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Weekly Lesson Neep
May. 22nd, 2004 05:37 pmThis morning started Too Freaking Early with Dobie poo on the carpet--second day in a row. She may have to start staying out at night and in during the day. She never poops in the house in the daytime.
Sigh.
Lessons started moderately early and went on for a while. GladysAnn came down from Phoenix to try a ride on a Lipizzan, had a longe lesson on Capria. She is doomed, I tell you. Doomed. Between Pooka seducing her with Pluto Love Vibes and Capria seducing her with the famous afterburners, well, it's all over there, I think. "I never rode a horse with such instant responses! You breathe, she acts! It's so amazing!" (Badger, she has a Morgan mare--little, black, must ask her to give me breeding names again. She's Very well bred.)
Ayup. Got a new victim there.
Keed, aged nine years, has completely changed his shape in the past week. He is now a Hatrack. This means growth phase, as in, we're not done yet, folks. He's headed up a smitch and out a lot, from the looks. Unlike previous periods of Hatrackitude, he hasn't ended up with too-short stifle ligaments, so can use his back end. This is good for his Teacher Torture, at which he did very well this morning, and he was quite pleased with himself.
Pooka was in spring mode, as he's been most of the time recently. He was wrapping himself around me during grooming and tacking up. Once turned loose, he had a lot of 'tude to work out. I called out, "Get the bucks out, Pook!" He's an obedient boy. He did exactly as I told him. Rodeo city. Even Joni, who has seen some of his more exciting moments, was wide-eyed. That boy has some buck in him. (Just ask my palette of bruises from last week.)
He was lovely for his ride, and we were working on me reverting to old bad habits as usual--letting go the outside rein, pulling on the inside rein, getting wild veers and Not Going Where I Want To Go. We were really getting it, really starting to figure it out, when...catch-stumble-CLUNK! Off came the second shoe in as many lesson days. This was my fault. I should have put bell boots on him. Bad, bad, bad.
As great good luck would have it, just after I came back from a very nice lunch at the City Grill, I looked out and there was a trailer in the yard, and a somewhat villainous-looking man leading my stallion toward it. It was Curt the Perfect Shoer, who had been hauling horses down to Rio Rico. He got my phone message and swung by, and put the shoe back on. He also volunteered to take the horse off my hands. Heh. Right, said I.
Curt said Pook pulled the shoe off in a really interesting way: reached around from behind and caught it in front and to the side. (Usually the back toe catches the heel of the front shoe and rips it off.) Consequence of horse whose back end is currently considerably bigger than his front, with a lot more rear-wheel drive than he knows what to do with, getting his legs tangled up and not getting his front feet out of the way in time. He'll grow out of it, and we can help. Meanwhile, boots. Yes.
Sigh.
Lessons started moderately early and went on for a while. GladysAnn came down from Phoenix to try a ride on a Lipizzan, had a longe lesson on Capria. She is doomed, I tell you. Doomed. Between Pooka seducing her with Pluto Love Vibes and Capria seducing her with the famous afterburners, well, it's all over there, I think. "I never rode a horse with such instant responses! You breathe, she acts! It's so amazing!" (Badger, she has a Morgan mare--little, black, must ask her to give me breeding names again. She's Very well bred.)
Ayup. Got a new victim there.
Keed, aged nine years, has completely changed his shape in the past week. He is now a Hatrack. This means growth phase, as in, we're not done yet, folks. He's headed up a smitch and out a lot, from the looks. Unlike previous periods of Hatrackitude, he hasn't ended up with too-short stifle ligaments, so can use his back end. This is good for his Teacher Torture, at which he did very well this morning, and he was quite pleased with himself.
Pooka was in spring mode, as he's been most of the time recently. He was wrapping himself around me during grooming and tacking up. Once turned loose, he had a lot of 'tude to work out. I called out, "Get the bucks out, Pook!" He's an obedient boy. He did exactly as I told him. Rodeo city. Even Joni, who has seen some of his more exciting moments, was wide-eyed. That boy has some buck in him. (Just ask my palette of bruises from last week.)
He was lovely for his ride, and we were working on me reverting to old bad habits as usual--letting go the outside rein, pulling on the inside rein, getting wild veers and Not Going Where I Want To Go. We were really getting it, really starting to figure it out, when...catch-stumble-CLUNK! Off came the second shoe in as many lesson days. This was my fault. I should have put bell boots on him. Bad, bad, bad.
As great good luck would have it, just after I came back from a very nice lunch at the City Grill, I looked out and there was a trailer in the yard, and a somewhat villainous-looking man leading my stallion toward it. It was Curt the Perfect Shoer, who had been hauling horses down to Rio Rico. He got my phone message and swung by, and put the shoe back on. He also volunteered to take the horse off my hands. Heh. Right, said I.
Curt said Pook pulled the shoe off in a really interesting way: reached around from behind and caught it in front and to the side. (Usually the back toe catches the heel of the front shoe and rips it off.) Consequence of horse whose back end is currently considerably bigger than his front, with a lot more rear-wheel drive than he knows what to do with, getting his legs tangled up and not getting his front feet out of the way in time. He'll grow out of it, and we can help. Meanwhile, boots. Yes.
