This morning when I tried to access the BBC local weather page on the internet, I got an error message. Would that it had been true, and the error had been that this relentless rain and chill was in fact a mistake, and sunshine was on the way.
Perhaps the BBC weather page, knowing how very foul today was going to be, just didn’t have the heart to provide a forecast?
On days like this, everything takes longer, everything is filthier and I found myself just wanting to stop and cry because it was so unpleasant, despite being surrounded by the lovely neds.
Home now, my soaking wet gear (waterproof trousers, and two waterproof coats, switched when the first one became saturated) are drying in the front hall, dreary puddles forming beneath them as they drip. The whole house probably smells of wet horse – I wouldn’t notice if it did though, so I am unconcerned.
A hot bath, a warming bowl of soup, but no, I can’t shake off the chill! And poor Max has to venture out there again in a couple of hours, to stand in his soggy field with his raincoat on. He won’t mind it nearly as much as I did, though. Plenty of grass to eat and in fact, now that my yard work is done, it looks like the sky has finally rained itself out.
Wednesday 30 April 2008
Tuesday 29 April 2008
You watchy, I no droppy!
Max is getting fed up with being watched intently every time he has a wee. I caught him at it again this morning, up on his tiptoes, and I was in there like a shot, hunkered down to see if he was dropping. He wasn't, but again, I was pleased (can't believe I'm typing these words) with the force and flow of his wee. Definitely an improvement.
I went back to the yard after work with some trepidation, as I'd decided that today I really must give him a clean. It's been over a week, and he was getting a little crusty. Thought I might need full body armour, or at least my riding hat just in case he went loopy on me.
Approached his box in readiness. His plastic bucket that contains his cloth, sponge, and boiling water that has been allowed to cool, his smaller container which holds aloe vera gel, and his grooming kit.
We got down to a bit of brushing and hoof picking, and then I popped the lid on his wash container. Max clocked that and immediately turned and walked back to his feed bowl and poked his nose in to indicate a diversion was in order.
Happily, I had come prepared! A chopped apple, a chopped carrot and a handful of ponynuts was ready to distract him as I took my first foray into his post-op nethers clean up.
Max munched happily and I got down to business. You'd have to be me to really appreciate the difference in this situation. I've been cleaning Max's undercarriage, day in/day out, for nearly two years now. Never could I leave him for over a week without my tender ministrations, and sometimes it was a pretty intense chore.
Today was a doddle. Two very quick swipes with a warm, saturated cloth, a slight go at what I first perceived to be a crusty line at the entrance of his sheath (turned out to be a row of stitches! Ouch! Leave it alone, don't touch!) and then some warmed aloe vera gel to soothe and protect, and we were done. He was nowhere near finished his apple/carrot/pony nut treat and I was already done and standing there with an Extra Strong mint in hand as his prize for being a good boy.
So yes, no droppy, but despite that, a vast improvement on the state of Max's boy bits. I have just sent a note to the surgeon to thank him, left a bottle of wine for the YO to thank her for being such a steadying hand and recovery drug monitor, and I am gleeful at the fact that despite the worry, we have turned a corner and the operation I put Max through has to be deemed a success.
The icing on the cake? After all that, I stood outside of Max's box ready to prepare him for his field. Another filthy, rainy, windy day here in Hampshire, and a bit chilly, too.
Do you want your rug, Max?
Emphatic head nod. Like he knows what I'm asking. Even better because he did it in front of an awed audience: "It's like he understands you when you talk to him!"
Then a walk to his field. Field mate hollered, Max felt disinclined to reply. I asked him to approach the horsebox he'd been transported in and touch it. No problem there, touched it twice in case I hadn't been watching carefully the first time.
My Max is back. If you could see the smile on my face!
Sunday 27 April 2008
Soothed by cow parsley and sticky grass
Max's two favourite snatch and run treats are appearing again, and they helped immensely with today's first step back into his routine. The Ent and I gave him a grooming session and then took him for a walk in hand, first around the yard, and then up the lane to the pond field and back.
He is definitely more wary of the world than he has been, but it was a good effort. He walked very well, was fairly attentive, a little less obedient but still within the range of acceptable behaviour, and a little graze of his favourites at the end of his adventure proved a welcome reward.
He is less swollen today; I'd say about half the size of yesterday's swelling. This is very encouraging. Just a little swelling to go, and he'll be back to normal.
Max rewarded us by having a wee as soon as we put him back in his stable. Much to his chagrin, he had two of us crouching by his sides having a good ol' look at what was going on.
"How rude!"
Sadly, no sign of his timid member. Yet. But there is some good news. Both the Ent and I think that he is relieving himself more freely and with more force. I think with the ledge of fibrous tissue gone, the path is clear for better flow (ahem). So although we haven't seen the full benefits of the surgery yet, we're definitely beginning to an see improvement, and that makes us very happy; sad pony watchers that we are.
He is definitely more wary of the world than he has been, but it was a good effort. He walked very well, was fairly attentive, a little less obedient but still within the range of acceptable behaviour, and a little graze of his favourites at the end of his adventure proved a welcome reward.
He is less swollen today; I'd say about half the size of yesterday's swelling. This is very encouraging. Just a little swelling to go, and he'll be back to normal.
Max rewarded us by having a wee as soon as we put him back in his stable. Much to his chagrin, he had two of us crouching by his sides having a good ol' look at what was going on.
"How rude!"
Sadly, no sign of his timid member. Yet. But there is some good news. Both the Ent and I think that he is relieving himself more freely and with more force. I think with the ledge of fibrous tissue gone, the path is clear for better flow (ahem). So although we haven't seen the full benefits of the surgery yet, we're definitely beginning to an see improvement, and that makes us very happy; sad pony watchers that we are.
Friday 25 April 2008
Cheeky chappy
He's back to his ol' self. What a relief! Picking at my shirt, demanding attention, bolshy and forward, just how I like him!
I got the surgeon's report through the post today. I don't pretend to understand it all, but what he had was a ventral fold of tissue across the sheath.
The report was full of horrifying details about incisions and sutures, skin defects, multiple bleeding points and "dead space".
The final kick in the teeth?
"Max recovered well from anaesthesia with the aid of a rope assisted system."
Oh my boy! My boy! Winched on a rope assisted system. I am horrified, but he was too doped to know, and it is behind us now. And it actually isn't as horrifying as it sounds - one rope on his headcollar and one on his tail, so that when he starts to scramble up, he can be helped to maintain his balance and keep his footing. He's not dangled in a harness on a pulley syste, or anything.
I am beginning to think (to know in my knowing place) that Max and I will have to backtrack a bit and build his confidence again.
If we do go out for a walk on Sunday, I think I have to be prepared for a visit from the old Max who didn't like to step out of his comfort zone. I have no problem with that, and will build him up again slowly and patiently. We are in no rush.
Today, when I took him to his field after his big scratch session, he followed me happily until we got in sight of the field and the horsebox he'd been transported in. He really tensed up and started blowing loudly, head right up on high alert. I am so unaccustomed to seeing that behaviour in him, it took me a little by surprise, though I didn't show it.
His field mate wasn't at the gate waiting for us, and that seemed to be the problem. Max hollered for him, field mate hollered back and thundering hooves followed, as field mate ran to the gate to greet us. Max saw him, relaxed and moved on again.
He has not worried about being alone before, and it's been months since he has showed anxiety like that, unless there was something obvious to be anxious about. Even then, I could lead him through it (even ridden) but today that was not an option.
The good news is that once in, and we'd said our goodbyes, Max had a little trot and he looked quite comfortable and at ease with the pace.
Ah well. Clicker training will get us through, I have complete faith in that.
I got the surgeon's report through the post today. I don't pretend to understand it all, but what he had was a ventral fold of tissue across the sheath.
The report was full of horrifying details about incisions and sutures, skin defects, multiple bleeding points and "dead space".
The final kick in the teeth?
"Max recovered well from anaesthesia with the aid of a rope assisted system."
Oh my boy! My boy! Winched on a rope assisted system. I am horrified, but he was too doped to know, and it is behind us now. And it actually isn't as horrifying as it sounds - one rope on his headcollar and one on his tail, so that when he starts to scramble up, he can be helped to maintain his balance and keep his footing. He's not dangled in a harness on a pulley syste, or anything.
I am beginning to think (to know in my knowing place) that Max and I will have to backtrack a bit and build his confidence again.
If we do go out for a walk on Sunday, I think I have to be prepared for a visit from the old Max who didn't like to step out of his comfort zone. I have no problem with that, and will build him up again slowly and patiently. We are in no rush.
Today, when I took him to his field after his big scratch session, he followed me happily until we got in sight of the field and the horsebox he'd been transported in. He really tensed up and started blowing loudly, head right up on high alert. I am so unaccustomed to seeing that behaviour in him, it took me a little by surprise, though I didn't show it.
His field mate wasn't at the gate waiting for us, and that seemed to be the problem. Max hollered for him, field mate hollered back and thundering hooves followed, as field mate ran to the gate to greet us. Max saw him, relaxed and moved on again.
He has not worried about being alone before, and it's been months since he has showed anxiety like that, unless there was something obvious to be anxious about. Even then, I could lead him through it (even ridden) but today that was not an option.
The good news is that once in, and we'd said our goodbyes, Max had a little trot and he looked quite comfortable and at ease with the pace.
Ah well. Clicker training will get us through, I have complete faith in that.
Thursday 24 April 2008
The road to recovery is paved with anxiety
This morning I didn't have yard work, but I went to the yard early to check on Max. Who wouldn't?
I approached his box and saw that he was lying down. One look told me he wasn't quite right. He was awake, but seemed not quite there. I called his name three times before he looked up at me. No whuffle.
I walked in and knelt by his head. "All right, Max?" Tiny head nod.
"Do you want some toast and marmite?"
I proffered his breakfast treat and he sniffed, became a little more animated, and happily ate each little strip I broke off for him, chewing thoughtfully before offering his head for another bit to chew on. I got up and checked his feed bowl, and it was licked clean. No problem with his appetite. I knelt again by his head and looked intently. Eyes clear, nose clear, breathing OK.
No real signs of anything wrong, he just seemed subdued. Max dialled down is not something I'm accustomed to, nor do I like to see it.
Had to leave him for work, but told him I'd be back in a few hours and would have a better look then.
Went out onto the yard and asked if he'd come in from the field all right. Yes, he'd been fine. So I just asked that they keep an eye on him until my return, and to not hesitate to call the vet if anything looked amiss. Vet first, then me.
When I got back, I parked up and walked round to his side of the yard, relieved to see his head now peeking over the box, as I would expect. He must have heard me coming.
He was absolutely fine. I spent about an hour with him. Gave him his drug laced lunch, fed him a juicy mango (which he loved) and then spent ages scratching his back and side for him to remove the loose hair and dirt, while he went into blissful stretches, lip quivers, and occasionally pointed with his nose to the place he wanted me to scratch next.
He was not interested in being brushed at all, but digging in with my fingernails was definitely welcome. The box was full of loose hair flying about, and Max was full of head nods and shakes, asking for kisses and following directions for backing up and moving sideways like a pro.
Finally I picked his feet out and by doing so got a chance to have a good look at his undercarriage. Still very swollen, but looking basically OK. Yes, it could use a clean, but not in an alarming way, and I am not willing to put him through that yet. As Sammie's mum said last night (oh, I've been plaguing her with texts and e-mails, but I know she doesn't mind one little bit), if the vets had thought he needed me to clean him as part of his aftercare, they'd have said so.
"Leave it alone don't touch!" is my mantra.
Yard owner came over to check on him while I was scratching, and I mentioned again that he'd been a little off in the morning, but seemed absolutely fine now.
"He is fine," she said, matter of factly. "He was kicking his door for his lunch. He's picked up on that pretty quick, considering he's only been getting lunch for one day!"
I could see from her look that she thought I was being a little over-protective and admittedly, perhaps I am, but there was definitely something. But anyone who has a dog, cat, hamster, rabbit etc, or even a child for that matter, will completely understand the assessing look that tells you something isn't right. I won't take credit for being the best at animal husbandry, or horse knowledge, or much of anything at all, but I do know my boy.
I am happy for the moment. Led him out to his field with a spring in his step. Watched him go off happily and easily to graze, no sign of despondency or discomfort. And tomorrow morning, I will again be anxious, but I suppose with each passing day, that anxiety will wane a little until the moment when I finally know that all is healed and well.
Came back from grocery shopping today and had a sudden thought that although I will be pleased to arrive at the yard and hear someone tell me "Oh! Max dropped! I saw it!" it is not something I want to miss. I want to be there the first time it happens, much as I'd like to see a baby take his first steps.
I approached his box and saw that he was lying down. One look told me he wasn't quite right. He was awake, but seemed not quite there. I called his name three times before he looked up at me. No whuffle.
I walked in and knelt by his head. "All right, Max?" Tiny head nod.
"Do you want some toast and marmite?"
I proffered his breakfast treat and he sniffed, became a little more animated, and happily ate each little strip I broke off for him, chewing thoughtfully before offering his head for another bit to chew on. I got up and checked his feed bowl, and it was licked clean. No problem with his appetite. I knelt again by his head and looked intently. Eyes clear, nose clear, breathing OK.
No real signs of anything wrong, he just seemed subdued. Max dialled down is not something I'm accustomed to, nor do I like to see it.
Had to leave him for work, but told him I'd be back in a few hours and would have a better look then.
Went out onto the yard and asked if he'd come in from the field all right. Yes, he'd been fine. So I just asked that they keep an eye on him until my return, and to not hesitate to call the vet if anything looked amiss. Vet first, then me.
When I got back, I parked up and walked round to his side of the yard, relieved to see his head now peeking over the box, as I would expect. He must have heard me coming.
He was absolutely fine. I spent about an hour with him. Gave him his drug laced lunch, fed him a juicy mango (which he loved) and then spent ages scratching his back and side for him to remove the loose hair and dirt, while he went into blissful stretches, lip quivers, and occasionally pointed with his nose to the place he wanted me to scratch next.
He was not interested in being brushed at all, but digging in with my fingernails was definitely welcome. The box was full of loose hair flying about, and Max was full of head nods and shakes, asking for kisses and following directions for backing up and moving sideways like a pro.
Finally I picked his feet out and by doing so got a chance to have a good look at his undercarriage. Still very swollen, but looking basically OK. Yes, it could use a clean, but not in an alarming way, and I am not willing to put him through that yet. As Sammie's mum said last night (oh, I've been plaguing her with texts and e-mails, but I know she doesn't mind one little bit), if the vets had thought he needed me to clean him as part of his aftercare, they'd have said so.
"Leave it alone don't touch!" is my mantra.
Yard owner came over to check on him while I was scratching, and I mentioned again that he'd been a little off in the morning, but seemed absolutely fine now.
"He is fine," she said, matter of factly. "He was kicking his door for his lunch. He's picked up on that pretty quick, considering he's only been getting lunch for one day!"
I could see from her look that she thought I was being a little over-protective and admittedly, perhaps I am, but there was definitely something. But anyone who has a dog, cat, hamster, rabbit etc, or even a child for that matter, will completely understand the assessing look that tells you something isn't right. I won't take credit for being the best at animal husbandry, or horse knowledge, or much of anything at all, but I do know my boy.
I am happy for the moment. Led him out to his field with a spring in his step. Watched him go off happily and easily to graze, no sign of despondency or discomfort. And tomorrow morning, I will again be anxious, but I suppose with each passing day, that anxiety will wane a little until the moment when I finally know that all is healed and well.
Came back from grocery shopping today and had a sudden thought that although I will be pleased to arrive at the yard and hear someone tell me "Oh! Max dropped! I saw it!" it is not something I want to miss. I want to be there the first time it happens, much as I'd like to see a baby take his first steps.
Wednesday 23 April 2008
Who pulled your string, Chatty Cathy?
Max is talking. A lot.
When he was young, Max was pretty vocal. When I moved him from the field he shared with his momma to a livery yard, he bellowed for the whole journey, and once there, he called out for ages as he raced around his field. Once he had settled and was happy with his routine, it was still very common for him to call to me as I went about my business at the yard, when I arrived in the morning, when I went into his field for a play.
When I moved him to his current yard, he travelled with another horse who moved yards with us, the one that is now his field mate. They were quiet on the trip, but for the first little while after they arrived, they always called a greeting to each other.
His field mate, older but not wiser, still calls to Max routinely, especially if he is in the field and Max isn't, or when Max returns from a lone hack. Max long ago stopped answering, with a kind of weary "Yes, yes... I see you. Chill!" nonchalance. He has been a fairly quiet boy, except for the occasional whuffle at me when I approach his stable. A little whuffle is heart-warming and always welcome!
Today, I went to collect him from his field and he was at some distance with his head down, so I called his name, and he answered with a full throated neigh, then walked eagerly over to greet me. Walked because I think trotting is still a bit ouchy.
Settled him in to his delicious, drug-laced breakfast, and left him to it.
Whenever I approached (which admittedly, I did rather a lot) I got another neigh. Not a whuffle, a proper, in yer face both barrels neigh.
When his field mate went out for a wander in hand, Max called again. When two other horses whom he's never really bothered with left the yard for a hack, Max called again.
He seems happy today. He's eating well, doesn't look like he's in pain, bright and alert, with lots to say.
Others at the yard have told me he's just singing his "happy to be home" song. I'd like to believe that's true, and maybe it partially is, but I think he's feeling a little insecure. I think the past few days have rocked his world, and he's regressed to the young boy who isn't quite sure of his footing or what's going to happen to him next.
I talked to my dad on the phone last night. He had called to check on Max, and I told him how Max seemed wary of the world and how that saddened me. "Well," my dad said, "You can understand it. He's thinking 'What have they done to me? What will they do next?' but he'll get over it. He still trusts you doesn't he? He still follows where you lead."
Heart achingly, yes, he does. After all that he's been through, he is still the same willing boy who will follow me when I ask.
So every call he sent out, I answered, and every call I will answer until Max feels settled and comfortable again and sure of his place in the world we share. I'm sure it will be soon, and yes, I do think he's very happy to be home.
The Ent, who had a long drive to and from work yesterday stopped at the yard before he came home. He walked out to Max's field and jangled his keys at him, and Max trotted over happily to see his friend. Sadly, the Ent did not have any treats for Max (who walks around with no Extra Strong Mints in their pocket for Max, eh? Not me!).
I love that the Ent went though, because it shows that Max is not just "my horse", he's part of our family. And I love that Max eagerly went forward because he, too, understands that his family extends beyond me to the man with the soft voice and gentle hands.
No report on "the big drop" yet. He's still too swollen. Is he being fussed by his groupies? You bet he is! Just about everybody who arrived on the yard today greeted me with "How is he? Is it OK if I give him a ... (select your treat)."
And one, hopefully last, girlie cry from me when my friend S showed up, checked on Max, and then came over and checked on me. "You must be so relieved. This must have been so hard, but he's home now. Are you OK?" and ridiculously, I felt the tears fall again as I got wrapped in a hug. The relief to have him home is huge, but I'm still so worried after what he's been through, and despite the fact that I think this op will work, I feel so mean for putting him through it.
Does he doubt me? Probably not. He's in the moment, and he's not holding a grudge, or wondering why he's sore, or blaming me. I just wish I could explain...
When he was young, Max was pretty vocal. When I moved him from the field he shared with his momma to a livery yard, he bellowed for the whole journey, and once there, he called out for ages as he raced around his field. Once he had settled and was happy with his routine, it was still very common for him to call to me as I went about my business at the yard, when I arrived in the morning, when I went into his field for a play.
When I moved him to his current yard, he travelled with another horse who moved yards with us, the one that is now his field mate. They were quiet on the trip, but for the first little while after they arrived, they always called a greeting to each other.
His field mate, older but not wiser, still calls to Max routinely, especially if he is in the field and Max isn't, or when Max returns from a lone hack. Max long ago stopped answering, with a kind of weary "Yes, yes... I see you. Chill!" nonchalance. He has been a fairly quiet boy, except for the occasional whuffle at me when I approach his stable. A little whuffle is heart-warming and always welcome!
Today, I went to collect him from his field and he was at some distance with his head down, so I called his name, and he answered with a full throated neigh, then walked eagerly over to greet me. Walked because I think trotting is still a bit ouchy.
Settled him in to his delicious, drug-laced breakfast, and left him to it.
Whenever I approached (which admittedly, I did rather a lot) I got another neigh. Not a whuffle, a proper, in yer face both barrels neigh.
When his field mate went out for a wander in hand, Max called again. When two other horses whom he's never really bothered with left the yard for a hack, Max called again.
He seems happy today. He's eating well, doesn't look like he's in pain, bright and alert, with lots to say.
Others at the yard have told me he's just singing his "happy to be home" song. I'd like to believe that's true, and maybe it partially is, but I think he's feeling a little insecure. I think the past few days have rocked his world, and he's regressed to the young boy who isn't quite sure of his footing or what's going to happen to him next.
I talked to my dad on the phone last night. He had called to check on Max, and I told him how Max seemed wary of the world and how that saddened me. "Well," my dad said, "You can understand it. He's thinking 'What have they done to me? What will they do next?' but he'll get over it. He still trusts you doesn't he? He still follows where you lead."
Heart achingly, yes, he does. After all that he's been through, he is still the same willing boy who will follow me when I ask.
So every call he sent out, I answered, and every call I will answer until Max feels settled and comfortable again and sure of his place in the world we share. I'm sure it will be soon, and yes, I do think he's very happy to be home.
The Ent, who had a long drive to and from work yesterday stopped at the yard before he came home. He walked out to Max's field and jangled his keys at him, and Max trotted over happily to see his friend. Sadly, the Ent did not have any treats for Max (who walks around with no Extra Strong Mints in their pocket for Max, eh? Not me!).
I love that the Ent went though, because it shows that Max is not just "my horse", he's part of our family. And I love that Max eagerly went forward because he, too, understands that his family extends beyond me to the man with the soft voice and gentle hands.
No report on "the big drop" yet. He's still too swollen. Is he being fussed by his groupies? You bet he is! Just about everybody who arrived on the yard today greeted me with "How is he? Is it OK if I give him a ... (select your treat)."
And one, hopefully last, girlie cry from me when my friend S showed up, checked on Max, and then came over and checked on me. "You must be so relieved. This must have been so hard, but he's home now. Are you OK?" and ridiculously, I felt the tears fall again as I got wrapped in a hug. The relief to have him home is huge, but I'm still so worried after what he's been through, and despite the fact that I think this op will work, I feel so mean for putting him through it.
Does he doubt me? Probably not. He's in the moment, and he's not holding a grudge, or wondering why he's sore, or blaming me. I just wish I could explain...
Tuesday 22 April 2008
The boy is back in town!
Max is home. He has a bag full of drugs and a sheet full of instructions, one of which, happily, was "Return to normal routine immediately", which means as I type these words, Max is out in his field with his friend, and they looked perfectly contented when I left the yard.
He travelled well again - was a little hesitant about going up that ramp this time, but still walked on quickly when I asked. I watched his face and tried to put my finger on what was different. He looked suddenly wary about the world around him, mistrustful. I felt terrible that I had put that look on his face... But still I stood there, hand on withers, talking quietly, singing occasionally, and finally, walked right up to his head and peered at him through the grille. He turned, and his face changed again, into the Max I recognise. He poked his nose at me for a kiss, got his treat, and I said "OK Max?" Gentle head nod.
He did a lot of sniffing out the window on this trip, and when we got about a mile away from home, he bellowed out a loud neigh. I think he knew. I think he could smell home.
So, hopefully "horse porn" is done for us now, though if it is, it went out with a flourish involving the strangest telephone conversation I've ever had (slightly edited for those of a sensitive nature).
The vets were doing a last check on Max before deciding if he could come home today. I was on the phone with one, while the surgeon was checking Max out.
"He's fine. He's a bit swollen and sore but he's eating well."
"Has anybody seen him have a wee?" I asked.
"He has had one," the vet confirmed, "but we didn't see. We don't expect he'll be dropping yet, because he is quite sore, and the stitches are right there, so he won't be wanting to push past that just now. We're very optimistic."
"Oh good!"
"In fact, the surgeon has just pulled his willy out with his hand. He's very happy with it!"
That's either very good news, or rather disturbing. I'll opt for good rather than the seedy actions of a pony botherer.
The upshot is, there's every reason to believe this was a great success, and we should be able to see the evidence of that in the next few days. Fingers crossed.
He travelled well again - was a little hesitant about going up that ramp this time, but still walked on quickly when I asked. I watched his face and tried to put my finger on what was different. He looked suddenly wary about the world around him, mistrustful. I felt terrible that I had put that look on his face... But still I stood there, hand on withers, talking quietly, singing occasionally, and finally, walked right up to his head and peered at him through the grille. He turned, and his face changed again, into the Max I recognise. He poked his nose at me for a kiss, got his treat, and I said "OK Max?" Gentle head nod.
He did a lot of sniffing out the window on this trip, and when we got about a mile away from home, he bellowed out a loud neigh. I think he knew. I think he could smell home.
So, hopefully "horse porn" is done for us now, though if it is, it went out with a flourish involving the strangest telephone conversation I've ever had (slightly edited for those of a sensitive nature).
The vets were doing a last check on Max before deciding if he could come home today. I was on the phone with one, while the surgeon was checking Max out.
"He's fine. He's a bit swollen and sore but he's eating well."
"Has anybody seen him have a wee?" I asked.
"He has had one," the vet confirmed, "but we didn't see. We don't expect he'll be dropping yet, because he is quite sore, and the stitches are right there, so he won't be wanting to push past that just now. We're very optimistic."
"Oh good!"
"In fact, the surgeon has just pulled his willy out with his hand. He's very happy with it!"
That's either very good news, or rather disturbing. I'll opt for good rather than the seedy actions of a pony botherer.
The upshot is, there's every reason to believe this was a great success, and we should be able to see the evidence of that in the next few days. Fingers crossed.
Monday 21 April 2008
And everybody breathe...
Max has sailed through his op. Me, not so much.
Woke up this morning feeling relatively stable and calm. Made myself a coffee, sat down, and found myself hyperventilating. "Why can't I breathe? Why is my stomach cramping?"
Went to the yard, and despite Max's empty box, took great comfort from the neds that were there. I give particular thanks to Audrey, our lovely chestnut mare, who wrapped me in the most sympathetic cuddle.
I got the call from the surgeon this morning just before nine, as I was finishing up the yard work."I've had a look at Max, and we're about to perform surgery. It's undocumented, there's nothing to refer to. This is unprecedented, and I can't guarantee the efficacy..."
That's not what you want to hear, is it? He went on, reminded me of the dangers of general anaesthetic, said he wasn't sure it would work, but it would probably make things better in the long run. Said he'd call when it was done.
So I went off to work, I sat like a tightly coiled spring for three hours, I had a doctor offer me a brown paper bag to breathe into (I work in a surgery) and I left at 1.00 to meet Sammie's mum, who was on a mission of mercy to hold my hand all afternoon, and visit Max if that was on the cards.
Was on my way to the car when the call came in. "Hi! Max is a grand wee horse, isn't he? He's come round now, and we're just about to lead him back into his box."
Talked about whether I should visit, and was advised that no, best not. He'd be groggy all afternoon and recovering, upsetting for me, and possibly distressing for Max.
Arrived home moments before Sammie's mum pulled into my drive, and had to assure her that all was well as I burst into tears, finally, with the relief of my boy coming through it all and she gathered me into a big hug, "I know, I know! He's fine, cry it out!"
All being well, I can collect him tomorrow as planned. I'll get a confirmation call in the morning.
Again, many thanks to all of you who have been hanging on and wishing us the best. More updates when I have them.
Sammie's mum asks me to add that I'm on the wine now (she insisted) and you will not get sense out of me until tomorrow anyway.
x
Sunday 20 April 2008
Travellin' Max
Friends of Max will not be surprised to hear that his trip to Newbury to see the vet went without a hitch today. My boy did me proud, again.
I arrived at the yard early to make a fuss, give him a brush, pick burrs out of his forelock, and attend to his undercarriage cleansing, maybe for the last time. Well, not the very last, because even if the surgery works like a dream, sheath cleaning is still one of the things you do with geldings - but ideally a couple of times a year, not a couple of times a day.
I had a quiet chat with Max, explained again what was about to happen, and that he shouldn't be scared, and I needed him to trust me, walk right up the ramp into the lorry, and I'd stay with him for the ride if he wanted me to.
When I had a little cry at his box door, he left his hay and came over and offered me his nose to kiss. It was only a little cry, after all - I wasn't wailing or anything silly like that.
Ent came along to see us off, and ended up loading Max himself while I stood in the horsebox offering a carrot. Max had just been standing having a stare at the box, but when I stepped forward so he could see me, he came up the ramp with no hesitation. It helped that the Ent was so calm, too; no worries about any anxiety travelling down the lead rope while the Ent is holding the other end of it.
Was Max happy? No, he definitely wasn't, but he remained calm. No fussing, no struggling and no calling out. He stayed quiet, he stayed still, and he took his pony nut treats when I clicked and offered. He didn't touch the haynet I had for him though.
As he looked a bit stressed and scared, I opted for staying in the back with him, and stood the whole way to Newbury, my hand on his withers, singing, talking, watchful. A few times Max raised his nose to the open window and had a good sniff. The only time he had a mini freak-out was when a gang of bikers roared past with loads of noise. I sang Kookaburra, Max's ears twitched back to me, and he settled down again. Never to fully "chilled out Max" settled, but definitely settled enough for me to not worry about him.
He arrived in a slight sweat on his neck. He paused at the top of the ramp to survey this new place, but when I asked him to walk on after his gaze, he did, and followed me round the corner to where the boxes were. There he stopped, head high, and bellowed out one long neigh. He was answered immediately by Another Horse.
"See Max? You've already got a friend."
Took him to his box (deep shavings, water and haynet awaiting) straight in, no drama.
Left him to it while I signed consent form and left his passport and an A4 sheet entitled "Max Quirks" which I'd written the night before (yes, they'll laugh at me, but I don't care) and I kissed my boy goodbye, said "God Bless, kitten" and walked away.
I have been discouraged from going to visit him tomorrow. I have not yet decided if I'm going to take that advice or not.
Photo is Max in his temporary accommodation. I think he's asking for someone to call his solicitor.
PS I mentioned to Max, as we were driving along, that if all the people who were thinking of us, sending positive thoughts and love especially to Max were physically standing in the horsebox with us instead of metaphorically, we wouldn't have room to budge. Thanks to you all - we both really appreciate it.
Friday 18 April 2008
"I am da hula rula!"
Max owns hula hoopin'! Such a brave and curious boy. We took the hoop into the indoor school today and had a go at touching it in the air, then touching it on the ground, then (free style) picking it up in his teeth and giving it a shake, then me rolling it across the school, Max chasing it, picking it up with his teeth and giving it a shake, and finally, letting me put it over his head and neck and hold it there. Finally he allowed me to pick up each of his front feet in turn, place them inside the hoop while it was flat on the ground, then take them out again. Eventually I hope he'll step into and out of the hoop of his own accord when asked, but first he needs to understand what I'm asking of him.
After that, we did a bit of long-lining. It's been a while since we've done it properly - we've had variations which haven't really worked out for us, so I took him back to basics and all went pretty well. He got bored and ended up taking himself onto a smaller circle and doing some lovely trot and canter work. I just had to keep myself in position and make occasional noises of encouragement. He still does downward transitions to voice sweet as pie.
After that, a little loose work, and a finishing flourish of hula hoop, before being turned out into his field.
I missed him yesterday because I was up in London for the afternoon/evening, so I was nice to have a long time in the school just us. We must have been in there over an hour, but since we were doing lots of different things, Max didn't get bored or unfocused.
I'm beginning to feel quite anxious about his op in three days. The days are flying by and I keep telling myself that by this time next week, it will all be done and he'll be back home safe again.
After that, we did a bit of long-lining. It's been a while since we've done it properly - we've had variations which haven't really worked out for us, so I took him back to basics and all went pretty well. He got bored and ended up taking himself onto a smaller circle and doing some lovely trot and canter work. I just had to keep myself in position and make occasional noises of encouragement. He still does downward transitions to voice sweet as pie.
After that, a little loose work, and a finishing flourish of hula hoop, before being turned out into his field.
I missed him yesterday because I was up in London for the afternoon/evening, so I was nice to have a long time in the school just us. We must have been in there over an hour, but since we were doing lots of different things, Max didn't get bored or unfocused.
I'm beginning to feel quite anxious about his op in three days. The days are flying by and I keep telling myself that by this time next week, it will all be done and he'll be back home safe again.
Wednesday 16 April 2008
Mango Max!
Yes, he likes the mangoes! One of the other owners today observed that Max is a pony of expensive and exotic tastes if he hankers after mango, but it was a much reduced organic mango and it was for sharesies with me, so I don't begrudge him 50p. Not at all sweet, and I thought the texture might not be appealing, but he thought it was very nice indeed.
Full day at the yard today, so no work for Max. Took him out on a long walk yesterday, with my friend, K, accompanying. We had a good ol' natter as we trudged up and down hills, and Max gave us each a few nudges to express his annoyance at not being the centre of attention.
Beautiful day and as I walked I considered that I'm getting to know my boy pretty well. Very stop start as we headed out, and a bit of a stubborn streak too, which I accepted because I know he's always thus for the first ten minutes or so. Up one hill at a trudge.
I said to K "He'll have a couple of snorts as we get near the top of this hill, and then he'll get all springy and forward going."
He did exactly that, and started to power on through, with his springy walk and holding himself just beautifully. He really is as beautiful and stirring as a well crafted poem when he gets his stuff together and starts enjoying the outing!
I am hard pressed for time again tomorrow as I have to go up to London in the evening to support another friend having a book launch. K has taken a bit of the load off by offering to take Max out in the morning, for a walk with all his gear on, and if he's moving well and is amenable, she'll ride him for a bit too. That's all he needs, and I'm grateful for her help. I will forego my early morning visit to remove his rug and check that all is well with his world, because I know K will be there to do that for me. I will return to him in the afternoon for his ablutions, and perhaps a little play in the school, before releasing him to his field.
I'd like to be spending a bit more time with him to work on clicker training to really get him focused for loading and travelling away from home on Sunday, for his op on Monday. But we have Friday and Saturday to do that, and maybe it's good that we're both busy and I don't have time to dwell on what he's about to go through.
Fingers crossed that the results of this little blip on the horizon will pay off big time for Max. The fact that it may save me having to worry about his undercarriage is a low priority concern. I don't want it to work to take that task away from me, I want it to work to make Max's world a happier, healthier place.
Full day at the yard today, so no work for Max. Took him out on a long walk yesterday, with my friend, K, accompanying. We had a good ol' natter as we trudged up and down hills, and Max gave us each a few nudges to express his annoyance at not being the centre of attention.
Beautiful day and as I walked I considered that I'm getting to know my boy pretty well. Very stop start as we headed out, and a bit of a stubborn streak too, which I accepted because I know he's always thus for the first ten minutes or so. Up one hill at a trudge.
I said to K "He'll have a couple of snorts as we get near the top of this hill, and then he'll get all springy and forward going."
He did exactly that, and started to power on through, with his springy walk and holding himself just beautifully. He really is as beautiful and stirring as a well crafted poem when he gets his stuff together and starts enjoying the outing!
I am hard pressed for time again tomorrow as I have to go up to London in the evening to support another friend having a book launch. K has taken a bit of the load off by offering to take Max out in the morning, for a walk with all his gear on, and if he's moving well and is amenable, she'll ride him for a bit too. That's all he needs, and I'm grateful for her help. I will forego my early morning visit to remove his rug and check that all is well with his world, because I know K will be there to do that for me. I will return to him in the afternoon for his ablutions, and perhaps a little play in the school, before releasing him to his field.
I'd like to be spending a bit more time with him to work on clicker training to really get him focused for loading and travelling away from home on Sunday, for his op on Monday. But we have Friday and Saturday to do that, and maybe it's good that we're both busy and I don't have time to dwell on what he's about to go through.
Fingers crossed that the results of this little blip on the horizon will pay off big time for Max. The fact that it may save me having to worry about his undercarriage is a low priority concern. I don't want it to work to take that task away from me, I want it to work to make Max's world a happier, healthier place.
Sunday 13 April 2008
I say ptooey!
Vittoria on the vine cherry tomatoes are off the menu! Liked 'em loads yesterday, really hate them a lot today. A lot! Spit them on the floor and look quite affronted hate 'em!
On the other hand, home made chocolate chip cookies, well, they're not so bad after all, as it happens.
Contrary pony! No matter, the tomatoes didn't go to waste. Our senior citizen, 34 year old Exmoor pony with few teeth, LOVED the tomatoes, and accepted them, as he accepts all things, like a starving, neglected welfare case, who never gets anything ever. He is a fibber of the highest order, but none of us mind because he is such a sweet ol' thing and he knows how to work his senior status.
Another weird weather day - lots of sharp showers, then sunshine. Tomorrow is meant to be clear and lovely, so Max and I will go for a walk then. Today, I introduced him to the hula hoop.
He got pretty big eyed, tall and unsure, but touched when I asked. Held it in various positions, stood in it myself, held it over my head, rolled it on the floor, and eventually settled it on his back.
He wasn't loving any of it, but touched each time I asked and stayed steady and stout hearted through it all.
Eventually, at the end, when I lay it flat, he got enough nerve to pick it up in his teeth and give it a shake. That's when the ball-bearing did the "shoop" noise and hoop was dropped pretty sharpish, with a head shake and a warning snort.
Immediately asked him to touch it again, and did not hesitate, so a mint and removal of the hoop from his sight was his reward.
At least it's been introduced now. We'll work up to stepping into it gradually.
On the other hand, home made chocolate chip cookies, well, they're not so bad after all, as it happens.
Contrary pony! No matter, the tomatoes didn't go to waste. Our senior citizen, 34 year old Exmoor pony with few teeth, LOVED the tomatoes, and accepted them, as he accepts all things, like a starving, neglected welfare case, who never gets anything ever. He is a fibber of the highest order, but none of us mind because he is such a sweet ol' thing and he knows how to work his senior status.
Another weird weather day - lots of sharp showers, then sunshine. Tomorrow is meant to be clear and lovely, so Max and I will go for a walk then. Today, I introduced him to the hula hoop.
He got pretty big eyed, tall and unsure, but touched when I asked. Held it in various positions, stood in it myself, held it over my head, rolled it on the floor, and eventually settled it on his back.
He wasn't loving any of it, but touched each time I asked and stayed steady and stout hearted through it all.
Eventually, at the end, when I lay it flat, he got enough nerve to pick it up in his teeth and give it a shake. That's when the ball-bearing did the "shoop" noise and hoop was dropped pretty sharpish, with a head shake and a warning snort.
Immediately asked him to touch it again, and did not hesitate, so a mint and removal of the hoop from his sight was his reward.
At least it's been introduced now. We'll work up to stepping into it gradually.
Saturday 12 April 2008
You say tomato...
I say "Have we got any more??"
Max's new taste sensation today was a vittoria on the vine cherry tomato. Just one little one to see if he liked it. Which he did.
His face was a picture as he chomped down and the tom burst open in his mouth. Big eyes registering surprise and head nodding like the first time he tasted marmite.
I'd say he just likes everything, but he has rejected chocolate chip cookies (home baked) and... that's it, I think.
Just a walk in hand for Mr Max today, on another blowy, rainy Saturday. He got a little over-excited in the sheep field and tried to drag the Ent around, but the Ent is learning to turn him in a circle to stop him, and Max, so far, is foiled.
As soon as we left the grassy field, which was also where the wind was strongest, Max calmed down and walked with a lively step and keen eye. It was lovely to see.
Max's new taste sensation today was a vittoria on the vine cherry tomato. Just one little one to see if he liked it. Which he did.
His face was a picture as he chomped down and the tom burst open in his mouth. Big eyes registering surprise and head nodding like the first time he tasted marmite.
I'd say he just likes everything, but he has rejected chocolate chip cookies (home baked) and... that's it, I think.
Just a walk in hand for Mr Max today, on another blowy, rainy Saturday. He got a little over-excited in the sheep field and tried to drag the Ent around, but the Ent is learning to turn him in a circle to stop him, and Max, so far, is foiled.
As soon as we left the grassy field, which was also where the wind was strongest, Max calmed down and walked with a lively step and keen eye. It was lovely to see.
Friday 11 April 2008
Come a little closer, Clarice...
The boy is out of control!
Hack went very well today, with K riding. Said he was very full of himself, but well behaved. Another windy day - and the rest. As I sat in the office, I watched sunshine, followed by driving rain, followed by hail, followed by thunder and lightning.
Luckily, they missed most of that on the hack, arriving home before the worst of it. Got caught in a bit of wind and rain, but were luckily sheltered by trees, and Max behaved beautifully.
I arrived at the yard just before 2.00 to give him a fuss. He had his head over the door, yawning with gusto, after his hour of walking, trotting and a few little canters too.
But he was not too tired to be playful, and was quite handy with his gnashers, as K and I stood outside his stable having a chat. It was pure attention seeking.
"Me, me, me! Everybody look at me! Are you paying attention? I can see that you aren't. Perhaps if I tug on your sleeve a little? No? How about your shoulder? Would you like a nudge?"
Photo is from last summer in his grazing mask, but perhaps the blasted thing needs to be reinstanted, not to protect Max from the new grass, but to protect me from ol' bossy boots who does not take kindly to being ignored.
Wednesday 9 April 2008
What a delightful pony!
Not my words. Somebody else rode Max today.
She's a friend who also works on our yard a couple of afternoons a week, and has another mount she routinely rides first, then gets down to the hard graft of pitchfork, broom and wheelbarrow.
But her usual mount had a really bad gash to his fetlock a couple of weeks back and still can't be ridden, so my friend in the meantime has been riding the YO's big grey. But big grey is generally ridden on a Wednesday by somebody else (who has been on holiday but returned today... are you following all this?)
Could see my friend was disappointed when she saw she had no horse to ride. She doesn't have a car either, just a bike, so she was pretty much stuck at the yard and it was only 11.00 in the morning with work not starting until 2.00!
So I said she could try Max if she wanted. I can't ride him on a Wednesday because I don't have time between my two jobs. After polite protestations and my insistence that I truly didn't mind, she happily gave in ("Are you really sure? You really don't mind?") .
I helped her tack up (because my tack is a bit unconventional) and told her to just try him in the school first to see how it felt, and if she didn't think she was getting on with him, no problem, put him back in his box. I know he's a bit dodgy about hacking on his own, but he's been getting miles better, and S is a good rider and very kind with her hands and legs. So I thought it would be good for Max and certainly wouldn't harm him.
Told her about his tricks, told her he'd be slow on the lane but pick up when they turned off it, take a stick, but just use it against her boot or the saddle if needed (she does that anyway - she's not one for hitting critters) and that if he stopped for a stare, just let him stare for a bit and wait to feel him relax, then ask again gently if he didn't decide to go ahead on his own.
Reminded her he's barefoot, so mind the ground, but he's actually a fun ride and his only real trouble spot is spinning suddenly if he's scared, but her usual mount does exactly the same thing, so she's well used to that and sits spins like a pro.
I bravely left the yard, with S just leading my boy away towards the school. I paused as I saw him do a stop and stare, and watched as S gave him a pat, said "Ready, Max? Walk on" gently, and Max obliged on best behaviour.
"Bye bye, baby," I whispered after him. "Be a good boy and stay safe."
Then I drove away and tried not to fixate on the fact that Max was out with somebody else.
The report is back.
S returned from her hack on Max with a big grin on her face, apparently. She said he was lovely! She said he was a very brave pony, and added that she would be delighted to ride him again because he was so much fun.
Attaboy Max! You've done me proud. Again.
She's a friend who also works on our yard a couple of afternoons a week, and has another mount she routinely rides first, then gets down to the hard graft of pitchfork, broom and wheelbarrow.
But her usual mount had a really bad gash to his fetlock a couple of weeks back and still can't be ridden, so my friend in the meantime has been riding the YO's big grey. But big grey is generally ridden on a Wednesday by somebody else (who has been on holiday but returned today... are you following all this?)
Could see my friend was disappointed when she saw she had no horse to ride. She doesn't have a car either, just a bike, so she was pretty much stuck at the yard and it was only 11.00 in the morning with work not starting until 2.00!
So I said she could try Max if she wanted. I can't ride him on a Wednesday because I don't have time between my two jobs. After polite protestations and my insistence that I truly didn't mind, she happily gave in ("Are you really sure? You really don't mind?") .
I helped her tack up (because my tack is a bit unconventional) and told her to just try him in the school first to see how it felt, and if she didn't think she was getting on with him, no problem, put him back in his box. I know he's a bit dodgy about hacking on his own, but he's been getting miles better, and S is a good rider and very kind with her hands and legs. So I thought it would be good for Max and certainly wouldn't harm him.
Told her about his tricks, told her he'd be slow on the lane but pick up when they turned off it, take a stick, but just use it against her boot or the saddle if needed (she does that anyway - she's not one for hitting critters) and that if he stopped for a stare, just let him stare for a bit and wait to feel him relax, then ask again gently if he didn't decide to go ahead on his own.
Reminded her he's barefoot, so mind the ground, but he's actually a fun ride and his only real trouble spot is spinning suddenly if he's scared, but her usual mount does exactly the same thing, so she's well used to that and sits spins like a pro.
I bravely left the yard, with S just leading my boy away towards the school. I paused as I saw him do a stop and stare, and watched as S gave him a pat, said "Ready, Max? Walk on" gently, and Max obliged on best behaviour.
"Bye bye, baby," I whispered after him. "Be a good boy and stay safe."
Then I drove away and tried not to fixate on the fact that Max was out with somebody else.
The report is back.
S returned from her hack on Max with a big grin on her face, apparently. She said he was lovely! She said he was a very brave pony, and added that she would be delighted to ride him again because he was so much fun.
Attaboy Max! You've done me proud. Again.
Tuesday 8 April 2008
A bit higher... a little left...Ah! That's it!
I have a very itchy pony. He's shedding like mad, despite the cold snap we're experiencing, and I spent ages this afternoon following directions from Max as to just where he needed me to dig in.
It happened by accident. He's not loving being groomed right now, so I decided to see how he'd be with just scratching on his withers with my fingernails (he loved it when he was a young lad).
Oooh! Head strained up, lips all a-quiver, then back stretched out and up on back hoof tippy toes. I kept scratching until he stopped, turned suddenly, and nudged his side with his muzzle.
"What?" I asked.
He had a little rub there, and then looked at me blinking.
I cleared the loose hair from his mouth, and then gave him a hard scratch where he'd indicated.
"Ah, that's it! Keep going!"
Then another turn and point, another nudge. New spot to scratch!
Then backing up and moving sideways to guide my fingernails to the next spot.
After I'd collected great wads of hair from the straw, my hair, my mouth, Max's mouth, I put on his head collar and took him to the school. First order of business was a roll, then a big shake, which left us in a cloud of hair and dust.
We did some work over trot poles, did some work on transitions, did a bit of spook busting with the big umbrella, and did some just hanging out together, too.
I've decided I'm going to take my hula hoop in this week for a bit more spook busting. It makes a noise because it has ball-bearings in it, but I think it will be interesting, too, to see if I can get him to step into it and out of it again.
Brought him back to the yard after about 40 minutes, and tied him up as his box was being cleaned.
He was a bit fractious, so I got him a bucket of water, figuring he'd be thirsty after the dusty school.
"There Max. Drink!"
He obligingly put his head in the bucket and drank with gusto.
Passing body said "Your horse is so well trained!" with admiration.
Wow! I never thought I'd hear that about Max! I'd be more chuffed if I thought it was true. He didn't drink because I told him to, he drank because I know him well enough to know when he's thirsty, and I just provided what he was looking for.
It was quite good though, because my reply was, "Stand back, because when he's done, he's going to give us a shower."
He did. Head up, extravagant nod and those in the vicinity got sprayed.
Interesting thing, too. I've been working hard on teaching Max not to be so lippy with clicker training. It works a treat in his "nip" zone, but he will still go for me when following loose, and occasionally just because.
We had one argument about it today in the school, and after making him back up and away from me, I turned my back and walked away from him, and sat quietly on the bench. He meandered around a bit, picking things up and dropping them, and then walked over to me, settled his muzzle on my shoulder, opened his mouth... and did nothing. Just rested his teeth against me, wrinkled his muzzle up and down, but nothing else.
"You're a weirdo!" I said to him.
"Not. Just playin', see? I wouldn't really bite you. Much."
Back in the yard, I was a bit wary because two children were fawning over him, and I was keeping a watchful eye in case he got a bit mouthy. He was a perfect gent with them, but would still tug at my shirt if I got in close.
I asked the kids (they know Max well) if he'd ever nipped at them, and they both said he never has.
So it's just me, then.
I'm wondering now, if this is a lack of respect thing, but I really don't think it is. I think he fully understands the concept of not nipping, and thankfully he is well behaved with everybody else, but when it comes to me, it is just a bit of mischief. I guess maybe he sees me as a peer rather than the boss of him, and to be honest, I don't really have a problem with that.
Will think on it though, and take advice, because I don't want to be encouraging a vice, nor blurring any lines for Max. Think it's not a vice though. Think it's just Max being Max, and that's exactly what I want him to be.
It happened by accident. He's not loving being groomed right now, so I decided to see how he'd be with just scratching on his withers with my fingernails (he loved it when he was a young lad).
Oooh! Head strained up, lips all a-quiver, then back stretched out and up on back hoof tippy toes. I kept scratching until he stopped, turned suddenly, and nudged his side with his muzzle.
"What?" I asked.
He had a little rub there, and then looked at me blinking.
I cleared the loose hair from his mouth, and then gave him a hard scratch where he'd indicated.
"Ah, that's it! Keep going!"
Then another turn and point, another nudge. New spot to scratch!
Then backing up and moving sideways to guide my fingernails to the next spot.
After I'd collected great wads of hair from the straw, my hair, my mouth, Max's mouth, I put on his head collar and took him to the school. First order of business was a roll, then a big shake, which left us in a cloud of hair and dust.
We did some work over trot poles, did some work on transitions, did a bit of spook busting with the big umbrella, and did some just hanging out together, too.
I've decided I'm going to take my hula hoop in this week for a bit more spook busting. It makes a noise because it has ball-bearings in it, but I think it will be interesting, too, to see if I can get him to step into it and out of it again.
Brought him back to the yard after about 40 minutes, and tied him up as his box was being cleaned.
He was a bit fractious, so I got him a bucket of water, figuring he'd be thirsty after the dusty school.
"There Max. Drink!"
He obligingly put his head in the bucket and drank with gusto.
Passing body said "Your horse is so well trained!" with admiration.
Wow! I never thought I'd hear that about Max! I'd be more chuffed if I thought it was true. He didn't drink because I told him to, he drank because I know him well enough to know when he's thirsty, and I just provided what he was looking for.
It was quite good though, because my reply was, "Stand back, because when he's done, he's going to give us a shower."
He did. Head up, extravagant nod and those in the vicinity got sprayed.
Interesting thing, too. I've been working hard on teaching Max not to be so lippy with clicker training. It works a treat in his "nip" zone, but he will still go for me when following loose, and occasionally just because.
We had one argument about it today in the school, and after making him back up and away from me, I turned my back and walked away from him, and sat quietly on the bench. He meandered around a bit, picking things up and dropping them, and then walked over to me, settled his muzzle on my shoulder, opened his mouth... and did nothing. Just rested his teeth against me, wrinkled his muzzle up and down, but nothing else.
"You're a weirdo!" I said to him.
"Not. Just playin', see? I wouldn't really bite you. Much."
Back in the yard, I was a bit wary because two children were fawning over him, and I was keeping a watchful eye in case he got a bit mouthy. He was a perfect gent with them, but would still tug at my shirt if I got in close.
I asked the kids (they know Max well) if he'd ever nipped at them, and they both said he never has.
So it's just me, then.
I'm wondering now, if this is a lack of respect thing, but I really don't think it is. I think he fully understands the concept of not nipping, and thankfully he is well behaved with everybody else, but when it comes to me, it is just a bit of mischief. I guess maybe he sees me as a peer rather than the boss of him, and to be honest, I don't really have a problem with that.
Will think on it though, and take advice, because I don't want to be encouraging a vice, nor blurring any lines for Max. Think it's not a vice though. Think it's just Max being Max, and that's exactly what I want him to be.
Monday 7 April 2008
Sleet pony
Max and I are wholly unimpressed with the weather.
Yesterday's snow was gone by the afternoon, as I knew it would be. Today was cold and clear for the yard work, but by the time I was heading back for the yard this afternoon, a heavy sleet shower was in progress.
We've had them all now: rain, snow, sleet and hail. I guess I can sign Max up for the Pony Express (if it still existed).
Looks like my boy's surgery will be scheduled for two weeks today. Hurrah and argh. I'm glad it's going to be done, and done soon, but I am already worrying, and I hate the idea of Max having to go through this.
Truth be told, though, Max will more than likely be fine. He's resilient, he's got no sense of anticipation, so he won't be scared, particularly and he will no doubt take it all on, deal with it, and come back home the same easy-going soul he was before his adventure. I will be a wreck.
We are getting a lift both ways from a generous friend, and she has said we can either take her trailer or her HUGE horse box. So I'm weighing that up.
Max has only travelled with me twice. Once in a small box on his own, and he flipped out. I had to ride in the back with him and try to calm him as he attempted to clamour over the partition. He arrived at his new yard drenched in sweat and completely strung out.
To be fair, he'd only been mine for three weeks at that point, so although we had a bond, it wasn't as strong as it is now. I'd also just taken him away from his mother, so it is understandable that an inexperienced young boy might have found all that a bit much to cope with.
The next time, he was in the same box, but he had a travelling companion, and he was good as gold. No fuss, no worries, loaded like a dream when the other horse wouldn't, and arrived dry and curious, but not freaked out.
He'll be travelling alone again this time, and that's a worry. But he's not that young pony just leaving his mum now.
I think I might prefer the HUGE box, just because I can travel with him, either in the cab if he's fine, or walk through to where he is if he needs me closer.
I'm thinking I should maybe spend some of the intervening time letting him get to know the box, maybe loading him up a few times and letting him have some treats in there so on the day, he's not anxious about being led to the big box all on his own.
Will talk to my mate and see what she thinks. I'm sure a few practice runs wouldn't go amiss.
Yesterday's snow was gone by the afternoon, as I knew it would be. Today was cold and clear for the yard work, but by the time I was heading back for the yard this afternoon, a heavy sleet shower was in progress.
We've had them all now: rain, snow, sleet and hail. I guess I can sign Max up for the Pony Express (if it still existed).
Looks like my boy's surgery will be scheduled for two weeks today. Hurrah and argh. I'm glad it's going to be done, and done soon, but I am already worrying, and I hate the idea of Max having to go through this.
Truth be told, though, Max will more than likely be fine. He's resilient, he's got no sense of anticipation, so he won't be scared, particularly and he will no doubt take it all on, deal with it, and come back home the same easy-going soul he was before his adventure. I will be a wreck.
We are getting a lift both ways from a generous friend, and she has said we can either take her trailer or her HUGE horse box. So I'm weighing that up.
Max has only travelled with me twice. Once in a small box on his own, and he flipped out. I had to ride in the back with him and try to calm him as he attempted to clamour over the partition. He arrived at his new yard drenched in sweat and completely strung out.
To be fair, he'd only been mine for three weeks at that point, so although we had a bond, it wasn't as strong as it is now. I'd also just taken him away from his mother, so it is understandable that an inexperienced young boy might have found all that a bit much to cope with.
The next time, he was in the same box, but he had a travelling companion, and he was good as gold. No fuss, no worries, loaded like a dream when the other horse wouldn't, and arrived dry and curious, but not freaked out.
He'll be travelling alone again this time, and that's a worry. But he's not that young pony just leaving his mum now.
I think I might prefer the HUGE box, just because I can travel with him, either in the cab if he's fine, or walk through to where he is if he needs me closer.
I'm thinking I should maybe spend some of the intervening time letting him get to know the box, maybe loading him up a few times and letting him have some treats in there so on the day, he's not anxious about being led to the big box all on his own.
Will talk to my mate and see what she thinks. I'm sure a few practice runs wouldn't go amiss.
Sunday 6 April 2008
Snow Pony
Just back from the yard, where Max and I gazed out of his window together at the white, silent scene, and watched the last of the fluffy wet flakes land and settle.
It's not proper snow. It's not the kind that will settle for any length or that one can do anything with. It's not "packing" snow, I said to the Ent this morning. "What's packing snow?" Explained that packing snow is the kind that makes snowballs and snowmen. This is a wet snow blanket, but even so, for now our little corner of Hampshire has been transformed into fairy land.
Max seemed content to watch and have a play in his box with me. I spent ages just watching him eat his hay. I may go back later, but I don't expect we'll do anything today. The bridleways will be slippery and potentially full of giddy walkers. The lane to get to the bridleway will be treacherous, and the drivers on it, unaccustomed to driving on slush, will be lethal. The school will be boring and cold, and I am not tempted by it.
Max had another fine lone hack in Friday, and a nice long walk with the Ent yesterday, so today he can get his exercise trying to keep warm in his field.
It's not proper snow. It's not the kind that will settle for any length or that one can do anything with. It's not "packing" snow, I said to the Ent this morning. "What's packing snow?" Explained that packing snow is the kind that makes snowballs and snowmen. This is a wet snow blanket, but even so, for now our little corner of Hampshire has been transformed into fairy land.
Max seemed content to watch and have a play in his box with me. I spent ages just watching him eat his hay. I may go back later, but I don't expect we'll do anything today. The bridleways will be slippery and potentially full of giddy walkers. The lane to get to the bridleway will be treacherous, and the drivers on it, unaccustomed to driving on slush, will be lethal. The school will be boring and cold, and I am not tempted by it.
Max had another fine lone hack in Friday, and a nice long walk with the Ent yesterday, so today he can get his exercise trying to keep warm in his field.
Saturday 5 April 2008
Happy greeting, banana eating, not mistreating...
Strange ol' day here today. Started off cold, then got hot, now it's cold again with warnings of snow.
All is well in Max's world, as it should be. He was already in his box when I arrived at the yard this morning, and gave me a lusty call when I approached his door to say hello. We had time for a nuzzle before I had to crack on with yard work, pausing briefly to answer the call of another pony, who wanted a fuss and to tuck his head under my arm for a bit while I scratched his neck.
That is how life should be for horses. But it isn't, and I'm about to climb on a soapbox because I saw something very disturbing last night, and I can't shake it.
I went to a vet talk with a friend. It was to aid the ILPH (International League for the Protection of Horses). Before the vets, we heard a talk from one of the rescue workers and also saw a few videos. A few horrifying videos taken right here in this country.
I can't say "The worst one was..." because they were all the worst. The one that I can't shake, though, is the live transportation for slaughter (to Europe, for meat). OK, people eat horses in some other countries, I get that. People eat cows, rabbits, chickens, sheep and all sorts. The ILPH isn't trying to stop consumption of horses, but it is trying to have them treated, transported and killed humanely.
What I saw last night was a lorry filled with horses, just crammed in, no food no water, no partitions (so they could fight, had nothing but each other to hold themselves up). Then I saw a pony, Max's size, who had managed to get himself partway over a gate in the lorry, and he was stuck.
I saw a look on his face that I often see on Max's; confusion, a plea for help "I seem to have got myself into a spot of bother here..." There was trust in those eyes, because somewhere along the line, that pony had probably had a relatively good life. Maybe he belonged to a child who outgrew him, maybe he had an owner who could no longer keep him... maybe through a series of unhappy circumstances, the various hands that he fell into cared less and less about him, until he ended up in a lorry driving to Europe so he could be slaughtered. And there he was, stuck on a gate inside that lorry. But he had a dim memory of some humans being kind to him in the past...
A gang of men tied ropes to his legs and physically, brutishly pulled him over and off the gate, scraping along his belly and hind legs and unbalancing him so that he landed first on his head, and then awkwardly on his neck before the rest of his body toppled. He looked up, dazed...
And that's when I looked away, because I couldn't watch as his "rescuers" moved forward to punish him for causing trouble.
I thought, "That could be Max. That could be any horse I know. That could be any horse at all."
It could. The history I've written above for that pony, who mercifully must now be free from suffering, is conjecture, and emotive conjecture at that. But I can see how it could so easily happen to even a much loved horse who falls on hard times through no fault of his own.
And yes, I do know it's not just horses that suffer this way, and it's not just animals either, but this is Max's blog, so this is about suffering horses and supporting those who try to make life better for them.
And in the wider world and wider sense, it's about not looking away.
Today, when Max looked at me with those clear, trusting, questioning eyes of his, I asked him if he wanted to share my banana with me. Nodding head. So we did, alternative bites until it was gone.
He's never known anything but kindness and love in his life. I pray it will always remain so.
Yes, I've made a contingency plan for Max if anything happens to me. But what if something happens to my contingency plan? And what if something happens to her contingency plan? What then? Where does Max end up if those of us who would never let anything bad enter his world aren't in his world any more either?
And now I'm going on to the ILPH website to find out how to set up a direct debit for monthly contributions to help them protect the horses who have lost their protectors. I may not be able to read the newsletter they send to subscribers, but I'll do something practical to help. It's a start.
All is well in Max's world, as it should be. He was already in his box when I arrived at the yard this morning, and gave me a lusty call when I approached his door to say hello. We had time for a nuzzle before I had to crack on with yard work, pausing briefly to answer the call of another pony, who wanted a fuss and to tuck his head under my arm for a bit while I scratched his neck.
That is how life should be for horses. But it isn't, and I'm about to climb on a soapbox because I saw something very disturbing last night, and I can't shake it.
I went to a vet talk with a friend. It was to aid the ILPH (International League for the Protection of Horses). Before the vets, we heard a talk from one of the rescue workers and also saw a few videos. A few horrifying videos taken right here in this country.
I can't say "The worst one was..." because they were all the worst. The one that I can't shake, though, is the live transportation for slaughter (to Europe, for meat). OK, people eat horses in some other countries, I get that. People eat cows, rabbits, chickens, sheep and all sorts. The ILPH isn't trying to stop consumption of horses, but it is trying to have them treated, transported and killed humanely.
What I saw last night was a lorry filled with horses, just crammed in, no food no water, no partitions (so they could fight, had nothing but each other to hold themselves up). Then I saw a pony, Max's size, who had managed to get himself partway over a gate in the lorry, and he was stuck.
I saw a look on his face that I often see on Max's; confusion, a plea for help "I seem to have got myself into a spot of bother here..." There was trust in those eyes, because somewhere along the line, that pony had probably had a relatively good life. Maybe he belonged to a child who outgrew him, maybe he had an owner who could no longer keep him... maybe through a series of unhappy circumstances, the various hands that he fell into cared less and less about him, until he ended up in a lorry driving to Europe so he could be slaughtered. And there he was, stuck on a gate inside that lorry. But he had a dim memory of some humans being kind to him in the past...
A gang of men tied ropes to his legs and physically, brutishly pulled him over and off the gate, scraping along his belly and hind legs and unbalancing him so that he landed first on his head, and then awkwardly on his neck before the rest of his body toppled. He looked up, dazed...
And that's when I looked away, because I couldn't watch as his "rescuers" moved forward to punish him for causing trouble.
I thought, "That could be Max. That could be any horse I know. That could be any horse at all."
It could. The history I've written above for that pony, who mercifully must now be free from suffering, is conjecture, and emotive conjecture at that. But I can see how it could so easily happen to even a much loved horse who falls on hard times through no fault of his own.
And yes, I do know it's not just horses that suffer this way, and it's not just animals either, but this is Max's blog, so this is about suffering horses and supporting those who try to make life better for them.
And in the wider world and wider sense, it's about not looking away.
Today, when Max looked at me with those clear, trusting, questioning eyes of his, I asked him if he wanted to share my banana with me. Nodding head. So we did, alternative bites until it was gone.
He's never known anything but kindness and love in his life. I pray it will always remain so.
Yes, I've made a contingency plan for Max if anything happens to me. But what if something happens to my contingency plan? And what if something happens to her contingency plan? What then? Where does Max end up if those of us who would never let anything bad enter his world aren't in his world any more either?
And now I'm going on to the ILPH website to find out how to set up a direct debit for monthly contributions to help them protect the horses who have lost their protectors. I may not be able to read the newsletter they send to subscribers, but I'll do something practical to help. It's a start.
Thursday 3 April 2008
I say "No, No, No!"
Ah, Max. From the sublime to the ridiculous. He put his well manicured hoof down today and told me to whistle for it.
Perfectly content in his box for me to do what I would (except for the undercarriage bit, which he only just tolerates), but not up for much else.
Walked to the school like a well mannered boy. Attentive, at my shoulder, paused for the gate, then through and "Max turn, head up" executed with absolute precision.
In the school? "Nah. Don't wanna."
We did some fine walking in loose, but I could see he was waiting for his chance to burst away from me and go all free stylee and uncontained.
I gave it a good try to focus his attention, but eventually capitulated and let him have his mucky roll, getting up and shaking a cloud of hair like PigPen from the Peanuts cartoon with his cloud of dust. I could just about knit another pony from the gatherings of Max's shed hair.
Carrot races? His former favourite?
"You go ahead and run lady. I like to see you sweat and I know you'll sit still eventually."
So we gave it up, did some clicker training of the things he knows well (Why did I ever teach him to say "No!" so emphatically?) and went back to his box for a chopped apple and pony nut feast (just a small one) and a tuck up for the field.
Mild today and tomorrow, but snow forecast for the weekend. Pah! English snow. It's not real snow.
Perfectly content in his box for me to do what I would (except for the undercarriage bit, which he only just tolerates), but not up for much else.
Walked to the school like a well mannered boy. Attentive, at my shoulder, paused for the gate, then through and "Max turn, head up" executed with absolute precision.
In the school? "Nah. Don't wanna."
We did some fine walking in loose, but I could see he was waiting for his chance to burst away from me and go all free stylee and uncontained.
I gave it a good try to focus his attention, but eventually capitulated and let him have his mucky roll, getting up and shaking a cloud of hair like PigPen from the Peanuts cartoon with his cloud of dust. I could just about knit another pony from the gatherings of Max's shed hair.
Carrot races? His former favourite?
"You go ahead and run lady. I like to see you sweat and I know you'll sit still eventually."
So we gave it up, did some clicker training of the things he knows well (Why did I ever teach him to say "No!" so emphatically?) and went back to his box for a chopped apple and pony nut feast (just a small one) and a tuck up for the field.
Mild today and tomorrow, but snow forecast for the weekend. Pah! English snow. It's not real snow.
Tuesday 1 April 2008
Bluster, bombast, ballast and bliss!
I am grinning from ear to ear! My brilliant boy was just stunning today.
We've been expecting dreary weather for this week. Today was meant to be sunshine, heavy showers and wind. Well, the sunshine and strong winds we got, but the showers have held off.
I was a bit worried about the wind, but decided that Max and I would try a lone hack despite it. Very willing to give in and just walk him if it proved too much.
My initial plan was to walk him out to a point, then mount up and come back home all on the lane, but I changed my mind. He was feeling quite easy going, so part way up the lane, I found a convenient spot and hopped on.
The wind really was quite high, but everything about Max felt relaxed so we went off and turned up a bridleway. I was constantly calculating in my head at which point we should turn for home and end on a good note, wary of not wanting to put any pressure on him or turn something pleasant into something stressful, but he was just foot perfect. Felt like we'd been doing it for years, out on our own!
"Ah! This is how it's meant to be!" I said to him. "You and me, out together, enjoying each other's company and looking at the beautiful countryside."
"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to write a poem y'know! I'm cool just hanging out with you."
We turned into "the sheep field" (dubbed thus because it had sheep grazing on it for a couple of weeks) and had a trot and canter round it, snorting and prancing and doing some pretty fancy footwork.
Having gone round the field, I decided to re-trace our steps for the long way home, rather than a more direct route. Max didn't complain about that, though he did want to keep on trotting.
Our only drama was on the final leg home, when a couple of enthusiastic young dogs, a border collie and a lab, burst through the hedgerow in front of us and Max did a sudden spin and run in the opposite direction (away from home and safety). I remained seated, Max collected himself in a couple of steps, and turned back to face the dogs when I asked.
This is where ballast comes in. Max's saddle slips something chronic. He's rather barrel shaped (as many Fjords and Arabs are) and he has virtually no withers. The slipping is quite a good learning tool, in that it forces me to focus on my own balance to keep the the saddle straight. I don't want to be hoiking it to one side or another like I'm kick-starting a motorcycle because that kind of move is hard on Max's back. Imagine carrying somebody piggy back and having them lean to one side and then push themselves to the other with force. Not only will it make you stumble, but it could really be quite a strain on your muscles as you try to counterbalance.
Keeping my own balance to maintain the saddle position does not help in a sudden spook and spin situation though, and I do live in fear of going out the side door. Again. Yet again!
All that aside, though, the two dogs, who even a few weeks ago probably would have left me in a ditch and left Max a quivering wreck that could not be settled were a mere blip for us today. We got over it in no time and had a steady trot for home, Max's mane waving fetchingly in the wind.
I could barely contain myself when I got him back to the yard, tack off, a quick rub down, a big drink of water, and then rug on. I tucked him in and then wrapped my arms around his neck in a big hug and told him, over and over, that he was absolutely brilliant and I could not possibly be more proud of him. And bless his sweet little hooves, he does get quite chuffed with himself when I make a delighted fuss of him!
So bravo Max, and bravo again! Standing ovation, well earned!
And bombast? Well, along with "bluster", it also means bravado and swagger, so I guess that applies to both of us. Max was full of bravado, and now, I'm full of swagger, because for all the times I've listened to the whispers that I'm too easy on him, and I don't ride him enough, and why am I always taking him out in hand, and why don't I ride him more...
Today is why. Today he showed me what patience and listening to him, letting him choose his pace and have an opinion has done for us.
Did we get a pat on the back from anybody at the yard? Course we didn't. Max is just doing what he should be doing, and about time, too.
No matter. I know, and Max knows, that today's hack was achieved without force, without bullying, without "legs, legs, legs!" without "Give him a crack with your stick, that's what it's there for!" Max just gave it to me, because he wanted to and I hope because he trusts me and likes hanging out with me.
And that makes today's success very sweet indeed.
We've been expecting dreary weather for this week. Today was meant to be sunshine, heavy showers and wind. Well, the sunshine and strong winds we got, but the showers have held off.
I was a bit worried about the wind, but decided that Max and I would try a lone hack despite it. Very willing to give in and just walk him if it proved too much.
My initial plan was to walk him out to a point, then mount up and come back home all on the lane, but I changed my mind. He was feeling quite easy going, so part way up the lane, I found a convenient spot and hopped on.
The wind really was quite high, but everything about Max felt relaxed so we went off and turned up a bridleway. I was constantly calculating in my head at which point we should turn for home and end on a good note, wary of not wanting to put any pressure on him or turn something pleasant into something stressful, but he was just foot perfect. Felt like we'd been doing it for years, out on our own!
"Ah! This is how it's meant to be!" I said to him. "You and me, out together, enjoying each other's company and looking at the beautiful countryside."
"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to write a poem y'know! I'm cool just hanging out with you."
We turned into "the sheep field" (dubbed thus because it had sheep grazing on it for a couple of weeks) and had a trot and canter round it, snorting and prancing and doing some pretty fancy footwork.
Having gone round the field, I decided to re-trace our steps for the long way home, rather than a more direct route. Max didn't complain about that, though he did want to keep on trotting.
Our only drama was on the final leg home, when a couple of enthusiastic young dogs, a border collie and a lab, burst through the hedgerow in front of us and Max did a sudden spin and run in the opposite direction (away from home and safety). I remained seated, Max collected himself in a couple of steps, and turned back to face the dogs when I asked.
This is where ballast comes in. Max's saddle slips something chronic. He's rather barrel shaped (as many Fjords and Arabs are) and he has virtually no withers. The slipping is quite a good learning tool, in that it forces me to focus on my own balance to keep the the saddle straight. I don't want to be hoiking it to one side or another like I'm kick-starting a motorcycle because that kind of move is hard on Max's back. Imagine carrying somebody piggy back and having them lean to one side and then push themselves to the other with force. Not only will it make you stumble, but it could really be quite a strain on your muscles as you try to counterbalance.
Keeping my own balance to maintain the saddle position does not help in a sudden spook and spin situation though, and I do live in fear of going out the side door. Again. Yet again!
All that aside, though, the two dogs, who even a few weeks ago probably would have left me in a ditch and left Max a quivering wreck that could not be settled were a mere blip for us today. We got over it in no time and had a steady trot for home, Max's mane waving fetchingly in the wind.
I could barely contain myself when I got him back to the yard, tack off, a quick rub down, a big drink of water, and then rug on. I tucked him in and then wrapped my arms around his neck in a big hug and told him, over and over, that he was absolutely brilliant and I could not possibly be more proud of him. And bless his sweet little hooves, he does get quite chuffed with himself when I make a delighted fuss of him!
So bravo Max, and bravo again! Standing ovation, well earned!
And bombast? Well, along with "bluster", it also means bravado and swagger, so I guess that applies to both of us. Max was full of bravado, and now, I'm full of swagger, because for all the times I've listened to the whispers that I'm too easy on him, and I don't ride him enough, and why am I always taking him out in hand, and why don't I ride him more...
Today is why. Today he showed me what patience and listening to him, letting him choose his pace and have an opinion has done for us.
Did we get a pat on the back from anybody at the yard? Course we didn't. Max is just doing what he should be doing, and about time, too.
No matter. I know, and Max knows, that today's hack was achieved without force, without bullying, without "legs, legs, legs!" without "Give him a crack with your stick, that's what it's there for!" Max just gave it to me, because he wanted to and I hope because he trusts me and likes hanging out with me.
And that makes today's success very sweet indeed.
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About Me
- maczona
- The diary of a young horse and a not quite so young novice. What happens when you decide to return to riding after years away from it and suddenly find yourself buying a horse, and a very young horse at that? Who teaches who?