A Max in the hand helps Max in the bush

Mr Max and I are OK. We couldn't get in the school straight away today, so we did a bit of in hand on the yard by the muck heap, which I thought was probably a good idea anyway, if he has a problem with the school. Just mix things up a bit.

But then the school became free and in we went. I left him go free and he took himself off to the far side of the school away from the door.

He did spend some time looking confused and distracted. I used his headcollar rope at first, getting him to touch it, moving it over his back and hinds and giving him clicks. He was tense, but stayed still at least and didn't flinch.

Then we did a bit with moving quarters, and his mood and focus improved as he got more and more praise, and finished with a bit of backing up. Really short and sweet and he was looking pretty relaxed by the time we left.

Just the way I like him!

Snow but smoother sailing

Yesterday at the yard was pretty brutal, and I'm up early today to decide whether to walk to work rather than drive. So much snow! Pah! I'm not worried about my driving, it's all the other yahoos out there I'm not sure about!

Needless to say, nothing really done with Max. It's a shame because it's not really the best time to take a break, but the weather is beyond my control.

I did have him in the school on Sunday though, and we made some headway with the left rein evasion. I lined first, and I was a heck of a lot firmer in contact than I usually am. He was fine with that and went very nicely - even worked up a bit of a wet mouth.

Went into half the school on the lunge and tried right rein first, which was cool. I think I want a longer line, although I'm not sure if I'd just end up tangled in it. We're not using the whip any more, and although I took my stick in, I didn't use that either. I did use the end of the line though, either circling it like a lasso, or coming up close and flapping it as his bottom if he wasn't keen to get his energy up. It worked. Not as effectively as waving the whip behind him, but we'll worry about those details later.

On the left rein, oh yes, we had evasion. We had tries at evasion, anyway. I can always see it coming - he looks to his right, his right ear twitches that way too, like he's planning his route, he then appears to be coming into the turn as he should, and then just turns and goes the other way.

He tried that, twice, and failed.

Again, I was a lot firmer with the pressure of my hand and as he got to the point where I knew he was going to try it on - I can feel the tension in the line as well - I am not sure exactly what I did, but I did it both times and it worked. It involved squeezing the line like I was wringing out a damp sponge, yelling "Oi!" and a little jump (no, I don't know why the jump either, it just happened).

After that he looked a few times, but a squeeze got his attention back, and lots of praise for going round the bend without trying it on and then he stopped looking, and just got on with it.

By no means do I think we've cracked it, but it was a start. It also doesn't touch his Arab Mist problem out and about. Little steps.

We did a little ridden after that, but I cut it short as another rider came in with her TB and I knew Max was distracted by the company.

We tried a little rein back with putting my weight back and that brush of the legs forward and good golly! Back he went! Also did a bit of trot (only using half the school) changing diagonals and keeping my legs off his sides and we remained in a steady pace rather than going faster, faster, faster... Hard to tell though because we weren't at it for very long.

If the school is decent, I may try that with him again today. I expect I won't be up against a lot of people wanting to use the school because nobody will dare drive over to the yard.

With the ridden I tried the firmer contact too, and I think it helped. He does fight it though - when he starts putting pressure on the bit I find it really hard to not loosen my grip because I don't want him to be uncomfortable.

My horse, my mirror

Bless my dad. Talked to him on Friday night and he'd been off to his retired vet friend talking to him about Max and his bumps in the armpits. He also commented on Max's behaviour recently and said, "If I read you and Max right, then I think you'll get through this with thought and patience. He's teaching you a lot about how to deal with your own stuff as well as his. He's holding a mirror up. Can you see what he's showing you?"

My dad then reminded me of when I was a kid, and would get so scared of things unknown...

"But dad, it it's like he has a panic attack, and I can't bring him back from that."

"Who does that remind you of, eh? You used to do the same, and it would break my heart, how anxious you'd get. It would take ages to talk you down. You've got to do that for Max now. You've got to remember and use that experience of how you felt to help Max. You'll help yourself, too."

"Huh. Yeah, I get your point, but I was a tiny girl, and this is half a ton of muscle and crazy."

"Yes, but that's your lesson. Max feels what you once felt. You mirror each other and he's in your life big and bold. How did you feel? How can you make him not feel like that? He's your pupil and your teacher. It's about patience and trust. You've got the foundation already so build on it."

Max has definitely taken my head down some roads that have changed my mental landscape, made me look more closely at him, and at myself. He will mirror me literally by adopting my stance for a click treat, but as my father wisely points out, Mirror Max reflects so much more than what is physical.

Tears and a clown

Proper tears from me, and not the happy kind. Really upset about Max yesterday. He got so distressed in the school, like he was having a proper panic attack, whites of eyes, blowing, the whole thing. He stood leaning against his muzzle on my shoulder, and blowing for ages while I tried to calm him down. We just walked together for a long time too, because he was so sweaty (he had been working as well).

I finally got him back with clicker training, going over his really well known tricks - eyes eventually focused, offered his tricks, got his treats. At first I had pony nuts out for him and he wouldn't even look at them.

My poor Max. I'm finding it really distressing.

We were going along OK, started by lining, then onto a smaller circle around me and again, on the left rein, evasion. I know he's going to do it, I can see when he's setting himself up for it, and I try gentle vibration of inside rein to counteract, but if he decides to go for it, I've got nowt unless I pull on him, which I won't.

So after a few failed attempts (and I admit to getting frustrated, trying to hide it, but there's isn't much I can hide from Max) we went down to single rein and lungeing. Disaster!

He evaded again, I tried to counter, I raised the whip up (nowhere near him) and he lost it!

We had Max galloping up and down the school, climbing the walls, proper freaking out.

I dropped the whip (of course) and tried to calm him, but he wasn't having it. Got close enough to take the line off and he set off again. I just didn't want him to get his feet tangled up because he was hooning around the school like he was chased by demons.

So, I kept him going, worked on changing his direction with my body until he ran out of steam.

He finally stood I collected him and put one line on again. He was stiff with tension, wild, white rimmed eyes, really tall and blowing like mad. I know he'd been running, but this was something else on top of the exertion.

I patted his neck, held out a few pony nuts but he ignored them. He just kept staring wild eyed. The one teensy bit of comfort I got was when he set his nose on my shoulder and just stayed there while I leaned into his neck and asked him what was troubling him. Tried to be as soothing as I could, but he wouldn't settle.

That's when we just walked, around and around the school. He was present, polite, but not with me.

I had been hearing some commotion outside of the school, but I thought it was hackers coming back onto the yard, and I knew YO was doing the ins and outs on the yard, day horses coming in from the fields, night horses going out.

So yes, there were distractions, but not enough to get Max so flipped out.

Once his breathing slowed, I asked him to stand, and we went through a few of his clicker training party tricks. I couldn't think of anything else to do, and it seemed worth a try.

As it happens, it was the right thing to do, because it worked. Desperation and instinct won the day!

I could still see the concerned, unfocused look in his eye, but he gave me little, worried, contained versions of his usually extravagantly performed trick bag. Tiny nods of yes, teensy head shakes of no, front feet lifted to match mine, and clicks and a pony nut for each.

His eyes started to change. Still worried, but my Max again, an expressive face that I recognised. He focused and saw me again. He remembered who we were together.

So then I wondered about the whip. It seems to be setting him off, and I don't know why. He's never been hit with it and he's never been scared of it before.

So we walked over to it and I picked it up. Straight away, arched neck and tension, wild eyes again.

"Max, touch."

He did.

Held it over his head.

"Max, touch."

He did.

Took it apart, laid it on the ground.

"Max, touch."

He did.

I don't know what's going on with that. I'd only just gaffer taped it together to cover up the spot where he'd chewed on it because it is just a thing that is no bother to him. He's never been alarmed by the blasted thing. So what's changed?

I talked to the Ent about it last night and said again, "He's never been hit or threatened with it, I don't understand and I don't even know if it's the proper issue he has, because that's not what sets him off when we're out on hacks."

Ent, who is also really concerned about the situation, and I mean in a proper "What's wrong with the boy?" way rather than a "dangerous horse way", said, "Maybe somebody else has scared him on the yard."

That's not a thought I want in my head, but honestly, I don't think so. In fact, I know that's not possible. I can't see how anybody would get the chance let alone have any reason to make Max feel scared.

YO takes no nonsense, but she would never threaten him or mishandle him; I know she wouldn't. I talked to another yard worker about it today too, and she said she can't see how, because Max never gives anybody any reason anyway. He goes into his box like a dream, and he comes back out and goes to his field with no hassle. He might make a grab for the hay stock, but he's not aggressive, difficult or stubborn. He's one of the "no trouble" horses on the yard.

Anyway, when he was calm enough, we left the school and I walked past YO and another livery owner who were thankfully immersed in conversation so I didn't have to answer any "How was he?" questions. I was going to say "Fine" breezily if they did, but didn't know if I could trust myself not to just cry instead. I felt like crying. I did cry later with the worry.

Got him sorted, rubbed him down with a towel to take off excess sweat, and when I was happy that he was calm and warm enough, I took him out to his field.

What I found out though, when I came back from the Max's paddock, was that something had been going on when Max and I were in the school, and the commotion I'd heard wasn't hackers returning to the yard.

YO told me that she was collecting a mare from the Long Field (just outside the school) and she saw our warmblood chestnut gelding properly attacking his field mate, an old retired hunter, about 27, in the Cottage Field across the lane.

Don't know what's going on there, because those two have been field mates for ages, and the warmblood has been with us for over a year and has never done anything like this before. He had the old boy pinned against the hedge line and was going for him hammer and tongs. Old boy was fighting back, but he's a gentle old soul and didn't really have a chance.

YO ran and got another yard bird and the two of them separated warmblood and old, brought old boy in to check him out for damage. He had a bleeding nose, but probably a scrape from the hedge nothing more, and some serious bites on his neck. He was otherwise OK, just a bit shocked.

So, where does that leave us? Was Max freaking out as a reaction to what was going on between the warmblood and the old boy? Maybe. I didn't know, although I was aware of something going on, but Max is much more sensitive to sound and horse vibe than me, so perhaps he did. Maybe.

Today... well, today was hard and busy. Six horses to muck out instead of four but I made a break between half nine and half ten to try again with Max.

We had a word in his box, first. Told him he really mustn't worry, he couldn't do anything wrong, and we are just going to figure it out together no matter how long it takes.

I ditched the whip. Might bin the blasted thing if that truly is the problem. Got all his stuff into his box for long lining, kept with his Pee Wee bit for now, took my dressage whip for pointing. Showed it to him, did "Max, touch" a couple of times to make sure he was cool with it, grabbed his mint lick in case he had another moment, and off we went.

I put his bridle on when we got to the school, sorted out the lines then too, put the stick down and, as it happens, never touched it, and we went right back to basics. Complete basics.

We walked around for ages, changing directions and snaking through the three jumps set up in the middle of the school. Every now and then he'd set off on his own course, and I'd let him, then gently bring him back to my intended course.

We've lost "stand" again. Not sure why, but we worked on that a bit and it was better when we finished. We came round on a smaller circle for very short bursts, and then back out. We did transitions from walk to trot back to walk.

The whole time it was clicker, treat for good, a pat and a fuss for a good try, and when he evaded (which he did, a lot, and always on the left rein) I remained silent, followed him on his evasion, snaked him back through the jumps back to where we started, and tried again.

Great enthusiasm from me, lots of praise, lots of soothing and some fairly good, but no aerobic work from Max. No matter.

So my assessment today is there is a problem, but I can't work it out. He's a LOT better without the whip, although very low energy. That's OK, can work on that.

He still had something in his eye telling me there is some kind of niggle, but I can't work it out. It is always left rein and I don't know why, but suspect it must be me. Must be something I'm doing but I don't know what. Blocking him? I'm not too harsh with my hands and I can't feel anything in his mouth bothering him... maybe the bit? Not sure.

Anyway, for what it's worth, it was a very good session today for Max's head and mine. Really easy going, no drama, lots of hugs and clicks, lots of reassurance and encouragement and some pretty slick moves from Max.

He was all about long and low today, I noticed that. I'm not sure what to do with that observation other than continue to observe.

So what I've gathered from all this is.... no whip, no "lunge, lunge, lunge" him. None of that. No riding him out, either, until I have more of a handle on what's going on.

Well, I say that. Tomorrow, depending on how things go, I will line him again, just like today, and if it all feels really calm and lovely, I may try to just ride him up the lane and back at the end. I will take the head collar with me (I won't need it, he'll be fine unless we have a low flying helicopter or escaped pig - can't tell you how I know that, I just know).

If I ride him at the end tomorrow, big "if", I'll have to decide in the moment, I will do a bit of work in the school on trot with my legs off his sides and see how we go.

Might be ambitious for tomorrow though, actually, now that I'm thinking of it. May just do the same as today, because today was pretty calm and positive. Maybe put some poles down that he can walk through and over, just set up so he can do it right and feel safe and clever. I want to set him up for success and rebuild his confidence in himself and me.

Was also thinking today that maybe Max sees me as a comrade more than a leader. Maybe there's a respect thing going on? I'm not sure because he is pretty careful about my space and moves so well when I ask him, he's always polite; but when he was freaked, although he stuck close.... if he truly saw me as his leader, would he still be so worried?

Does he think I can't protect him and make sensible decisions for safety that are worth following? Does he think he has to protect me so feels added pressure in that sense?

Am I over-thinking? I tend to do that.

I want to take whatever this anxiety is away from him. I could just wail and moan about this being down to the fact that I'm lame, but I don't think it is. Something is going on beyond me being inadequate.

Thing is, I almost hate to say this... as much as I am so distressed by this situation, there's a part of me that is fascinated by it too. Not by seeing Max upset, because that just cuts me up, but by trying to figure out the way round it, and by comparing yesterday's disaster to today's encouraging session. OK, we were doing baby steps again, travelling well trodden ground, but still...

We had fun together today. Yeah, there was some objection and rebellion, but it was dialled way back down and it worked.

Short and sweet

Max was quite good today. Just his bridle in the school, in hand, working on active inside rein (on both reins), and a bit of stand.

He got that look of confusion and concentration when we're trying something new, but was very happy to give it a go. Did a little work on "head down" toom which he got really good at. Started with me lowering my hand to the ground and him following, ended with me standing at his shoulder saying "head down" and down it went.

After that we went for a very short walk on the lane, just from the back of the yard to the front, but lots of opportunities to gently bring his attention back to me without it being challenging or particularly stressful. A good start, I thought.

Mad Max Goes Mental (that Arab Mist)

My boy needs to go to reform school. He is a delinquent. Sigh.

The Norwegian Fjord horse is laudably sensible. All four feet on the ground, opinionated, yes, but steady and sure. That should be Max. He looks Fjord, he acts Fjord, but he is not a purebred Fjord. No, he is a cross-breed, and his sire was an Arab racer.

Unlike Fjords, Arabs are hot-bloods. Excitable, sometimes flighty, sometimes a bit loopy.

Hence the Arab Mist. For all that Max is affable, comical and totally sensible, in times of stress, his Arab heritage kicks in, and that is a force to be reckoned with.

Took him out for a wee hack at about quarter to nine this morning, in the middle of the yard work. Figured it would be a good time to go, because nobody's really about then, so lanes are quiet. Then as I was getting ready, YO said it was good to go early because the farm next door was having a pheasant shoot, meeting at about 10.00 so proper start at 11.00. Good to get Max out and back before all that commotion happened.

We were fine. Not one nap, not any hint of trouble. I went past the neighbouring far and then turned left down a slippy bridleway and let Max pick his way. On we went, he stopped and tensed, and then a jogger and dog came into view. We watched them approach, let them pass and Max moved on easily.

We kept on, getting to the point where we'd turn into a field and make our way home but Max froze. I couldn't see anything. He twitched, nodded his head but wouldn't move forward. We were like that for a while and I could feel the tension building in him, but could really see nothing. At times like this, I can feel his heart beating.

For all I know it was some beaters preparing for the shoot to come, who knows, but although I could see nothing, Max was definitely not happy. I didn't want an issue when we were doing so well, so I turned him and we headed back the way we'd come. He did a scoot, like he was being chased, but settled down pretty quickly.

Then we were fine again. Perfectly content, detoured into a field, decided it wasn't a good place to be because it looked like a crop field, so back out again. Max was completely obliging and relaxed.

Approaching the lane to turn for home, I heard sing-song shouting. Max heard it too and pricked his ears, but kept moving forward with no hint of reluctance.

"Just kids" I thought, "They'll pass. We'll be fine."

It wasn't kids. It was people from the dairy farm across the lane chasing the cows into the barn with yelling and "Gee ups". Then the cows started to run (little flashes of black and white through hedge and thundering hooves -- well, cows, so not exactly thundering).

STAMPEDE!

Max lost his sh*t.

He turned and lurched forward; I tried to re-direct. He scrambled up a muddy bank to our left. I thought I'd come off then but stuck on somehow. Max couldn't get through the hedge at the top of the bank, so we half turned and slid back down. Thought we'd both tumble and fall but we didn't.

I tried to turn him back towards the lane (the cow stampede was still happening) and he stood up twice. Not straight up, proper rear, but lifted, hovering front legs with powerful surge building in the hinds like he was going to launch. Thankfully he didn't launch. Whether that was down to me saying, "No Max, not this!" or whether it was me realising that my legs were instinctively coming up and my knees were gripping, so then forcing myself to relax my legs back down long and loose stopped him from launching, or whether he just thought better of it, I don't know.

Then he spun and ran back into the crop field. I got him to stop but he was twitching. The noise was still going on behind us and I just kept thinking if the b*stards would get the flippin' cows in and shut up I could deal with Max.

I sat and thought "I can't go forward, because I already know there's something ahead he doesn't like, and I can't go back because of the stampeding cows, and I can't just stand here because he's going to do a Catherine Wheel in a minute. What do I do? Think! Think!"

I tried to calm him so I could figure out what to do, and that's when he started going backwards in tight circles. Proper cow pony stuff.

All very impressive, the moves he was making. That is, I would have been well impressed if I had asked for any of it, but I hadn't.

Kept my ear on the farm and when Max was standing still again, I decided to get off... half slid, half got launched, but landed on my feet still holding the reins.

Clearly staying on board was not helping and my only hope was that he would feel more confident if I was on the ground beside him.

Then I walked him home, very carefully, while he pranced about like a tit. A really strong, really wired and unfocused tit, all arched neck and straining, barely contained power.

It wasn't easy. We got to the lane and had to let a couple of cars pass, another jogger with dog, and then a car which stopped ahead of us with driver's side door open, and remained open while occupant went to look in a field.

Max was not happy with that at all and wouldn't go forward. Then we had another car come up behind us and the bugger drove right up our arse with impatient motor revving. Max pranced and snorted like a stallion.

I had to ask the driver to please keep his distance and be patient while I sorted my horse. Driver rolled his eyes at me and drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, but at least he stopped creeping up on us.

Car ahead finally moved on, so Max moved on and I got him into a lay-by to let arse behind me drive past, and then Max and I jogged home. He was my Max again, nudging my shoulder, looking straight at me instead of where he was going, eyes completely calm. I relaxed then, knowing I could get us both home safe.

He doesn't even look like m Max when this Arab Mist drops over him. His whole body changes, the way he holds himself, the way he feels. Even his eyes look different, like he morphs into some psycho pony.

Can't have this, it's not safe for either of us. Don't blame him at all for spooking at mystery yelling and running cows, but not being able to bring him back to me and focus is no good.

I can't control our environment, so we need to be able to deal with the unexpected and get through to that Arab brain. It's not like he hasn't been spook-busted.

Max is mostly sensible, affable, kind and well mannered... But when he truly loses it, he's scary.

Haven't lost my nerve yet, but feel I'm teetering on the edge of it.

A friend has suggested doing some work on inside rein to re-gain focus, vibrating until ear cocks and then stopping. She said I could try that with clicker as an exercise.

This problem with Max seems to have been creeping up on us for a few months now, and needs to be nipped in the bud before it turns into a proper issue.

The Ent doesn't want Max and me to go out alone again until this is sorted. He thinks one or both of us will get hurt. He might be right about that. So far I've managed to keep things together and get us home, but it's been luck and grim determination.

If Max is just badly wired though, how is anybody going to help us?

I know I have to make it work and make Max trust me enough to feel it is safe to listen to me even when he is scared or excited.

It's overwhelming to think about it all now, so I'm going to have to just do it a bit at a time.

But for all that, he's still my best boy.

The Arab Mist

Just back from the yard, where I had a word with myself after I let Max into his field. I was only with him for about an hour and a half, no riding, just grooming and having a feel of the lumps in his armpit. They aren't any bigger, but they're still there. I'm using my finger as a guide - they (feels like a cluster of little lumps making one biggish nobbly lump) take up about the top of my middle finger, from first knuckle to finger tip, so if it starts going beyond that, I'll know it's growing. Have been reading up on sarcoids and Liverpool cream.

Don't want to read too much though, because there's no point getting into a panic about sarcoids if that isn't what this is. No harm in knowing a little bit about it though.

I'm trying not to look every day because I might not notice a change then. On Tuesday, Max (bless him, he's such a good boy) let me crawl right under him to try and get a proper look. There really isn't anything to see. I can feel it for sure, but really nothing distinguishable to look at. A little raised along the edges now and feeling a bit like a scab, but under the skin it seems. I'm not picking at it but he still has no problem with me fiddling about.

On Wednesday, I had enough time, and the weather was fine enough to take Max out for a hackette. The bridleways are still pretty bad, so I knew we wouldn't get up to much, but I just wanted him out of the yard and out of the school again to see how we went.

I made a turn up the left bridleway thinking we'd go to the top and come back along the edge of a field, but there was a tree down, so we turned and headed back for the lane. Walked on a bit, past all the scary stuff, and he was fine. A bit alert, but nothing unmanageable at all. Ducked aside a couple of times to let cars pass, and he waited patiently, and moved his hinds out of the way when I asked.

I guess we were only out for about half an hour, 40 minutes, got up to nothing spectacular, but I was happy with it - calm ride, a wee stretch outside the comfort zone he seems to have established for himself, no drama. I put his jingle bells back on (it is December after all) and did consider that the little bit of noise might be helping us a bit. Definitely gets into a rhythm with his movement, makes a little noise to distract him from other noises, and it's hard to be uptight when I'm listening to Max jingle. It's a happy noise and it makes me smile to hear it.

Then I got back to the yard and another livery owner (who really is very nice and I don't want to diss her) said, "Back so soon? Did you have a nice walk?"

"Brilliant, really lovely!" was all I said but I thought "Why emphasise 'walk' like that? Why not say 'Did you have a nice ride'?"

I note here that I am perhaps a bit prickly and over-sensitive, especially since this woman is always telling me about where is safe for a canter in these wet conditions.

Her hacks are different than mine. She goes far afield and trots, canters, little jumps if she can find them. Fine with her old TB who has seen it all, and also fine with young hunter she shares, who regularly goes on hunts. Not fine with Max on his own. Not fine with me, either.

Course if the going is good and Max feels right, then yeah, I do the trotting and little bursts of canter too, but mostly my hacks are walking hacks. Is there some law that says they shouldn't be?

So that stuff has been going round in my head but I dismissed it. Then again today, as I set Max out into his field I thought, "Really should be riding or schooling, really should be spending more time with him. Poor Max."

Then I looked at him having his big glug of water and sauntering off to find The Boss after giving me a sloppy wet nuzzle. We'd had a great grooming session, he did some showing off, he had some attitude, he made me laugh (loads). He was affectionate and comical, same as he always is.

So there I was guilt-tripping and I thought, "Stop! Look at him! Happy, healthy horse. Not bothered. Yep, he does like to spend time with you, but he also likes to do this: just be a horse. He's fine, he's content. Stop with the back chat! You are giving him a good life."

By most standards, even mine, Max is one of the lucky ones. It doesn't matter that I don't spend every waking hour with him. He doesn't need me that from me. It's fine that he will sometimes go two whole days in a row without me "working" him. What does he care? He doesn't.

Yes, I've got an agenda of things I'd like to be better at, but even if I was better at them already, the way my life is right now, I still would have to sometimes go two whole days, or three, without taking him in the school or riding him because even with all the ability in the world, if I'm going to do something with Max other than groom him and have a cuddle, then I don't want to be under any time pressure to do it. That's my thing. Hate to feel rushed myself, and hate it more when I'm with Max because I know no matter how hard I try to move slowly and present a calm front to him, the clock watching always goes on in my head and that is not good for either of us. It's not harmful, but it takes what should be a leisurely, enjoyable thing for us and turns it into something else.

Then I think about how when I was a kid all I wanted was a horse. If you told 12 year old me that she would one day have a horse of her very own, the horse of her dreams, and not be spending hours and hours and hours riding every day, she would think you were insane.

But I'm not a 12 year old girl any more. I have tons of other obligations and responsibilities now and frankly, young me was a really good kid, but she knew very little about the difference between the dream of owning a horse and the reality of properly caring for one. She knew nothing of the weight and promise of that responsibility. She would not consider spending time feeling bumps in armpits. She would not worry about hoof trims and wonder where she could get training to rasp herself for her own peace of mind to ensure those hooves were the best they could be. She didn't know anything about how a saddle fit and less than nothing about bits. She knew nothing about worming schedules, feeding regimines or the dreaded laminits.

Neither would she watch a horse and sense discomfort. She would not walk into a box, see her adored horse of the moment and think "Hmm... something doesn't feel right here. What's the trouble?" and start investigating.

She also didn't have a bad back, or fingers that tingle and go numb so she can't really feel the reins or the contact properly.

So I shouldn't be listening to that young, uninformed child when I look at Max. She was very eager and had such a good heart, but she was a bit naive about the ways of the world and although she loved horses with all her heart, she knew very little about them, other than that they crept into her heart with nameless comfort and promises of freedom and open hearts ripe for devotion.

When it comes down to it, if you had gone back and told 12 year old me that she'd have her own horse one day, she'd have been grinning from ear to ear even when you told her about all the other worrying and stern stuff.

That part of my young self I can certainly hold on to! For all my world weary worry, sometimes it is 12 year old me that gives me a kick up the arse: "Get on with it! Make it so! WE HAVE OUR HORSE!"