nothing happens in that video, so don't feel obligated to watch it unless you're really bored. I figured I'd just throw some media at you.)

I went to the barn this morning to make sure nothing had gotten into Bobby's boot, leave a check for the farrier, and to poke cookies down his throat. I went ahead and rode Spyder to make the drive worth it. (Though I'm sure my farrier will think it was worth it to have a check waiting for him.)

handsome spyder

I spent some time tidying up Spyder Pants--banged his tail, trimmed his bridle path, and gave him a really good curry. Then it was down to the indoor where Barn Worker (oooooh, I dislike him!!) thought it would be a good idea to use the chainsaw to cut up firewood right outside the arena when he knew I was about to go ride and when J had just pulled in with her horse. It's like he waits around doing nothing until I'm about to Do Work, and then he intentionally gets in my way. He twice this year has barred me in Bobby's stall by throwing hay down and blocking the door. You know I'm in there, asshole. You can't wait two fucking seconds for me to leave?

Needless to say, J and I longed our horses for a good fifteen minutes to get the crazies out as they reacted to the horse killing demon saw they could hear but not see. I jumped on while J tacked her horse up at her trailer and went right to work. S still hasn't cantered Spyder because she's afraid of what he'll do (fair enough), so my main goal in riding him was just to canter him until he was polite.

Fortunately for me, Spyder doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He has lots of "I'm a silly, green, underworked young OTTB" bones, but he never does anything maliciously. The point being that he could have dumped me on my ass a few times, but he listened to my corrections and we worked through his bucks/scoots/lunges/"Look at me, I'm a racehorse!" prancey leaps. We had a little discussion about how to politely pick up the canter to the left--it did not involve spinning and leaping forward at the same time, by the way--and ended with some quiet trot work.

The ride made me appreciate A) What a bad ass I used to be. I found myself perched over rank, rude racehorses on and off the track daily for the three years I was in college and it rarely fazed me. Now I'm a little more aware of my mortality, but I still kind of have fun when a horse tests me. B) How well schooled Bobby has become. I take for granted that he knows how to move off my leg in every direction, and that he knows how to w/t/c in a straight line down quarterlines and the center line. I could barely get Spyder to walk in a straight line on the rail.

This won't be much of a riding week. I have things to do which happens rarely enough, and I kind of think my car is ready to do bad things again.

Our horses are smarter than us.

I know I wrote that I wouldn't know when I would get out next because of the weather, but the weather was all, "Let's be friends!" Thursday. Sure, it was chilly and still wet from all the melted snow and the downpour from Wednesday, and the wind was gusting at 40mph (legit wind advisory), but there was SUN!!! Sunnnnnnn!!!! Damn right we'll be friends, weather.

There was an apparently impromptu lesson going on in the indoor and I really wanted to do more than avoid people for once, so I threw on Bobby's jump tack and slopped through the mud up to the outdoor. It was sloppy, but totally rideable. I rolled two ground poles together in the middle of the arena to work over. I really wanted to set up an X, but sinking up to my ankles convinced me the footing wasn't that good.

not even close to representing the slop.
also, we lost a bell boot.

Bobby was a super star. I don't know if it's that he just finished up his ulcer treatment (which did wonders for his weight and general pissy attitude about touching him anywhere near his belly), or if he's left his Terrible Sevens and his brain has clicked over to Work Horse Magee, but he has been so focused and.... pleasant to work with. He didn't get turned out because of the ice (and he's used to 17 hours of turnout a day), the spreader was running in the field next to the arena, the tarp was whipping around by the gate like a horse-eating blue flag, and horses were racing each other. He didn't glance at anything. "Time to work? Oh, okay. Move faster than a snail? Oh, I guess."

We had a really nice w/t/c, collecting and lengthening his canter from half seat. Sane, happy work over the poles. Some no stirrup work. Leg yields. Nothing ground breaking, but all easy peasy. Well, easy peasy on Bobby's part. Holy shit, do I lose fitness fast. Too much time in my dressage saddle has made my calves feel very, very sad doing two point. Very. Fucking. Sad. I feel a trail ride in two point coming on.

giant dopey donkey head.

Today I read two blog posts when I came home from the barn. One from Savvy's mom, one from Shyloh's mom. I point these out because they both carry the same message: I underestimate how awesome my horse has become, and how much of a bad ass she is. I was like, "Dudes! You don't say. I was just telling Hubby the same thing!" Only I wasn't because I was just reading a blog, but I'm saying it now, Savvy and Shyloh's moms.

I wanted to set up a couple of jumps in the outdoor today, but when I went up there, the ground was literally cement. Something about wet stone dust freezing? Who knew? So I very begrudgingly went down to the indoor where there were some trot poles and two lines of jumps set up. Bobby warmed up a little sloth-like, but I had my spurs on and he eventually went to work.

As we were cantering along, I got ballsy (and bored) (and mad I wasn't in the outdoor) and went over the tiny X while on a circle. Bobby went over it in stride, landed on the correct lead, and carried on like it hadn't even happened. We switched directions and went over a little vertical the same way. Uh, what?

Hubby was like, "Is everything going okay?" with a look like, "Are you about to have another crazy person melt down?" Fair enough, Hubby. Fair enough.

Basically, what it comes down to is that I'm trying to be a little more Zen in my approach to Bobby, and a little smarter. Since he's such a dope, and so slow in general, I just expect him to lope around a stadium course like a hunter. Well, he's not a hunter. He's actually a very similar ride in stadium to Red. Give him his head, if he rushes, he rushes, and move on to the next. No picking at his face, no hauling on his mouth, no running him into the jump. While Red didn't always find his own perfect distance, he was the tidiest jumper I've ever sat on. I think Bobby, while a giant awkward doofus, can be the same way. He doesn't like to hit the rails, and he goes out of his way to get us over without touching anything.

That was a very long, rambling way of agreeing with Savvy and Shyloh's moms. My horse is awesome. My horse has confidence in himself. I need to have confidence in my horse because he is awesome.

favorite face rubs.

A trail ride is on the docket for tomorrow first thing in the morning so I can come home and park myself in front of the t.v. and drool over Joe Flacco all day. Football? There's a football in this game? Hmm....