Some Most mornings it hurts to get out of bed.

The past two Thursday nights, Jigs and I attended practice sessions for barrels and poles. We trotted sedately around them saving a light canter for the ‘run’ to the finish. I had a blast. Jigs couldn’t understand why we couldn’t gallop the patterns.

After all, the young ones ran through at a gallop, using the indoor walls to stop.  Jigs made it clear he wouldn’t mind that.

Yesterday Jigs and I were warming up at Versatility and he tripped at the trot. He went down on both front knees, nearly somersaulting with me on his back. He had to kick into a lope to get righted. I stayed on but, I admit it, it frightened me. I’m still wondering if I looked down and caused him to drop his shoulder.

I spent twenty minutes pestering everyone whether he was ‘off.’ He wasn’t, and when I asked for a lope he leaped into a fast canter. It felt like he was going to  buck but it wasn’t a buck. He really can move off when he gets his hind end under him.

We managed a solid 2:28 through the obstacles- enough for 4^th place.. It’s as fast as we can go at a trot.

The ‘pros’ go through the course at a canter, their horses stopping, high headed, open mouthed with frustration at having to stop.

I really don’t want to put Jigs through that, but a soft lope and quick stop would be okay. A bit faster would be better. But not too fast.

I’m getting old. My body is no longer able to hold its own. I worry about breaking. So we go slowly and T-R-O-T.

Poor Jigs. He really wants to go more than a
bit faster.

Getting old really sucks.

Let me rephrase that-  I am in love with my horse.

He occupies 75% of my brain cells and is never far from my thoughts.

Now I know it is unrequited love- horses can’t love in human terms.

But when he greets me with a nicker as he jogs over to the gate; it feels like love.

Yes, I know he’s really looking for a treat. (Most of the time there is one in my pocket.)

I am a realist.

On the trail he takes care of me the way he takes care of the herd. He is the horse the other horses choose to follow because he is so sensible.

Take yesterday’s trail ride as an example, it was snowing fairly hard. The trail was covered by 3 inches of light fluff, the kind that squeaks under foot. The footing beneath the snow was completely concealed. We got to a point where there was a plywood bridge and Jigs REFUSED to step forward.

I kicked. Nothing. I kicked again. Still Nothing. “Come on Jigs,” I pleaded as I slapped his but with the trail latigos. He backed up a step.

With a big sigh, I got down to lead him and the other horses with us over it.

My foot touched ground and went out from under me.

It was pure ice.

I went down on my right knee pushing Jigs sideways. He slipped but managed to slide away from me.

It could have been a disaster.

This was a part of the trail which is not known for water.

Jigs just knew.

We bushwhacked around the bridge.

Elle the pony followed him and we made it in one piece. Willow insisted on going a different way and fell through ice scraping the skin off both shins. Poor thing.

On the way back we cut across the water line road letting Jigs pick his way. He did this by sniffing along the ground to ‘nose’ the best way forward. Did he smell ice? Water?

There were times he chose a way I thought was potentially slippery but wasn’t.

Not sure how he did it.

I’d like to say his was the best route, but he didn’t see the two trees fallen across the road further down. I did. I should have forced him to go the blue trail, but I felt I owed a decision to him.

I’ve been thinking about this…. As partners we should complement each others strengths and weaknesses. He knew the bridge was too icy to be safe and let me know by balking. I saw the trees; he didn’t. In a way I let him down by not making him go a different way.

But I trusted him to keep us safe and go around the fallen trees.

And he did.

How could I not be in love with Jigs?

Today was, unusually warm (hit 50 at one point) and the sun was bright. Since we couldn’t hit the trails together, I hand walked Jigs down the street, hoping the pavement would speed along his recovery.

He seemed to enjoy our meandering, staying respectfully behind me and stopping when I stopped. Not that I would expect anything less. It’s just that he is so easy going. I know not all horses are and I appreciate him.

The one thing that perplexes me is where Jigs’ sweet spot is. You know that one spot where horses love to be rubbed /scratched? It puts them into ecstasy.

Even Pepper had one. If you scratched his withers he would stretch his neck, tilt his head into a nod and curl his lips. He entered a different zone.

It was the only time Pepper acted like he liked me.

Jigs does not seem to have a spot like that.

Oh sure, he enjoys an occasional a scratch behind his ear. After a sweaty ride, he lets me rub on the side of his nose because it itches- if I don’t do it, he’ll rub it on the fence himself- but there is no place that sends him to ecstasy.

I got to thinking about it as we walked.

Strange.  He’s such a gregarious creature.

Jigs’ personality is as bright as his coat in the summer sun.  He enjoys playing jokes on the humans at the barn. What fun to walk through the aisle and pull various halters and lead ropes off the stall doors then watch the humans pick them up? Is that Apple someone’s lunch? Not anymore.

He is easy with the babies and toddlers, always careful not to be overbearing.

He loves to play tag  and is gentle with the kids.

His heart is large and generous, funny and trusting.

Maybe that is it!

His sweet spot!

It’s his heart!

My Hoof Hurts

Jigs has an abscess.

I just returned from the barn from soaking and wrapping it. He doesn’t want to move. I probably should have turned him out, but he really seemed to want to stay in his stall.

The call came early morning in the midst of scrubbing the dining room in preparation for tomorrow’s Christmas meal.

“Jig’s was lame when we turned him out this morning” the voice said. My throat caught.

An abscess in December? Not likely, I thought. “I’ll be right there.”

Jigs was picking at his hay when I got to the barn. He turned to greet me but stopped when he put weight on his right foreleg. His eyes were large and, pardon the anthropomorphizing, sorrowful, pleading.

There was swelling above his fetlock. None of his past abscesses had swelling.

I was alarmed. A few weeks ago his right hind leg had some swelling but no lameness. Over the phone, the Vet told me not to worry. “He probably banged it. Call me if it gets worse and I’ll come out.” (She’s known me long enough to know I panic easily.)

As I felt Jig’s fetlock, all kinds of visions danced through my head- not one of them contained a sugar plum fairy.

Emergency visits are expensive, especially the day before Christmas.

I called without hesitation; her associate was on duty. “Please come,” I whined.

She examined his leg. There was swelling behind and above his fetlock. His hoof was warm and there was a digital pulse. She got the hoof tester out.

“Abscess.” She concluded. I’m sure, there was an ‘I told you so’ in her thoughts.

I asked about testing for Lyme’s. After all, this was his second time in as many weeks he had swelling. She looked at his hind leg where there was still a bit of a bump. “Broken blood vessel,” she tusked, “he must have whacked it– see it all the time. Nothing to be concerned about.”

No need for a Lyme’s test.

So today I have been faithfully soaking, diapering, and duct-taping his hoof. I will continue this ritual until the abscess pops and drains.

Jigs’ hooves are hard, healthy, so like his other abscesses, the Vet said it will work its way out the coronary band.

“Be patient.”

I will wrap and wait for as long as it takes. I would do just about anything for Jigs.

Jigs is the horse I waited my whole life for.

Granted, he wasn’t the one I was looking for, rather he presented himself to me as big as life and as red as a fox a week after Pepper was euthanized.

I hadn’t intended to get another horse so quickly. (And I never liked sorrels or chestnuts.) But there he was, J-I-G-S. How could I not take him home?

As a kid I dreamed of being the one rider for a magnificent, ebony horse. What girl didn’t, after reading every Black Stallion book 7 times?

Jigs is certainly not Ebony, and, if only Alec could ride The Black, anyone can ride Jigs.

He’s calm and careful. It takes a lot to rattle him. Often he is lazy, so he’s not always easy to ride. He hates ring work. But he loves to have a job, to play games. I suspect he really enjoyed chasing cows  last week.

I am blessed to have him in my life.

Christmas morning, I will gladly get up early, pull on my muck boots, and head to the barn to soak, wrap, and duct tape Jigs’ hoof.

I will even make him a bit of warm mash for a Christmas treat.

And I am so relieved, it is just an abscess!

The barn was quiet and cold tonight. I could hear the horses moving slowly behind the gate as they moved their hay around to get the best piece. When I turned the light out I could hear Jigs sigh from his stall.

All was at peace. I felt blessed.

Merry Christmas

Jigs LOVED it!

There was no fear of the adolescent critters they used for the beginner penning clinics. He walked right into them and once he figured out that I WANTED him to chase them, he was on it!

No Fear

We both had fun. We had a great instructors with Helen and Violet who had done this before and showed us what to do. (Thank you!)

Jigs and Violet Moving the Cows

This was the reason we took lessons this summer.

Both Jigs and I are a stronger. Our turns are more nimble. I am more centered when he moves out or to the side.

I’m more confident; he’s more confident in me.

We trust each other. (Do everyone else’s horses doze with them on their backs when standing still?)

After the clinic more than one person commented to me about Jig’s having shown some ‘cow sense.’

But as wonderful as it was for Jigs and me, Jigs’ barn mate Willow impressed all of us. She’s a 20 something Arab/Quarter cross who has been called ‘spooky’ by some.  She was a last minute addition to the day when one of our party canceled.

Alyssa was skeptical about coming.

She didn’t need to be.

Willow’s quarter horse blood surfaced in a big way!

Willow and Angel

Willow and her partner, Angel, got the cow thing right away. When they told the cows to move; they moved.

Angel and Will getting the cow with Jigs providing advice

Then again might just be a bossy mare thing…  after all, they have had lots of practice moving CJ around the field!

It’s quite strange to be in your 5o’s and have your mother scold you for this.

I’m no longer allowed to come in the house with boots on.

Can’t say that I blame her.

(This was after rinsing them off)

Jigs’ left hind is slightly swollen from his pastern to just below his hock. It is barely noticeable and he’s not lame. He acts the same as always.

I thought it looked funny last night but with all the mud and dark, it was hard to tell. The morning light made it more noticeable.

I’ve been hosing it with cold water. He got some bute and a homeopathic remedy. It’s not serious enough to call the vet, though I was tempted. Past experience tells me she would tell me to do what I am already doing, minus the homeopathic piece. If it gets worse tomorrow, I will call her.

We walked the trail loop this afternoon and it seem to lessen the swelling. He’s moving fine.

Tomorrow’s plan was to trailer over to Douglas State Forest to ride the trunk trail. We were hoping it would be drier. I’ll wait and see how he is in the morning….

The cow clinic is next weekend. I’m really hoping we won’t miss it. It’s what we’ve been working toward since June……

The real reason?  I just wasn’t up for the conversation about the draw reins.

Am I a coward?

Perhaps.

But the instructor knows a lot more than me.  She’s a successful instructor and well known in the area for Western Pleasure.

I do like her. She has taught me a lot and I respect that. There may come a time when Jigs and I are ready for lessons again.

But I do know what feels right for Jigs and me and that is to learn collection without heavy aids.

It will take a long time. But we are in no hurry.

Last night Jigs hung out by the barn gate looking for attention. He had a quick grooming. He had eaten. But there were humans, even the small ones, still in the barn. He wanted to be with them.

When the humans ignored him, he reached into the barn and grabbed one of the blankets off the stall door and shook it.

The humans all stopped and looked at him.

I swear, he was smiling underneath the blanket hanging from his mouth.

In fairness to Jigs and the instructor, I haven’t had much practice time in the evenings because of work. But Jigs has been getting a bit of riding time without me. One of the kids have been hacking around with him. It’s been good for both of them.

When I arrived at 4:30 Thursday afternoon to get Jigs for our riding lesson, I was rushed. I was late because I had forgotten to get gas in the AM. Not a good start.

Jig was more girthy than usual getting tacked up, which I do before loading him since it is dark early now.

When we got to the lesson, I parked behind the second indoor where we’ve been riding. The trailer was a bit at an angle, but nothing major. Jigs did not like it and did something he had never done before- he jumped off the trailer. I had to grab him. We were too close to our barn and I was afraid he would take off home.

He was wound tighter than I’d ever seen him.

When we got in the area, he was full of himself. They were set up for a trail class on the weekend and the obstacles were decorated with plastic pinsetters and Christmas decorations. Lots of foil and wrapping paper.

Jigs was not having any of it.

This is a horse who finished third in his last versatility with Halloween decorations and flashing lights.

Not a good start to the night.

He refused to step near the pile of wrapped boxes and ribbons. He acted like the mailbox was going to eat him and jumped back from it letting out a loud fart. “It wasn’t me” I said laughing but perplexed.

Everyone ignored me.

We trotted around but he refused to collect. The instructor decided to try draw reins.

I was now too nerved up to think straight and I let her put them on.

It was hard on Jigs. It was hard on me.

He got his head down, but it was not comfortable for either of us.

Jigs was tucking but didn’t feel collected.

By the time the lesson was over, Jigs was dripping. I was a ball of nerves.

It just didn’t feel right.

Someone asked me if it was the first time in draw reins. I nodded. She said, the first time is the worst. “It gets better.”

I wasn’t thinking clearly and just nodded again, not knowing what else to say.

When we got out to the trailer, Jigs was so upset he flat refused to load. After twenty minutes, I had to get the instructor to walk behind him so he would load. He got on but was shaking.

I spent the next day thinking hard. Was putting Jigs through this worth it? I want a partnership where we communicate. The draw reins felt like I was forcing him harder than he and I were ready. It felt wrong.

I contacted a friend who shows/trains jumpers and  has a dressage background. I trust her.

She offered to come out and ride Jigs.

After a few minutes riding him she said, he’s not ready for draw reins. She took time to show me how to collect him with reins and leg.

We worked for a while so he could get used to the way I was asking him.

He started get it for four or five steps.

He can get it without draw reins.

She said they have their place. She uses them when it is appropriate. But this was not the way to teach Jigs or me to collect.

It takes a long time. Jigs is 9. So it will take a little longer. His muscles need retraining.

She said it is like learning a new yoga move. It takes time for your muscles to learn. They ache while they are learning.

We are not in a rush.

Jigs is my partner, my friend. I don’t want to lose the trust we have created.

This week will be my last lesson for a while. I’m going to take my friend’s advice and work slowly, thirty minutes twice a week to teach him and me to collect.

We’re going back to having fun the rest of the week.

I’m confident Jigs and I will get there. We have time.

There are no quick fixes.

Jigs was slow. Jigs was deliberate. He made Caleb work to get it done.

With me he was just Jigs. We moved fluid and placed in all four classes. It felt wonderful after all the maudlin boo hooing I’ve been doing of late.

Someone came up to me and said, “A horse like yours is woth his weight in gold.”

I was beaming. Sometimes we just don’t realize what is in front of us.  We don’t realize it might be enough. Better than enough.

Jigs got an extra apple!

He may also get a new saddle- one that Caleb and Zachary can learn to ride on.

Hate that it was dark at 4:30 today.

Hate that I’ve been sniveling and whiny- a maudlin mess the past few weeks.

Hate that I wimped out and canceled our riding lesson.

Okay, I’m not all that sorry about the riding lesson. I really didn’t want to mess with the trailer in the dark in the rain after getting the trailer stuck in the mud a few weeks ago. And the truth is, I’m not sure I can learn without practice time.  I should have stopped the lessons a few weeks ago before the time change.

I’ve been second guessing myself of late about everything thing. My riding ability is just one of a list of many.

But it surfaces more vehemently because it’s important to me. And it’s not really about riding; it’s about being a partner with another being. To flow together in a single purpose with grace and selflessness is akin to reaching nirvana. I want to feel that continuous motion of mind and body.

Watching the professionals do it is deceiving. It looks easy.

But the reality of achieving it is different.

It’s hard.

It takes muscle, guts, skill, and softness. You must communicate with a creature whose consciousness is unlike your own.

The horse has its own mind; its own desire. One that likely doesn’t involve rocking horse loping or lead changes. Someone told me a while ago, “The horse just wants to be left alone to eat and sleep.”

Our human will keeps them from that. We interfere with their instincts.

And yet, we bond with our equine partners. We find ways to connect. When it happens, it’s like nothing else in the world.

I have felt brief flashes of it with Jigs. More than any other horse I’ve lived with. It’s addictive, you want more.

I think taking a break from the lesson tonight was good for both of us. I got to fuss over him. And we got to hang with no pressure to push or perform.

The dark doesn’t really matter when it is just two friends hanging out after work, watching the light drizzle fall lazily through the night.