One foot, two foot, red foot, blue foot...

I'll have to come up with some way of distinguishing them, though I haven't resorted to dye yet.

With the skies threatening again, and Max having a right grump on, decided to hang out in the school together with no real plan, then try some clicker training if Max was amenable.

First he wanted a roll, and then he was a demolition pony, knocking down all the jumps that had been carefully set up with a polite notice asking that they remain untouched. Max was having none of that! Just headbutted them over, then picked up the poles in his teeth and dragged them around.

After he got tired of that game, we got down to some clicker training. I continued on our attempts to get him to lift his front feet, following my raised foot as an example. First I did this standing next to him, touching the leg that I wanted to perform the action, while raising my own corresponding leg and saying... well... "Foot".

We had tried this before with the hula hoop with some success, and again today, he caught on pretty quickly, and was eagerly raising the correct foot in turn when asked. So I moved to stand in front of him, and pointed to his leg rather than touching it, whilst raising my leg at the same time.

Max watched with his "I'm concentrating" face on, and after a pause, mirrored my movement.

Clever boy! We didn't spend too much time on that after he'd had a couple of successes, and moved on to carrot races just for fun.

Finally, as I led him back to his field after our session, I decided to have one last go while he was outside and surrounded by distractions.

Again I stood in front, again I raised my foot while pointing at his and he tentatively lifted his left, then his right in turn, when asked. I was in the midst of giving him a big fuss for being a clever boy when he looked at me in a curious, intense way and then slowly raised his left hind and held it up, as if he'd made the logical leap that if I was pleased about front foot raises, I'd be bound to pleased about backs, too.

I said "good boy, Max" without a click because I hadn't asked for it, but I did want to praise him.

Went and stood by his hindquarters, touched his hind leg at the stifle and said "Foot" as I had with the fronts, and up it came. Same on the other side. My response was enthusiastic, and there ended the lesson. Max was released to his pasture but offered his nose for a kiss goodbye before wandering off.

A gent and a scholar, my boy.

Enough with the rain, already!

Man, this weather is getting old!

Today started off with sunshine and warmth, the first we've seen in a while after relentless rain. When I got home from work I checked the BBC weather satellite picture, and saw that rain showers were expected in our area by about 4.00 pm, and reckoned Max and I would have plenty of time to get a hack in while the weather was fine.

Took him out of his box for a grooming session which took a little longer than I'd have liked because the disgusting boy had been having a snoozy doze, apparently using a pile of droppings as a pillow. He had to have a sponge bath, and I spent ages getting yuck out of his mane, off his neck, off his cheek.

"You dirty boy!" I chided.

"Get off!" Max grumbled back.

"You're going to have a bath on Saturday, you mucky thing!"

"I think not."

Finally we were off! Walked in hand down the lane because he'd been a bit stiff on his stifles, then mounted up and turned down the bridleway. Unfortunately we'd seen Another Horse from our yard go out before us and turn down the same bridleway, and Max was eager to keep that Other Horse in sight. But we were slow and we lost him.

Max and I got into a tussle with our equally strong but opposing views of where we were going next - he said turn back for home, I said go forward. Instead, we turned and turned in circles until Max gave up and decided it was easier to listen to me than continue to get dizzy not listening to me.

He sighed, gave in, but let out a mighty bellow!

"Hey! Other Horse. I have to go this way. She's mad, I tell you. Mad! If we're not home in half an hour, alert the authorities!"

After a little more coaxing, he settled back in and relaxed. I was making a great show of breathing in deeply, holding for a few paces, then exhaling audibly. The notion is that the horse will often mirror his rider, so if I'm not breathing, Max will hold his breath too, and hold tension as well. By actively concentrating on my own breathing, I automatically (in theory) send out a more relaxed vibe to him, which will in turn cause him to relax.

It works. That's all I can say about it. I watch Max become easier, I feel the tension leave him, and I hear him begin to snort the kind of snorts that don't mean he's on alert, but he's just happy to go forward.

We were almost home when the rain hit us in sheets, with strong wind driving it. It was actually about five minutes before four, so the BBC weather satellite is NOT accurate to the minute!

Max got pretty uncontainable then, and I don't blame him. He started straining to get home at a a quick trot, and was spooking at speed at every leaf and stone. I managed to get him back to a walk and hold him there. Much as I would have liked to get home quick smart, I didn't think it was safe to do so (we were going downhill on an uneven track) even though I was very aware that my beautiful suede saddle was unprotected.

We arrived home safely within about five minutes, and Max happily munched his small pear reward, while remonstrating me with his eyes for getting him wet and at one point raising my voice and telling him to stop pratting about and listen! I apologised to him for that and meant it. Raising my voice to him is not something I want to do, any more than touch him with a whip or be rough with my hands. It just happened in the heat of the moment because he scared me, but it shouldn't have. My mistake, not his, but we will leave it behind us and move on.

I think my biggest weakness when it comes to Max is fear, not of him, but for him. As he was trying to trot down the slippy hill and I was trying to calmly bring him back, all I could think was that he'd slip and hurt himself. I don't get scared about what might happen to me, but I do get scared of what might happen to him. I need to work on that, I know. He's not helpless, and although sometimes clumsy, he's a pretty sure footed wee man and I should give him more credit, trust him as much as I ask him to trust me. Really, he just wanted to get home out of the bad weather, and who can blame him. There was me asking him to go against everything his instinct was telling him. And bless him, he did it, though being hollered at shocked him a bit, I think.

Funnily enough, once the saddle was off and he was unfettered in his field, getting wet didn't seem to be a problem for Max the muncher.

Still, a plea from my waterlogged pony and me: "Rain, rain, GO AWAY!"

U.H.R.I.

Stands for Unidentified Horse Related Injury. I think all of us who spend much time in the company of horses carry at least one U.H.R.I. on any given day. Bumps, bruises, grazes from non-specific equine calamities with the lovelies themselves, or with their accoutrements, including wheelbarrows, pitchforks, water buckets and the like; all can be walking into, tripped over, or cause a spook that leads us back to the horses, their big dinner plate feet and ability to chin you when you least expect it.

I've got one of those today, only it's not unidentified. An encounter with a sticky gate as I was taking Max to his field. It's always a bit tricky to open, especially with one hand. Today, the spring and a washer shot out with force, and the handle itself whacked into my wrist. By the time I'd stopped saying "ow!" and had a look, it was already swellng and changing colour. Since I can type less than an hour later, I don't think it's broken.

Managed to shut the gate with just the handle thing stuck through, and took spring and washer to YO's husband, who is the one who fixes things. Actually, saying I can type, just beginning to feel it's quite painful to type... Ow again.

Fairly successful afternoon with Max. We went back into the school for some walk and trot work and as he fought me at turns, we ended up doing loads of figure of eights at trot. He really handled them well and seemed quite eager in his response to this new thing. Not really new, but we haven't done it in a while, or concentrated quite so much on repeating the exercise on both reins. I faked him out a few times so he wouldn't just get the hang of where to turn and anticipate. He started paying attention and reacting very quickly to my direction, which was achieved with very little pressure indeed. Very nicely done!

At the very end, I took off his saddle and we had a few turns at trotting bareback. I just wanted to feel his muscles working under me and concentrate on really getting the feel of moving with his body.

He'd worked up quite a sweat and was tired of all the trotting, so I cut the bareback excersise short, took off his bridle and sat on the bench so he knew it was OK to roll.

A quick sponge down before the field, a small pear as a parting gift and then "whack" U.H.R.I. (the "U" in this case, standing for "unexpected").

Time for frozen peas for my wrist, and chocolate for me, I think.

Max 2 - Fly Mask 0, Me 1

Naked Max greeted me again this morning. Not only had he removed his fly mask, he'd somehow also removed his forelock plait.

I trudged through the field, scared lots of bunnies, but no fly mask.

I got on with yard duties, finished, went and trudged around the field again. No mask.

"What have you done with it , Max?"

"With what?" big innocent eyes.

"I will find it, you know."

"Don't think so. Concede!

"Never!"

One further field forage, by a friend who had some spare time. Her return to the yard was triumphant, one intact fly mask held aloft!

Where was it? At the bottom of the water trough, that's where. He tried to drown it!

I went over to his box and showed him.

"Look what's been found, Max."

"Drat! Thwarted!"

That's upped the ante. He's not wearing it this afternoon because it's quite windy and rain is predicted, so flies not such a big problem.

It will be interesting to see what Max's riposte will be when it comes. I fear the fly mask may not remain intact much longer.

Max 1 - fly mask 0

My boy's unmasked face greeted me over the fence this morning.

"Heh, heh, heh!"

"Oh Max!" I scolded with disappointment.

"And there it is! SCORE" Max fairly crowed. He didn't even have the decency to look contrite.

Then the imp proceeded to jog behind me as I did my field search.

"Nope, cold. Getting colder... ah, warmer, warmer... Um. I'm going back to the gate now, 'k?"

He hoiked it off on a fence post, and completely ripped one of the fastening straps. I may still be able to get it to stay on though, so I'll try tonight with one strap and a plaited forelock and see if that gets us anywhere.

Don't fancy my chances really... Sigh.

He's a very naughty boy!

Fly masks and forelocks

Bit the bullet and bought Max a fly mask today. It's called "Max Field Relief" so it is just for him.

It's a bit more lightweight than the ones he trashed last year, covers his ears, and even has a little flap that covers his nose, too, so the little blighters can't climb up there when he's grazing. We'll see if it's still there tomorrow. Has sticky outy bits around the eyes, too, so that it won't press in on his eyelashes. Hopefully that's a bit more comfy for him. Having worn spectacles for years, I know having something constantly bumping against eyelashes is danged annoying!

Other yard bird commented today that perhaps Max whips them off because his forelock is so thick and coarse, it could get a bit scratchy and uncomfortable. That's a very good point, and if the fly mask is still alive tomorrow, I may try doing a loose plait in his forelock so that isn't an issue. Either that, or cut a hole at the top maybe, so I can pull his forelock out?

Was running late today, so no work for Max, just a big grooming session and lots of fly spray. He had a few welts from bites today, so obviously the biter blighters are out in force now.

Not great to miss a day of exercise, but every check I do is fine, and I still can see the outline of his ribcage, so I'm trying not to panic over lamni risk. Deal with the horse you've got in front of you, not your idea of what the horse might be.

Those words could come back to haunt me, I know, but there's a lot to be said for being in between 7.00 am and 4.00 pm, which cuts down on grazing time during prime alert periods.

At the tack shop today I got talking to one of the sales ladies, and it turns out that her Arab had a carcinoma on the end of his willy, and ended up having to have about three quarters of it removed. She's in the same boat as me, with a horse that, in her case, can't drop (because there's nothing to drop), but she's really had no problems and thought it was pretty amazing that Max let me do what I do to him, because hers won't stand for it.

It is a comforting to think that the main problem for Max must have been the ledge, now removed, causing pooling inside the sheath rather than what is going on on the outside. He just isn't anywhere near as bad as he used to be in that area and a quick wipe with a damp sponge is all that is needed.

Slathered him up with petroleum jelly on his boy bits to create a barrier, then anti-fly gel on his belly and hinds to further discourage, and regular fly spray everywhere else to give him a few hours of relief until the evening comes and the biting stops.

Fingers crossed I have an intact fly mask tomorrow morning. I will take a photo and post later.

Cool hooves, cool pony

All is well with Max's feet. This morning, anyway. All four, equally cool, but still we must keep the exercise up.

Today, Max and I ranged around the countryside for about two hours. We spent the first hour with me leading him in hand, and the second hour riding him. The ground is really hard at the moment, so it was just walking. I really hadn't intended to be out quite that long, but after the jitters he's been having, it was good to have him relaxed and forward going, so forward we kept going.

We even chased a fox! So is that natural equine behaviour, or just Max?

I remember, when he lived in the field by my house, watching out the kitchen window as Max and his Fjord mum rounded up and chased a fox out of their field, and then did a victory lap together, bucking and cavorting to celebrate their triumph.

Today, we spotted a fox on the path ahead of us. I think Max and I both saw it at the same time, and Max stopped briefly, then without prompting from me, started jogging towards the fox with his head slightly lowered. Not in a menacing way particularly (Max really can't do menacing though he does try), just up for another chase, I think.

Fox scampered away into the undergrowth, and Max and I carried on our way.

It's been a beautiful afternoon and Max was a star. I'm off to do a victory lap of that field I can see from my kitchen window in his honour.

Hot to trot

This morning when I collected Max from the field, I felt his hooves first thing,. It's a first rudimentary check for laminitis. Not particularly accurate, but a place to start, along with checking digital pulses, watching how they walk and stand, just generally being observant of any potential red flags.

This morning, he had one front that felt a teensy bit warm while the other three were all cool. No major alarm bells there, he could have been standing in the sun, he could have been having a lie down with that one curled into him, it could mean nothing at all.

I mentioned it to YO and I will remain vigilant for the next couple of days, but if it continues, we'll move him to the "pony field" which has very little grass. Max does have a grazing muzzle, but he is Houdini at removing himself from it, so a paddock with very little grass is a better option for him.

I'm not overly concerned, but laminitis is something I don't want to enter his life, so I will do whatever has to be done to make sure it doesn't get a look in.

The best way to fight it, really, is to keep one's horse fit and at a good weight. This is hard to do with the Spring grass coming up, but if the balance of calories spent outweighs or is level with the calories ingested, you're on to good, basic preventative management.

So Max is going to get his gorgeous bum in gear and work!

Today that meant ridden in the school. Cool day here, though dry, and in we went for 45 minutes, which we will build on with other activities. Today, it was ten minutes walking in, 30 minutes of non-stop trotting, and another five minutes to cool down.

Oh there were protests, all right, but we got there, and we did some good work. Mainly, we concentrated on me, my balance, my seat, and we got some good results from that. I've been revisiting my book by Heather Moffett (Enlightened Equitation) and trying to fine tune my position, how I breathe, how I absorb Max's movements with my own, and it really is quite amazing when I hit the right stride with him. The fighting stops, the fidgeting stops, his head comes up, his ears prick up as he listens and it feels like we're floating.

It was an encouraging start, and Max, as always, was very eager to know at the end if he'd done well. Very well indeed. Because there were no distractions, I could correct him with the gentlest pressure from my hands... pressure, response, immediate release of pressure. Timing is everything!

Was told at the end that he wasn't sweating enough, but I will ignore that. He was sweating under his girth on a cool day, he is relatively fit anyway and could have kept going if I'd pressed him. I didn't want to press him because he's young and eager to please and I don't want to chill his groove when he's working well and trying hard.

We are building him up, not blasting him out, so we will approach this in the same calm and thoughtful way we try to approach everything we do together. It's meant to be fun!

And he doesn't have laminitis, I just don't want him to get it. It's worth keeping that in mind.

Hoop scoop whoop!

Another day of audacious brilliance from Max the Magnificent!

I reintroduced the hula hoop today for some clicker training in the school. Max hadn't seen it since his pre-op triumph, so I thought it would be a good way to get him focusing again. I thought we might have to go right back to square one, but no, not so much.

A few raised eyebrows at the yard "What are you going to do with that?" but it was eager, interested questioning rather than sceptical. Some at the yard are grudingly coming to understand that there is method to my madness. What Max will do for me is beginning to speak volumes.

We started off with just touching the hoop, holding it at my waist level, then raised above our heads. Max was obliging. Then on the ground, and he did his old trick of picking it up in his teeth and giving it a shake.

Then I rolled it away, and asked him to touch again. He trundled after it, picked it up and gave it a shake.

Then more exuberant hoop tossing, way up so it landed with a bounce. Still Max would amble after it, all snaky necked and give it a good rattle.

Then we tried a bit of one foot in, then out; other foot in, then out. I showed him first by moving his feet for him, saying "foot" (maybe have to come up with a better command, but no matter). After being shown, I stood, placed my foot in the hoop and took it out again, then said, "Max, foot."

Blow me down if he didn't paw the ground and then, whether by luck or judgment, place his sweet little hoof into the hoop and out again.

Goodness me, what a standing ovation he got for that! He was so enthusiastic about the response that he had to pick up the hoop and give it a mighty shake. The shake was, in fact, so mighty that the hoop left Max's mouth and slipped over his head and slid down his neck.

We froze, looking at each other in startled surprise, Max still as a statue "What the...?"

"Oh Max! That's BRILLIANT!" I enthused, and gave him a big ol' jackpot of ponynuts, which he ate eagerly, then snorted and nodded his head with the joy of it.

I carefully removed the hoop, telling him quietly that he is quite possibly the most clever pony to ever grace the earth with his presence, and then with a final flourish, held the hoop up at head level and gave him the "Kiss" command. He gingerly poked his nose forward, through the hoop, to meet mine. We had a smooch, and an extra strong mint was offered as his final prize.

I think we were only at it for about fifteen minutes or so. A very short session, no real exercise, other than jogging after the hoop, but it was definitely good enough for me. The boy is well on his way to being back on track, and he really does seem to enjoy learning new things and having a think. I so enjoy watching him work stuff out and I really do think I'm blessed with a terribly clever pony.

The final big whoop for today was having a check to see if he needed undercarriage cleaning. I haven't given him a clean since last Friday, so crouched down to have a look. Bonus number one, Max was not even slightly bothered by my investigations. Bonus number two, he did not need cleaning! Hurrah!

Oh all right, if you insist!

Having taken some advice from horse loving friends, today I took Max back to basics to see if I could find that willing pony with the fancy moves.

So today it was indoor school and in hand ground work. Just concentrated on walk/trot/halt transitions. Max larked about a bit at first, with misdemeanours met with silence, gently turning him back to where he went wrong and trying again, and good work met with loads of praise.

He rose to it! We did some brilliant work once he settled in, then finished off with some loose clicker training of stuff he knows really well so he could "hit the jackpot" with a handful of pony nuts.

Also threw in a new thing we had started working on before the op. I ask Max to stand, and then walk away from him, around him, set up distractions while he stands still and watches. Then I stand at some distance, gesture towards myself with a command of "Forward Max".

He looked nonplussed at first, so I crouched down and repeated the gesture and command. He will always come to me if I'm crouched, and after only a couple of attempts, I got the same response standing. Clever boy!

Only half an hour of work, but we ended on a high, we were having fun together, so it was a good time to call it quits.

Took him back to his box for a few carrot stretches, then put the left over carrot slices and a small pear in his feed bowl. Man, can that pony find a pear in a hurry! Took the whole thing in and looked up at me with delight, mouth completely stuffed full of pear "Nom, nom, nom" as he chewed with relish. Finished off the carrots, smeared me with pear slobber as thanks, and then out to his field, one happy pony and one delighted me.

Buck you, mum!

Max has rediscovered his inner wild thing. Not in a stampeding, tail held high way, but in a rebellious “I don’t think so don’t ask me again” two fingers up way.

Yesterday we tried long-lining.

“What’s that?” Max asked as I approached him with our kit.

“That’s your roller Max. Remember? The lines go through the rings and clip to your bit here, and then…”

“Never seen it before. Please tell the help I’m ready to go to my field now. Run along, now. Scoot!”

This was not well received, and I did get him into the school where we attempted long-lining to no great effect. He either feigned dramatically being choked by his bit, or with what seemed like determined resistance, did the opposite of everything I asked; turned left when I asked for right, stopped when I asked for go, trotted when I asked for walk, came to a complete, implacable, immovable stop if I asked for walk.

It would have been a wholly frustrating session if I hadn’t been laughing at him so much. Eventually, when he went into one of his trot strops, I just let him trot round and round me in circles until he got tired and stopped. So I sent him away again.

"Go on then! You want to run so much, go!"

"I'm done with that now, and you aren't the boss of me!" is the interpretation of the replying buck Max gave me as a parting shot.

Today we tried riding in the outdoor “jump” field. So called because there are practice jumps set up, but it’s a big field on a slope, so I thought we’d try some schooling in there rather than the dusty indoor arena.

To Max’s mind, this was just an opportunity to graze while wearing some inconvenient leather strapping and a rather irksome rider.

He wore me like a hat.

Resistant to everything I asked, fought every direction and when I finally just let him go his own way to see where he’d take us, he stopped in mild confusion, then tried to eat.

“Max,” I sighed with exasperation, “this is really simple stuff. We know this inside out, back to front. What are you playing at?”

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I will.”

"All right, we're going to trot up that hill and work that back end," I muttered.

The back end started working all right!

"Are you bucking, Max?"

"Who wants to know?"

We are paying for his two week post-op break, and also, as Sammie’s mum gently pointed out last night, we’re probably paying for a clever pony who figured out that I’m a soft touch when I’m concerned about him and he’s come to enjoy the leeway that’s given him.

Any frustration I feel now must be directed at myself though, not Max. It’s my responsibility to get us back on track.

And where you go, I'll follow...

I rode Max today for the first time in at least three weeks. We've had our two and a half weeks post-op break from riding, and in the week leading up to his op I was concentrating on ground work. I'll be sore tomorrow, I reckon.

We probably only did about 20 minutes to half an hour - didn't want to push him on first day back into it. We had intended on going on a mini hack, following The Ent, but Max was a little clumsy on his feet and definitely showing signs of insecurity, and we could hear a lot of dirt bikes roaring along our usual bridleways. Sadly, this is always so in fair weather at the weekends.

Then we happened across a resting paddock, a bit hilly, very empty, in familiar territory, but quiet. Ent asked the YO if she'd mind if we worked Max in there, and she was agreeable, so that's what we did.

We walked in and around, then a bit of trot work, and finally, a few grand little canters. We're not brilliant at cantering yet - both need to work on our balance, but we'll get there and we're in no rush to work it out.

Max's best game today was following his leader (the Ent). Ent was walking backwards, facing Max, and Max was mirroring his every move, turning whichever way the Ent turned, slowing down or speeding up to match the Ent's pace, with no direction from me at all and very little rein contact. I couldn't let him go completely because the second I did, cheeky monkey got his head down and started grazing!

I told Ent he should be quite pleased with that display of equine trust and companionship (and playfulness was involved too, because it is Max that we're talking about).

I was disappointed to feel my feet creeping up and back while riding the trot, which means I was gripping up and pitching forward. Sigh. Thought we had that one pretty much licked, but I need to take a few steps back and get the stability ball out again!

Finally, at the end of our ride, Max had a shampoo. He did NOT like it. First time he's been hosed down this year, and although he was getting accustomed to it at the end of last summer, he's obviously forgotten and was most affronted. Although saying that, he did remember his old trick of trying to get the hose in his teeth to launch a counter-attack.

Still, the dust, sweat and grease is off him, his tail is clean, and that's got to feel nice!

Somebody doesn't like jabs!

Poor ol' Max! He had his post-op vet check today, and he has developed a new aversion to getting jabs in his neck. Never used to bother him, but when he saw our kind vet approach him with a syringe in hand this morning, he gave me the "Please no. Not again! Don't let him do it!"

Breaks your heart, that stuff.

Mentioned Max's reaction to the vet and he was sympathetic. "You've had a gutful of jabs in the past couple of weeks, haven't you , mate?"

But in it went. Vet needed to have a proper look, and best way was with Max mildly sedated, because he was not agreeable to the rummaging in his nethers otherwise.

Awful, really, because I guess the needle just went in a bit awkwardly, and Max started bleeding. I hate to see that. He wasn't that bothered, but a little trickle of blood running down his neck, and vet joking "Ooops! He's hemorrhaging!" while I took a big gulp and tried not to cry.

Nothing that dramatic, really, but a little lump developed at the site, which had disappeared by this afternoon.

Then the lolling head, the deep breaths and... Ta Da! A mini drop! We expect geldings to drop their gear when sedated, but Max, still, can only drop the very tippy tip. Still, miles better than he's been able to do up until now, so that's good enough for me.

Vet commented that Max is "a little on the small side", but the tip is all some geldings ever do, and it's enough. Also said that although everything is healing and looking good on the outside (removed a couple of wiry stitches that were still hanging on), inside Max's sheath is still a bit tight because of swelling and scar tissue, so we may yet see some improvement.

Whether we do or not, I'm very pleased with how things have gone, and vet said he's delighted, too. No more pooling of urine inside which eliminates a whole world of trouble in the future.

Clean bill of health. Carry on as normal, riding is fine, letting him have a roll in the school is fine, long-lining is fine.

Asked about sheath cleaning and was advised to keep an eye, but try just once a week for now, keep him slathered up with fly repellent and leave him to it, no fuss. After a while, by my own judgment, I may determine that even once a week isn't necessary. Suggested I use proper sheath cleaner (as natural as I can find it) rather than boiled water allowed to cool, because I need to cut through the grease and get rid, which water won't do. I also don't need salt because antiseptics should no longer be required for him.

Today we didn't do anything. Ent away at football today, and I didn't really want to work Max after sedation anyway.

But from tomorrow, Max's fitness regime begins afresh. He hasn't blown up and developed a big ol' grass belly during his recovery, and I want to keep it that way. In these dangerous laminitis prone days of Spring, it's important to make sure that Max is burning as many calories as he's eating.

Poor bug. Hopefully that's the end of any intervention for him for a while, and we can just get on with things now. He's going to be a much more comfy boy this summer, and though he may not thank me for it, I am delighted that we took a risk and made Max's world a safer, more comfortable place as a result.

Physio and fly spray

Max had an appointment with his lovely physiotherapist today. I have him checked every three months or so, just to make sure everything is well with his muscles and joints. Had never heard of such a thing when I was growing up with horses. I don't even know if there was such a thing.

The physio and I discussed the view by some more conventional horse people, and vets for that matter, who see such "alternative" therapies for horses as a bit horse huggy hippy. She was telling me about a vet she knew who did acupuncture on horses with great success, but was viewed with suspicion (and probably snickers behind hands) by some of his colleagues.

But why not? Left to their own devices, horses are probably fine. But we ask them to wear tack and a rider on their backs, we ask them to bend and turn in ways they wouldn't if left to their own devices, and are they not just as likely to feel the consequences of this in niggling aches and pains as we are sitting at a desk, or repetitively hoiking pitchforks full of sodden straw on to a muck heap?

I was particularly keen to have Max seen to after his op. A hoist, a general anaesthetic, and placed on his back, legs akimbo for the procedure. Not a very natural position for a horse.

"Not much wrong here!" physio said. "He's robust!"

He is. He's robust, and he's young and he bounces back but I still want to keep on top of anything that might cause him a problem later. Much of what is deemed to be "bad" behaviour in horses relates to pain that they are feeling that they can't tell us about. Ill-fitting saddles, unbalanced riders, unkind hands (which I hope I don't have), gadgets to strap them up and hold them into a "correct" position, too much work on one rein and not enough on the other...

Max is such a picture while his 45 minute session is going on. Like he's trying to decide if he likes it or not, while he is manipulated, stretched and prodded. Some of it he really does like, much he's curious about and turns to see just what the heck this familiar stranger thinks she's doing holding his front foot up and then making him hop! Snort!

Lots of little clicks as she settled him in - each time I winced, Max looks surprised, and physio said "Ah! That's it! Good! Perfect!"

She has such a lovely way with the horses on our yard, too. Always time for a soft word and a cuddle. Her little dog came into Max's box with her, and settled in the straw, while she got to work, and I stood at Max's head.

Anyway, no problems really, a few little cricks worked out, but nothing to be concerned about. When she'd finished, I just took him to his field and let him go. It's counterproductive to work him after a session, and tomorrow, another gentle walk, maybe a little trot and we're good.

Our vet is coming on Saturday to give him his post-op check. I expect he'll be sedated again to have a good look at his secret places, but I'm sure everything will be fine. I will feel better after the vet has checked though, and given me the all clear for riding, though I won't be rushing to hop on board straight away. We will continue to slowly work at building up his confidence again, and riding will be kept to a minimum for now. I love the groundwork anyway, so no drama about that.

And fly spray! Yes, today was the first day the fly spray came back out, along with my realisation that it's time to stock up because I hardly have any left. Lovely to watch its application chase away the few that were bothering him though. A bit of aloe vera spray for his tail where he'd been rubbing, a bit of milder face lotion to keep the blighters away from his ears and eyes, and a great slathering of antibacterial fly gel for his sheath to keep them away from there, too.

No fly mask yet. I'm not sure if I'm going to invest in one this year (or five, as it usually turns out because he trashes them so quickly). I love letting him go to his field knowing his eyes and ears are protected. I hate spending half an hour the next morning trudging through a huge field trying to find where he has ditched and trampled on it, to assess whether it can be salvaged or is only fit for the bin.

At any rate, the flies aren't quite bad enough yet to worry about it, so I have some thinking time.

"Maybe this year you'll realise it's for your own good and leave it alone don't touch?" I ask, hopefully.

"Sure, give it a try. Danged thing gets in my way! And I do so relish watching you come back to the yard carrying a tattered thing and looking all despondent. 'Oh Max!' you say, all forlorn. Heh, heh, heh."

He's got a wicked streak, has my Max.

Max wishes his godmum a Happy Birthday!

With a poem.

Ahem.

"Roses are red,
Violets are blue...
I'd send you some polos...
But then there would be less for me!
And that can't be right, can it? Less for me?
If I was deprived, that would probably make you sad, wouldn't it?
Well, that flies in the face of the whole concept of Happy Birthday!
If I actually went and made you sad instead of happy, that would just be wrong.
So I'll keep my polos and you can be happy.
Glad we got that sorted."

Max is unclear on the concept of sharing, and metre and rhyme for that matter. But it's hard to fault his logic...

The boy done good!

Gold star for Max today. Maybe two!

Yes, we definitely took a few steps back in our progress after the operation, but we've gained some ground over the weekend, and taken a big leap forward today.

Stunning Spring day here in Hampshire, all the beautiful colours of the countryside, a light breeze (with occasional gusts) and hardly any flies. Perfect weather for an unaccompanied stroll.

I gave him a little clean before we left and he didn't need much. Just a quick swipe with the wet cloth and aloe vera on afterwards. Our new ritual is easily done long before Max has munched his way through his chopped carrot and handful of ponynuts. The bonus today was another step forward in his recovery. Willy watch has come up trumps with a fleeting glimpse! Not a full drop, nowhere near it, but a tiny little peek as he finished relieving himself this morning (one day I'll stop looking, I promise).

That is so hopeful, I think. I sent an excited text to Sammie's mum straight away and got a "Woo hoo!" straight back. She pointed out that it shows he's trying, and that's better than he's been ever been able to do in his life thus far, so it's very good news indeed.

As for me and my contingency plans, I started off with a very simple and limited agenda. I'd just walk him up the lane and back. That's all. No pressure, no trying too hard to achieve spectacular results, just a short walk there and back again, so to speak.

But he was going well, seemed comfortable, so I decided to take him up a bridleway. Just a little way, I thought, then turn for home. But we got a little way, and I thought we could go a little further, so we did.

In the end, we were out for 45 minutes, with no calling, no spinning, no fighting, no stubborn streak. A little bit of trepidation, an occasional stop which was not a refusal, but a desire to stand and have a gaze, a couple of shoulder nudges, a lot of "good lad!" praise and no attempts to graze!

As we turned for home down a shady lane, the wind picked up and Max became playful. He did his proud Arab trot which showed no fear or anxiety, just excitement. He was easily contained though, and as we turned back onto the lane which led home, I picked him some cow parsley prizes to munch along the way. Finally, an easy trot side by side. He moved beautifully and did not pull or turn in on me even once.

I've just let him out into his field with a polo mint and a "God bless, be safe tonight" and am feeling very satisfied with our efforts. Am so pleased with him and, though I hardly ever admit it, pleased with myself, too. For all my fear that I was mad to take on a horse when I knew so little, and for all my anxious nights staring at the ceiling in the dark, wondering what I'd put Max through and how I'd bring him back to his confident self, well... We just seem to be doing it.

Partners. We work together, we cut each other some slack, we forgive mistakes and move on. We are not conventional horse and rider, but then again, I've never loved conventional, so why should my relationship with Max be any different?

There is still a lot more I don't know about horses than I do know - and I kind of like that, lots to learn! - but what a long way I've come from May 2006 when I took that leap of faith and bought Max because I just couldn't imagine letting him go.

Watching him trot so beautifully and peacefully beside me, our footsteps in sync, I had an ear to ear grin knowing I did the right thing making him mine, and making me his. The worry I had that Max would do so much better in a more knowledgeable home was for nothing. Nobody could care for him more than I do, and nobody could give him a better life than he has with me, and his good friend the Ent. His perfect, relaxed, happy trot told me so.

We're both exactly where we're meant to be: together.

The Gift

Today is not about the adventures or antics of Maximus Mischevus, wayward pony, but about the home-loving contented boy who makes me catch my breath with his displays of trust and affection.

I had intended to take him out for a walk after the yard work this morning, but he was having a big ol' snooze, curled up on his thick straw bed like a pussycat. We used to call it "Smauging" when Arizona did it, because the pose is so reminiscent of Smaug the dragon, from "The Hobbit", curled around his hoard of treasure.

At their most basic, primal level, horses are prey animals. Their overpowering instinct when alarmed will always be flight, not fight. When they are sleeping, they are at their most vulnerable.

So the fact that Max allows me into his space at all when he's in the Land of Nod is pretty awesome. That he'll let me sit by his head and talk to him while he looks drowsily on without any thought of scrambling to his feet to protect himself is a tribute to how safe he feels with me.

After our little chat, I told him he didn't have to get up, but I stood, slowly and quietly so as not to rouse him. I stood next to him and gave his neck a scratch under his mane. Max sighed, then leaned his head into my leg and went to sleep. Eyes closed, nose in the straw, proper sleep, while I continued to stand and play with his mane.

To say I was honoured doesn't begin to cover it. I stood like that with him for just shy of fifteen minutes, looking at this really quite huge creature nestled against me like a kitten. I felt like I was guarding him!

Max is my unicorn. The horn may be missing, but there's no shortage of magic.

Gumption Junction

Max hasn't got his mojo back, but it must have sent him a postcard from wherever it's on holiday because he did find some grit today.

Ent's cricket game got cancelled, so we had a bonus accompanied walk today and though there was still one girly wail from Max before we left the yard, and he fairly dragged his cowardly bum up the lane, once we turned onto a bridleway, he seemed to relax a little. We had a couple of struggles trying to turn him towards unfamiliar territory, but he gave up and gave in pretty quickly.

We were confronted by three dirt bikes, an assault from the rear. There was nowhere safe to move Max to one side on the path that we were on, so the Ent turned him back and led him toward a fork in the paths, and towards the dirt bikes. Thoughtfully, all three bikers, having spotted us, stopped and switched off their engines to give time for Max to find a safe spot. Once we'd reached the fork and turned off, I thanked the bikers and waved them on. Max stood his ground and didn't do the Riverdance of Fear. One small flinch in the hindquarters when the engines roared into life and that was it.

We did quite a bit of off-road today, and some good hill work, so things are looking up.

Photo is Max and I admiring his high viz boots. I had to carry one of them part way home myself. He decided it was irritating him, reached down and pulled at the velcro with his teeth to unfasten it. "Off I say! Off!" He didn't mind the other three, just that one. At least he let me have it, rather than hurling it into a field never to be seen again.

Princess Maxine, Big Girl's Blouse

Who's a pretty mare, then? He's sure acting like a girl, so we might as well start calling him one! Maybe I'll get him some of that pink sparkly hoof polish (yes, you really can get it, and no, I don't know anybody who does).

The Ent and I took Maxine out for her Saturday constitutional today and she squealed like a fan girl that had just spotted whoever is squee-worthy these days. High, breathy and a bit out of control.

"You big jessie!" I snorted in reply.

We hadn't even left the yard yet! He had barely left his own box.

Around the back way, stopping to touch the horse box (he was fine at that) then out towards the lane and another quivering soprano call that started out so high only dogs could hear it, and ended in a tremulous whimper.

"Max, you're being silly," the Ent tutted.

We pressed on with two objectives for Max: keep going, no eating.

After we got past the pigs and the pond field, his previous turn around point, we coaxed him on with the battle stone in mind. We stayed on the lane the whole way so as not to tempt Max with grazing material and he settled in eventually, still looking on fairly high alert, but moving forward consistently with no planting (there was a lot of planting at the beginning of the walk).

Our target reached, we turned for home, and the Ent and Max had two fairly long and well

controlled trots, side by each, while I dawdled behind, watching the two of them moving easily against a background of lush green fields and the vibrant yellow rapeseed that is starting to spring up everywhere. I picked some cow parsley to reward Max with when we got back to the yard.

I love the colours this time of year. Rolling hills of green and yellow everywhere I look, with the occasional purple of lavender crops, to be followed, later, by the scarlet of poppies.

We'll try again tomorrow, with just me and Fearless Max. It will be more challenging because he really seems to enjoy his double bodyguard. No point deciding it won't work before I try though, because I'm defeated before I begin.

The stitches are becoming more evident now, which must mean they're about to ping. I do hope once they've gone, we might see a little more improvement in Max's plumbing. He needs to get his mojo back.

Time Travel without the TARDIS

We've done it. Max and I have successfully travelled back in time... I'd say about six months. Sigh.

It is not a good thing. It is a bit of a depressing thing, actually. I've taken him to two walks in hand on our own, yesterday and today. To say he is reluctant is an understatement. He even called today to nobody in particular, and he hasn't done that for, well, about six months, I guess.

Will just have to start over again and hope we can fast-track back to where we were only two weeks ago. Actually, fast tracking doesn't really matter, either. it will take as long as it takes.

His manners have gone awol as well. I think that is just clever pony realising he's on to a good thing with concerned mum and sympathetic yard birds. I'm getting dragged and barged, and the occasional giant arse swipe of irritation. These things I can deal with swiftly. Getting his confidence back will take more time.

Hopefully he'll get the all clear from his regular vet next week, so I can at least start properly longlining again. That will go a long way to setting us back on the path of righteousness.

Max wore his high viz shiny boots today for the second time, but you'd think it was the first. Kept picking up his legs to look at them!