Just a bit?

Long lining my bumptious boy today and on a whim, I decided to try it in his head collar rather than bridle. Why? Can't say. It's not a secret; it was just a spur of the moment decision.

Partly, I wanted to see how well he'd get on with just voice commands, and partly I'm still wondering about whether he'd be happier bitless. He's still going well in his Pee Wee, better than he has in any other bit I've tried (and I have tried a multitude!) but I have lingering thoughts about whether or not I'd be comfy with a bit in my mouth, and I think no, I probably wouldn't, so why would Max?

I brought his bridle and bit in as a back up in case we got nowhere with the headcollar , but as it turns out, I didn't need back up. Max went extremely well, and seemed to hold himself better with his mouth free of hardware.

He went really well for me, changed direction beautifully when asked, transitions up and down were superb and it's making me think I should invest in a Dually to go a bit further with this.

There are downsides to bitless too, I know, and I'm aware of them. Gentle hands are the key, whichever way you go, and relying much more on balance and seat bones than pressure from hands.

We had a few breaks for play time in between, and in the end I took everything off for a bit of loose work and then set Max free for his roll to deal with the itchiness. He's shedding so much right now, and I think that's the culprit with his grumpiness at being touched.

After our schooling session, I tied him up for a bit of grooming. This was also an experiment, because I wanted to see if his objection to grooming would disappear if he'd already worked and understood that the grooming wasn't leading to anything.

No go. He was still stroppy, swishing his tail and lifting his hind legs at me. Until I dropped the brush and dug in with my fingernails, giving him a good scratch along his back and belly. He tried to be irritated but then... no, actually quite nice, and I got the lower lip quiver instead. Great handfuls of hair dislodged themselves and blew about the yard faster than I could chase them down with the broom.

He still needed rugging because it does get quite cold and damp at night, and the sky threatens rain. He could probably cope with nothing if it was dry. Actually, he could probably cope with nothing anyway, but I've got the whole "mum being cold" thing going on. I remember it well myself, my mum telling me I had to wear a cardigan and tights when I didn't want to, because she was cold. Could never understand the logic of it back then, but I get it now.

Soon, very soon, the rug can be cleaned and stored away. The daffs are poking their heads up, my Camillia has buds about to flower, and it's almost March, so although we can definitely expect rain, I think Spring will be sprung very soon. Unless there's a cold snap.

Funny thing about the changing seasons. Although I welcome the warmer weather, and will be happy to have Max all fat and nekkid, I'm already turning my eye to the green flush of Spring grass, and thinking about the winged biters that will descend upon us. I'll stop looking for mud fever, and start looking for sweet itch and laminitis, bot flies, dry hooves and fungal plaque in ears from biting midges.

For every downside though, there is a counterpoint, and the biggest counterpoint of all is that no matter what the season or what's being thrown at us, Max is Max and therein lies my delight.

And a small postscript. I sat in the office this morning, after running to the yard to give Max his toast and marmite, take his rug off, and tell him I love him and I'd be back soon. Refilled his water bucket, got splashed and dribbled on, got my hair mussed and narrowly avoided one of the yard dogs jumping up on my work clothes with muddy paws.

Then there I was, after that happy start, sitting at my desk, working through the work that pays for it all, and I noticed a hair on the sleeve of my cardigan. Not a Max hair, but an Arizona hair. One perfect, complete, well preserved hair from the cat who has left me and left a gaping hole in my life and my heart.

I felt tears prick with the missing of him, while I felt a smile form at the memory of the having of him. One single hair that reminded me of a forgotten cuddle, when I had held that splendid cat in my arms and took as much comfort from him as I gave.