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!"