Mystic Max

My pony is psychic! It’s true! Well, I’d like it to be true so I shall choose to believe it’s true…

Convinced?

Arrived at the yard and he was just coming in from the field. I watched him as I parked up, and felt the silly grin settle into place; the silly grin that I always wear when I’m watching my boy.

Went to his box and he was muzzle deep in pony nuts (he gets a couple of handfuls of Hi Fi Lite pony nuts as a “welcome” treat). Really, he doesn’t even need that, but it’s not fair on him to see ALL The Other Horses get hearty breakfasts while he gets nothing at all.

I took him his toast and marmite, and although interested, he was not eager. I thought something about him wasn’t quite right. He just didn’t seem himself. Nothing obviously wrong, just a bit subdued. I decided to try again with the toast later, when he wasn’t distracted by pony nuts and maybe wishing he had two mouths so he could eat both offerings at the same time.

Went back about half an hour later, and yes, he was perfectly happy to wolf down his marmite toast – he doesn’t care if the toast is cold.

Finished the yard and as it was hammering it down with rain and people were turning up to use the indoor school, I decided to just whip him in there fast for a bit of in-hand work, just brushing up on our transitions and such.

Figured we’d probably have to share the school, and I didn’t want to long line him in only half the school, so in hand seemed less of a fiddle and would give me a bit more control if he got distracted by The Other Horses.

We started off sharing with Turbo, and after a break, shared with Mini Me, the hack-er-ney. Both high stepping driving ponies, and Max watched them with interest and just a pinch of disbelief.

"Hey, high-stepper! Why so prancey? You got midges?"

Max went really well, listened, responded. Was a little eager to trot REALLY FAST (watching Mini Me) but I got him collected back, more so I could keep up with him than anything else.

He was moving fine, and I had no cause for concern.

When Mini Me left, I knew I had only minutes before we'd have company again, so decided to quickly take Max off the lead rope and canter him on both reins. Again, very eager, went off no trouble, did the downward transitions beautifully and we were done. Only about 25 minutes, but I still had a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right with him, so that seemed about enough.

Back in his box, and we tried the carrot stretches. He seemed stiff bending to his right, and had lots of trouble getting his head very far in his “bow” stretch.

On the bends to the left, he couldn’t get back to his flank at all. He wouldn’t even try. He had the confused eyes that I recognise… I think the confused eyes might be frustration that we’re not communicating. Maybe I’m making too much of that, but there’s a definite look he gets when I’m the one who isn’t “getting it”.

For him not to be trying to get his carrot had me concerned. The boy is a martyr to his belly, and he would stampede over his own mum for carrots.

Big sigh, and big, watery eyes looking back at me. Like the cat from Shrek.

“Can you bring it closer, mum?”

“Are you stiff, Max? Are you sore?”

“Dunno. “

“Are you hurt?”

“Dunno… Can you bring the carrot closer?”

“Will you try again for me if I hold it closer for you? I’m trying to see what’s wrong.”

Eventually he got his carrots for pretty half arsed stretches. I leaned back against the wall and wondered, worry hat in place.

Max returned to his hay and I moved forward again to have a feel of his usual trouble spots. Then I decided to do a bit of reiki, because it was just so obvious to me that something was troubling him.

He had some quite cool spots around his stifles, and his heart and chest were really warm, his neck, hot.

So I was assessing… I kept feeling with my hands, and getting an idea of a general malaise from him, like yes, a bit stiff and sore, but a bit off colour too. Nothing serious, just “blah”.

I got to his forehead, and placed one hand in the centre, and one under his jaw. Another sigh, and he leaned into me, just taking what was on offer, and what I was offering him was love and reassurance. He had stopped eating, stopped chewing, though he had some hay in his mouth, and stood really still. I put my head against his, and he twitched his ears at me, as if he was listening.

“I’ll look after you Max, don’t worry. Now tell me what’s wrong.” I didn’t say it, I thought it.

And then he did.

He leaned a little harder, and then pulled back and turned so we had eye contact. I took my hands away from him because it felt like I should. I hunkered down on the straw bank and looked up at him, and he lowered his head down to mine and blew softly against my face and then I got a really clear picture in my head…

A message or a memory?

I saw myself the day before, holding Max, but it was from Max’s perspective: Not my view of Max as I held him, but Max’s view of me holding him. And then eureka! In walked the vet and gave him his flu/tet jab in the neck.

And there we have it. His neck is sore, I have no doubt, because of the jab. He’s feeling off and a bit stiff because that often happens after flu jabs for us, too.

Phew!

Of course, I’m not taking that as the definitive answer, and I’ll be looking at him closely tomorrow. He’s not off his food, he’s not moving badly, so I know he’s basically OK, just not himself. And that the jab caused it makes perfect sense and filled me with such relief.

I stood again and said out loud, “You’ll feel better tomorrow sweetpea. Thanks for explaining.”

Another sigh, and then he just tucked his big head into my chest for a bit and I gave him an ear scratch, then a polo.

Yes, of course I may have remembered about the jab all on my own, with or without the reiki and direct questioning. Because Max surely couldn’t be so in tune with me that he could tell me himself, right? Of course not! What horse could possibly do that? They’re just “dumb” animals after all, with a job to do and nothing more.

However it happened, whether it was my concentrating that retrieved a very recent but forgotten event, or whether Max helped is conjecture. There will be those who have no trouble believing it, those who are sceptical but would like to believe it, and those who snort and call it sentimental claptrap with no basis in reality.

I can ably argue all three points of view, but between Max and I, I think he and I know what happened this morning: I asked, he answered, I listened.

That’s all that matters.