|trying to poop out his door into the aisleway:|
bobby's secret stable vice.
|"this iz my excited face."|
(note the barely buckled girth. faaatttyyyy...)
Then I asked for the trot and he bounced into it with floppy happy ears. Mr Magee, are you finally showing some legendary Thoroughbred work ethic?!
His trot work was fucking fabulous. We started off big and bouncy and loose with our usual training level-ish head carriage, had a walk break, then came back up and I started asking for a more uphill, legit dressage frame. He started rushing a bit, so I gave him a half halt and BAM--insta-collection.
He was so responsive to everything. I focused on keeping my leg on, hands up, and my reins super short (which translates to normal for the rest of you). He responded by giving me exactly what I wanted the second I wanted it. I literally could not have asked for anything else--especially not for his first real ride back after nearly three weeks off. He totally got what I was asking. "Bobby, do this." BAM. "Yes, ma'am!"
|foamy mc frotherson. that's what's up.|
Dudes. Riding a semi-fancy horse (that I know he is in there somewhere!) that's willing to work with you makes the inherently boring sport of dressage a little bit... fun. There, I said it. Dressage can be fun. He got a million and half cookies and a good head rub back at his stall. He was quite pleased with himself.
Then I came back home and patched a hole in his sheet. Stripes helped:
|"i eat your thread and steal your needle."|