|"HAI COOKIES NOW SO HUNGRY FEED ME."|
Now I know that I mentioned in my last post BM offered up her giant red TB to pack me around tiny fences until I feel like I'm not going to shit myself when something is higher than six inches, but Oz--the giant red TB--has spent this winter doing his best bashing his body parts on things and bleeding all over, and above pony is in constant need of "military rule" flat schooling according to BM.
So we did a little switcheroo of plans. Oz is step two. "When you're ready to canter fences again, you're going to canter them all day on Oz because there's no horse better for that job than him." Apollo is step one.
The pony is an Arabian/Quarter Horse/Welsh teen aged lesson pony. He likes to spook at random things when you ignore him for any amount of time, and he's the worst beggar for cookies I've ever met in my life, but he is a complete blast under saddle as I found out this morning.
|pre-grooming. how do people own grey horses?!|
His walk feels like you're on a ship in a very wavy ocean because it rolls along instead of feeling like each leg is being picked up and set down individually. It was a bit weird a first, but so comfy--sort of like how I'd imagine a gaited horse to be. His trot was totally pleasant, and the second I asked him to carry himself properly, he went right to work. His mouth is light, his half halts are instant, and he trucks along without any brattiness once he realizes you're not going to take his shit. His canter was decidedly not pony at all. He's very sporty and smooth with none of that short, choppy canter some ponies can throw out. I could have cantered along on him all day. Plus, I mean, HE'S A PONY.
HE'S JUST FUCKING CUTE ON PRINCIPLE.
|PONY COOKIES FACE.|
After I had a blast warming him up, BM asked me if I was ready to jump him. I was like, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"
The freaked out spazzy hamster half of my brain said, "No. Let's just have more fun on the flat. Flatting is SO FUN."
The very tiny baby balls side of my brain said, "You will be brave again, Self! Do it! No one is going to die!"
And BM said, "This pony doesn't know the word stop. He is not going stop on you."
So I said, "Please make me the teeniest, tiniest, babiest, microscopic cross rail you can."
I trotted my trusty pony in towards it. I felt him lock on and get excited, so I squeezed my fingers a bit to keep him from rushing it, and....
He trotted right over it like it wasn't even there. I mean, I'm not sure he even had to lift his feet up any more than he was just trotting along on the rail. BM laughed and set up another jump, this one a daunting 18" vertical. I dutifully trotted my X again, the pony dutifully pranced right over it without a care in the world, and we came around to the terrifying vertical.
Chanting out loud a mantra of, "Don't freak out, don't freak out, do no freak out" (Have I mentioned how much I love BM for her abilities in managing and not judging her bat shit crazy clients--myself definitely included?) I kept my eyes up, my leg sort of on, and Apollo did just enough to get over it at the trot without knocking the pole, but it wasn't so much of a hop.
AND I'M ALIVE TO TELL THE TALE.
So, there. That was my victory for the day. I "jumped" an eighteen inch straight rail. My own horse was also very good in his dressage school, so even though these are the very smallest of baby steps, we'll take each win as it comes.
|here is my puppy eating a giant icicle because|
she is cute, too.
Bobby has a training ride tomorrow. You have fun jumping my fancy Thoroughbred over big jumps, BM. Imma be over here like, "Rocked the shit out of that X today, Pony. We're so boss."