So, Cinch's feet are way too long. He was ready for a trim 3 weeks ago, and the trainer (who also trims and shoes) ran out of time.
I can't really fault him: besides training 6-8 horses, he's been clearing out and widening the back ring, sifting out all the rocks, grooming the ring multiple times daily, and doing tree pruning on the property - with full tree-pruning climbing gear, not a ladder. The guy does a bit of everything.
But that meant Cinch wasn't done. And then there was a horse show, and then they needed to prepare for Congress... so he asked the other reining horse farrier to do Cinch. I added Cinch to his list on the board.
And, oh, by the way, that farrier had dislocated his shoulder at some point.
Now, he is still shoeing (though I have no idea how) because that's his only source of income... but he's not exactly on top of things.
He forgot to do Cinch last Tuesday.
Meanwhile, the barn owner and trainer are out at the QH Congress, no one to remind him.
So when I got to the barn Saturday, I saw Cinch with really long toes, looking a bit uncomfortable as he walked, and did the math: it's been 9 weeks. I was a bit peeved, to say the least.
There was no way I was going to ride him... but I figured, this would be a good time to lead him out to the back field, give him a chance to see a big open space and stretch his legs without me putting any pressure on him.
So I did. And he was a bit snorty, barely taking a bite of grass before raising his head and looking around, very very alert... until bam, he dropped and rolled.
Well, then.
Looking back, I realize: what was I thinking? He hadn't been getting any work to speak of, just getting out of his stall a bit every day mostly lunged, since the trainer left. It would have been prudent of me to throw him in the round pen to get his ya-yas out before trying to give him his time in the field. But noooooo.
I have a pretty long lead line - 8 ft long - and he used every inch of that when he jumped up and proceeded to buck, fart, and rocket around me 100 miles an hour, on wet grass, in sliding plates.
I kept with him, trying to coax him back from the brink, but he was starting to go sideways and I watched in horror as his back end got closer and closer to the ground, his feet losing purchase.
He apparently didn't like that either, so opted to no longer circle. He took off straight away from me.
I found myself airborne. For a second or so, anyway. Until I landed, on my right side towards my back, ribs first, the rest following moments later, my arm extended, hand still clenched around that damned knot at the end of the lead line. And dragged about 2 feet before Cinch noticed. And thank all that is holy, stopped... because if there was one thing the old guy who instilled all my early horse savvy in me was adamant about, you don't let go of the reins/lead line. And about an acre away, in the direction Cinch was heading, was a road.
I'd felt a crunch, not in my back, but in front, up at my sternum. "That can't be good," I thought.
I lay there for about 15 seconds waiting to see if I would be able to do anything but gasp, and then for about another minute wondering where my glasses went but unwilling to attempt to sit up and look for them, because I knew it wouldn't be fun. Then another minute or so, thinking, "I'm going to have to call the barn and have them come get me."
And that was the thought that got me sitting up.
Yup, pride cometh after the fall, sometimes. :)
It hurt like a mofo, but I managed. I rooted around and found my glasses, and used them to glare at Cinch - who was looking back at me like "WTF are you DOING??"
I managed to lead him back, and the pain was actually lessening. I was aware of it, but no stabbing pain, no shortness of breath. So I decided that if the stinker could do that, he could get some exercise lugging me around at a walk in the indoor. I saddled him up, and spent the next 2 hours with him and then grooming Tico, before I decided to suck it up and go to an emergency room, just to make sure I hadn't broken anything - there was that ominous crunch after all, and I'd had a few twinges when I moved around, picking feet and such, that were disquieting.
I didn't bother going to the one in the city where I live - since there was no aortic spurting involved, I knew I'd be there for hours before they even looked at my insurance info and collected the co-pay (been there, done that).
So I went to a regional one further west, about 1/2 hour in the other direction, got to have a doctor feel me up (did I mention it was most tender around the rib right under my right boob?), got the xray done, and the possible prognosis - no bones broken but given the crunchy feel and the location, probably did something to the costal cartilage, That's not something they can see with an xray, and it's not like there's much to be done about it - treatment basically rest, ice, don't do that again.
At the barn before I'd left, it was suggested I use arnica on it. She even had some, so I got her to spray some on my rib. On the theory "it can't hurt", I bought some on the way home, and showered, arnica-d up, and iced all night (I wake up a lot, and I'd brought up a small cooler filled with ice-packs to switch out).
Sitting up from a prone position had been extremely painful at the ER, and then at home, "I shouldn't have lain back" came to mind whenever I needed to move.
But when I got up Sunday morning, I felt only a slight twinge. Sitting up? Well, it's obvious something happened but nothing to make me rethink my actions. I kept waiting for it to get worse as I moved around, but it didn't. I went to the barn and though I didn't ride, I played with both my boys.
It wasn't as if everything was Miracle Max fixed, but it wasn't screaming pain by any stretch of the imagination. The area is tender, if I cough it's like my body says "oh, no, we are NOT going to really expel any air at all, thank you very much" and I sound like a Patrician twit only able to cough if it's a dainty, refined cough (think "heh. heh." rather than "HACK! HAAA!"), and God help me if I sneeze - those are still pretty awful.
But in general: not nearly as bad as I expected.
So, thank you arnica!
Monday, October 9, 2017
Saturday, July 1, 2017
For Lish
Sunday, June 18, 2017
This One's Cat-related
Last night I may have traumatized my cat for life.
First: I'm blind as a bat. And at night, I may as well be wearing a blindfold. If I need to get up to pee, I kind of feel my way with my bare feet and outstretched hands.
Anyway, I'd gone into the bathroom, and Eddie, as is his wont, was laying on the bathmat. We exchanged greetings. He's a talker.
When I finished and headed back to bed, he came with me. I stepped carefully and if I looked closely could see his darker shadow - he's black - stalking ahead of me.
At the side of the bed, he paused right in front of me.
I wanted to climb back in, and knowing that he's getting on in years and his former leap onto the bed now involves some claws and scrabbling, I bent over to pick him up, grabbing him front and back.
When I grabbed the back end, I felt something sort of cylindrical and a bit dry. Being an experienced cat owner I assumed a poop hadn't quite made it out the chute into the litter box.
And again, being an experienced cat owner, I tried to remove it - I could go back and wash my hands again, and with both horses and cats I am intimately familiar with animal poop.
I grabbed it, wiggled it, bent it. It seemed stuck. I flipped him over as I walked back towards the bathroom, intending to turn the light on to see what was going on.
Just before I switched the light on and at this point my eyes having somewhat adjusted to the dark to be able to see a bit, I looked down to see a little pink cat penis, now released, retreating back into its sheath.
And a very confused - though perhaps smug - cat looking up at me.
I apologized profusely, washed my hands really well, and we both went back to bed.
First: I'm blind as a bat. And at night, I may as well be wearing a blindfold. If I need to get up to pee, I kind of feel my way with my bare feet and outstretched hands.
Anyway, I'd gone into the bathroom, and Eddie, as is his wont, was laying on the bathmat. We exchanged greetings. He's a talker.
When I finished and headed back to bed, he came with me. I stepped carefully and if I looked closely could see his darker shadow - he's black - stalking ahead of me.
At the side of the bed, he paused right in front of me.
I wanted to climb back in, and knowing that he's getting on in years and his former leap onto the bed now involves some claws and scrabbling, I bent over to pick him up, grabbing him front and back.
When I grabbed the back end, I felt something sort of cylindrical and a bit dry. Being an experienced cat owner I assumed a poop hadn't quite made it out the chute into the litter box.
And again, being an experienced cat owner, I tried to remove it - I could go back and wash my hands again, and with both horses and cats I am intimately familiar with animal poop.
I grabbed it, wiggled it, bent it. It seemed stuck. I flipped him over as I walked back towards the bathroom, intending to turn the light on to see what was going on.
Just before I switched the light on and at this point my eyes having somewhat adjusted to the dark to be able to see a bit, I looked down to see a little pink cat penis, now released, retreating back into its sheath.
And a very confused - though perhaps smug - cat looking up at me.
I apologized profusely, washed my hands really well, and we both went back to bed.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
And Lest We Forget Tico
He recently had a violent reaction to mud, which normally he loves to distraction, though he prefers to bathe in it.
Cinchie, Smile!
As requested by a friend:
Being coy
Oh, ok.
Where da treats at? I got my eye on you...
Taken by one of his other human slaves
And taken a while ago - him rocking his pink plaid
Monday, April 24, 2017
Warm Up for the First Show of the Season (plus some Tico silliness)
What a fun weekend! On Saturday, we all packed up (7 horses, 4 older adults, 3 younger adults, and a kid) and trailered up to Biddeford, Maine so that we could be coached in a different venue, preparation for the NERHA show coming up Friday. It was about an hour and 40 minutes, and I swear, the barn owner's husband - he drove one of the trucks - should do stand-up. It's not like his being this funny was a surprise; he's one of my favorite people and cracks me up all the time. But by about an hour and 20 minutes into the ride, I was actually starting to worry about laughing so hard I'd pee my pants.
Anyway... my pants stayed dry, and we all used the facilities, tacked up our horses, and started.
The indoor was smaller than ours, narrower and not as long, compounded by the fact that about 1/5 of one end was blocked off with fence panels with various farm detritus behind them. Given that the idea was to try to simulate the show experience - warm up and showing both - it felt a bit daunting. We also had to make what was left into 2/3 show pen, 1/3 warm up pen, with a wall post as the line of demarcation, so it felt even smaller. I hadn't expected to feel anxious, so I was surprised it bothered me as much as it did.
Jake Masterson, the trainer, put each of us through a run, then had us break the bits down... first, spin, then discuss: how did that feel? How do you think you could have made it better? (Also: this is practice: if you need to do something here to make them wake up, do it!). Then move on to the circles... etc.
My discomfort with the size of the arena flavored how I did things, I think. We were supposed to - and needed to, given how raw the day was - work our horses in the "practice pen" area when he wasn't working one-on-one with us. The owner of the property and another lady were also riding in there, so it was busy and cramped, which made trying out some of the suggestions Jake told us to practice difficult.
Anyway, I was pretty unhappy with a few things. Jake is good about helping you work through your issues though. Still, I was getting tired, and Cinch was getting impatient and a bit pissy - one time he managed to flick the reins up while throwing his head down, with both reins landing between his ears, on a large fast circle. I got them back, but that was one for the books. :) I'd been on him for over two hours at that point though, so when that one-on-one was done, I got off, loosened his girth and brought him to a cross-tie, gave him some water, got myself lunch (he'd had hay on the trailer but we didn't bring any into the aisles) and then got back on. While I was gone, some of the other ladies were worked, while others also took a short break. My friend Angel (whose horse we thought might have navicular disease despite being young, fit, and athletic, about a year ago - it turned out he had a deep bruise that was only able to be diagnosed with MRI, he went on months long stall rest, changes in shoeing, in supplements, and finally, slowly brought back to work a few months ago) also took her horse out - though he's been back to work for a few months now, that was a long time for her to be on his back and she did not want to jeopardize the progress he's made. She's not showing at the end of the week, either, so she didn't feel a pressing need.
It was a breather both Cinch and I needed: when I went back in we worked the pattern one last time - and it certainly wasn't flawless but all the pieces were done much better, for a better whole.
Soon after, we all packed up and headed back to Dunstable. It was a long day, but it felt like we accomplished something.
Sunday's lesson, with Angel and her horse too, was outstanding. We warmed up outside because it was GORGEOUS out, and Cinch and I did perfect circles, rating down for the small slows with barely a twitch. Angel and TMan worked circles too, though she's only started doing pattern work with him again, so not quite as perfect... but pretty darn good.
Then back inside. Jake is helping me ride Cinch's sliding stop... by making Cinch do a better sliding stop. By getting him to drop his head and round up when he slides, the stop isn't as jarring... which means I don't brace for it, so we're both happy. It's still a work in progress, with me not quite getting it, so he had me run Cinch at the door, pushing him until the very last minute (or he slammed his head into the door, which was hardly likely), then sitting deep.
Well, every run at the door got his head down and his back up and back legs tucked, then I rolled back and ran him the other way and got his head down, back up, legs tucked... and it was comfortable, I wasn't bracing, and it finally is starting to click.
I took Cinch in, gave him his mango and peach coconut water (he literally drools when he sees the bowl coming out), groomed him up and put him back in his stall with carrots and an oat and honey granola bar waiting for him.
After the lesson I went out and got the Great White Wh^H^H^^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H Tico, cleaned him off (he's FINALLY starting to drop more coat!), found another tick (crap!), cleaned it up and tacked him up and we went out to the power lines. By that time it was around 4PM and other horses were being hayed, so he wasn't exactly thrilled with me.
We ambled out to the far end of the property, through the gate, and to the right, eventually angling over to the left and the power lines, to follow them back towards the pond. A dirt bike had been going out there when it was still pretty wet, and had dug up the dirt in a few places, but we walked by them without much of a lookie-loo taken.
The path along the power lines on the far end of the field, besides tending to be a bit boggy this early, is uneven. Given Tico's fetlock bone spur, we usually just amble along until the ground is less... undulating, let's say. Then I offer him the chance to take a nice canter (or gallop, if he's so inclined), heading towards the pond.
So, once the ground was flatter, I said "Whatcha think... canter?" and he jogged. I said, "Canter? That's a trot!" so he trotted faster. Eventually that worked its way into a canter. I had my phone out and was recording it (maybe I had a preomonition, since videoing our canter along the power lines seems to invite some kind of horse insanity) when we came to the churned up mud of death.
Granted, this wasn't the same churned up mud we'd already passed. And I was starting to ask him to slow down - he gets really into his canter around this part and often takes off the last 20-30 yards going to the pond (probably because the grass is really nice and green there and he lives in hope.)
So I was asking him to slow down, but wasn't actually expecting the rapid levitation and relocation about 5 feet to the left. I got it all on video, too.
Anyway, once we examined the deadly mud up close (and he tried to eat it), we moseyed on along to the pond. As we were passing the old bee hive boxes there, we startled a blue heron into flight.
Tico twitched. Perked his ears. Watched.
Jerk.
After the heron landed across the way, still on the banks of the pond, I tried to take Tico closer for a photo. He had no problem with it, of course. But there's a small but deep brook/ditch that separated us from the heron, so I couldn't get a good photo.
I took a few of the pond itself, then headed over to the other side, hoping to get closer to the heron.
We succeeded only in making him (her?) fly away again. Oh well.
So we had one last gallop in the field next to the barn, headed back (with a short stop for Tico to graze a bit - I'm sure he felt it was his due) and ended the day with a quick grooming, an oat and honey bar, and his hay waiting for him.
Anyway... my pants stayed dry, and we all used the facilities, tacked up our horses, and started.
The indoor was smaller than ours, narrower and not as long, compounded by the fact that about 1/5 of one end was blocked off with fence panels with various farm detritus behind them. Given that the idea was to try to simulate the show experience - warm up and showing both - it felt a bit daunting. We also had to make what was left into 2/3 show pen, 1/3 warm up pen, with a wall post as the line of demarcation, so it felt even smaller. I hadn't expected to feel anxious, so I was surprised it bothered me as much as it did.
Jake Masterson, the trainer, put each of us through a run, then had us break the bits down... first, spin, then discuss: how did that feel? How do you think you could have made it better? (Also: this is practice: if you need to do something here to make them wake up, do it!). Then move on to the circles... etc.
My discomfort with the size of the arena flavored how I did things, I think. We were supposed to - and needed to, given how raw the day was - work our horses in the "practice pen" area when he wasn't working one-on-one with us. The owner of the property and another lady were also riding in there, so it was busy and cramped, which made trying out some of the suggestions Jake told us to practice difficult.
Anyway, I was pretty unhappy with a few things. Jake is good about helping you work through your issues though. Still, I was getting tired, and Cinch was getting impatient and a bit pissy - one time he managed to flick the reins up while throwing his head down, with both reins landing between his ears, on a large fast circle. I got them back, but that was one for the books. :) I'd been on him for over two hours at that point though, so when that one-on-one was done, I got off, loosened his girth and brought him to a cross-tie, gave him some water, got myself lunch (he'd had hay on the trailer but we didn't bring any into the aisles) and then got back on. While I was gone, some of the other ladies were worked, while others also took a short break. My friend Angel (whose horse we thought might have navicular disease despite being young, fit, and athletic, about a year ago - it turned out he had a deep bruise that was only able to be diagnosed with MRI, he went on months long stall rest, changes in shoeing, in supplements, and finally, slowly brought back to work a few months ago) also took her horse out - though he's been back to work for a few months now, that was a long time for her to be on his back and she did not want to jeopardize the progress he's made. She's not showing at the end of the week, either, so she didn't feel a pressing need.
It was a breather both Cinch and I needed: when I went back in we worked the pattern one last time - and it certainly wasn't flawless but all the pieces were done much better, for a better whole.
Soon after, we all packed up and headed back to Dunstable. It was a long day, but it felt like we accomplished something.
Sunday's lesson, with Angel and her horse too, was outstanding. We warmed up outside because it was GORGEOUS out, and Cinch and I did perfect circles, rating down for the small slows with barely a twitch. Angel and TMan worked circles too, though she's only started doing pattern work with him again, so not quite as perfect... but pretty darn good.
Then back inside. Jake is helping me ride Cinch's sliding stop... by making Cinch do a better sliding stop. By getting him to drop his head and round up when he slides, the stop isn't as jarring... which means I don't brace for it, so we're both happy. It's still a work in progress, with me not quite getting it, so he had me run Cinch at the door, pushing him until the very last minute (or he slammed his head into the door, which was hardly likely), then sitting deep.
Well, every run at the door got his head down and his back up and back legs tucked, then I rolled back and ran him the other way and got his head down, back up, legs tucked... and it was comfortable, I wasn't bracing, and it finally is starting to click.
I took Cinch in, gave him his mango and peach coconut water (he literally drools when he sees the bowl coming out), groomed him up and put him back in his stall with carrots and an oat and honey granola bar waiting for him.
After the lesson I went out and got the Great White Wh^H^H^^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H Tico, cleaned him off (he's FINALLY starting to drop more coat!), found another tick (crap!), cleaned it up and tacked him up and we went out to the power lines. By that time it was around 4PM and other horses were being hayed, so he wasn't exactly thrilled with me.
Photos below courtesy of Elizabeth deSmet, who loves taking photos of me with my head in embarrassing places.
We ambled out to the far end of the property, through the gate, and to the right, eventually angling over to the left and the power lines, to follow them back towards the pond. A dirt bike had been going out there when it was still pretty wet, and had dug up the dirt in a few places, but we walked by them without much of a lookie-loo taken.
The path along the power lines on the far end of the field, besides tending to be a bit boggy this early, is uneven. Given Tico's fetlock bone spur, we usually just amble along until the ground is less... undulating, let's say. Then I offer him the chance to take a nice canter (or gallop, if he's so inclined), heading towards the pond.
So, once the ground was flatter, I said "Whatcha think... canter?" and he jogged. I said, "Canter? That's a trot!" so he trotted faster. Eventually that worked its way into a canter. I had my phone out and was recording it (maybe I had a preomonition, since videoing our canter along the power lines seems to invite some kind of horse insanity) when we came to the churned up mud of death.
Granted, this wasn't the same churned up mud we'd already passed. And I was starting to ask him to slow down - he gets really into his canter around this part and often takes off the last 20-30 yards going to the pond (probably because the grass is really nice and green there and he lives in hope.)
So I was asking him to slow down, but wasn't actually expecting the rapid levitation and relocation about 5 feet to the left. I got it all on video, too.
Anyway, once we examined the deadly mud up close (and he tried to eat it), we moseyed on along to the pond. As we were passing the old bee hive boxes there, we startled a blue heron into flight.
Tico twitched. Perked his ears. Watched.
Jerk.
After the heron landed across the way, still on the banks of the pond, I tried to take Tico closer for a photo. He had no problem with it, of course. But there's a small but deep brook/ditch that separated us from the heron, so I couldn't get a good photo.
Blown up from the photo, the best I could do
I took a few of the pond itself, then headed over to the other side, hoping to get closer to the heron.
I don't know where it came from, but I like the magenta rainbow...
We succeeded only in making him (her?) fly away again. Oh well.
We did see a goose taking a bath, though it flew off as we approached, too.
So we had one last gallop in the field next to the barn, headed back (with a short stop for Tico to graze a bit - I'm sure he felt it was his due) and ended the day with a quick grooming, an oat and honey bar, and his hay waiting for him.
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