Can't make it last

Two good boy days in a row last week was apparently all Opie had to offer.

After a good dressage ride that Monday, an excellent session with the cart on Tuesday, on Wednesday our young Dopie Horse couldn't steer.

Or really just horse at all to be perfectly honest.

"hai, hello, i am feral and retired now, bai."

BM walked into the ring near the end of my ride as I was attempting to get Opie to trot/jog/move in a semi-forward direction on the quarter line because he couldn't help but keep bashing my foot into the kick boards instead of getting off my outside leg. This was VERY OFFENSIVE to Opie--that is, not being allowed to run me into things. He was like a drunk toddler, and BM was all, "Wow, Opie. Much worm. Very wiggling."

We finished by popping over a 2'6" swedish oxer a few times right out of stride because that was easier in his head than going in a straight line. Whatever, broski.

wants to be a jumping horse. fell down and into a crossrail
the next day. does not get to be a jumping horse.

On Thursday he was better, on Friday he was dreadful. I had no horse in my hand for the entire ride. When I first got him we had to work hard to get him stretching out because he liked to curl up into this cute but very fake frame where it looked like he was going around nicely, but there was literally no contact with the reins. He came out of that this summer and has being doing really well. Not so much Friday.

Up, down, sideways, it didn't matter where his fool face was, I couldn't get an ounce of weight in my hand from him. It was like my reins were attached to air only my horse wasn't being light and lovely, he was being a bit of an asshole.

The next day? Perfectly fine.

celebrating tacos, side eye, and these banging new breeches.

Sooo, I'm going to just keep plugging away I guess. Hopefully next month when show season kicks off we'll be able to put more than one ride together without reverting back to "what is horsing what are legs my face doesn't exist oh no I fell down again."

That is, IF SOMEONE WOULD STOP BLEEDING ALL OVER THEMSELVES.

all 4 legs. because balance.

Sunday morning Hubby and I went out to the barn for a short list of things to accomplish: the monthly confo picture, mark where we needed to move the breeching dees on the shafts of the cart, and load the cart up to bring it home for a makeover.

The hay guys pulled in with a delivery right when we got there--thus blocking my confo background--so we decided to half-harness Opie quickly and cross the cart things off the list first. Opie was down with this. He wanted to wander a bit as I girthed him and flopped the breeching over his back, but we pulled the cart up to him without issue and he hung out begging for cookies while we marked the cart and double checked the fit.

From there? I do not fucking know. He went from zero to a thousand in half a second with no warning whatsoever. He was shifting around a bit, and I don't know if he bumped into something and it scared him or something on the harness pinched him when he moved or he just spontaneously combusted.

Whatever it was, he started tweaking and ripped the lead rope out of my hand so hard and fast it gave me rope burn. He tried to take off towards his field, but the cart wouldn't let him turn like he wanted to and he got stuck up against the fence which freaked him out even more. Fortunately things started breaking. He snapped both shafts in half, spun around and somehow ended up in the body of the cart (at which point I died because I thought for sure he was about to break all his legs), the buckles on the breeching broke, and he freed himself to run down the driveway towards the main road while I stood there like, "........wut."

It was so fast, and so violent, and so random that I wasn't even processing it. I snapped out of it and rounded the bend to the driveway to see Opie get to the main road and turn around with half of one of the shafts still banging against his side. He saw me, lasered in, and galloped right back to me, screeching to a halt and stuffing his head in my chest while I still pretty much just stood there like, "......wut."

Also fortunately, the fitting I had done last Tuesday had involved replacing some of the cheapo harness parts with new buckles and straps goods so I was able to unbuckle the back strap with one hand and thumb the girths loose with the other and everything still attached to him fell away in about two seconds just like it's supposed to. If he hadn't ripped the lead rope out of my hand and bolted, I would have been able to get him out of the cart just as quickly and easily.

I noticed free flowing blood on the RF but nothing else right away. I stuffed him in a stall to come down off his crazies while I helped Hubby clean up the harness and cart pieces. Upon further inspection he'd managed to scrape up all four legs to varying degrees, but by some fucking horse god miracle nothing went beyond skin.

the morning after. the RF (top left) bled through the gauze, but
other than that nothing too exciting.

How he didn't managed to maim himself worse, I honestly don't know. I can't imagine how much worse it could have been if things hadn't given away. A couple grams of bute in, he seemed perfectly sound this morning. I left all but the RF unwrapped while he stays on stall rest today to let everything dry out while the fresh 3" of snow melts outside. He's probably earned himself about a week off to let everything scab over and any soreness dissipate.

In the meantime, Imma be over here burning a few twenty dollar bills as a sacrificial offering in case you need me.