You Can Lead A Horse To. . . .

Normally you could most likely lead a horse anywhere. . . But not this guy. After the child flew like a bird and landed like a boulder, I had two choices. I could either sell this beast and break her heart (yes, I was that worried about her riding him ever again), or I could ask around and see if there was anything we could do to fix this. After talking to my somewhat broken child, who told me under no uncertain terms, that she refused to give up on him and she was getting back on as soon as the doctors released her back to normal activity. So, I opted to ask around. Confident there had to be a better way to handle this guy.

As luck would have it, I ran into one of my daughter's riding friends and the girl's mother a few days later. The mother told me about a trainer that wasn't known very well known and was really young, but amazing to work with. Even though her daughter had been taking lessons from the same trainer we used to take from, she was also taking lessons from this new guy. I gladly took his number and crossed my fingers for a miracle when I sent him a text.

He responded the next morning and we set up a time to meet. I gotta say. . . He looked adorable. That probably isn't a descriptive word he would have appreciated, but it's true! He wore chaps, a leather vest over his long sleeved shirt, and a cowboy hat. He was definitely young. . . Maybe in his mid to late 20's. Yes. . . That is young to us old people.

We talked for at least an hour and a half. It turns out he preferred the natural horsemanship way. He tried to explain some of it to me, and I understood a little of what he was talking about. My daughter understood all of it and wholeheartedly agreed with all he suggested. There would be no more yelling, ranting, kicking, or punching. That part I liked. He also suggested removing him from the boarding facility and putting him in a barn at one of the private residences. That was the part I didn't like. I knew he was right in about getting him moved and I was able (within a day) to secure Gus a nice 14x14 box stall with a huge walk out area. It was affordable and came with a barn guy that cleaned and fed twice a day. Best of all. . . It was over $400 cheaper than what I was already paying. Things were definitely looking up!

Slow Speed Come Aparts!

After poor Gus got the crap beat out of him, we decided to forget about the wraps, continue with hosing his leg several times a day, and let him rest a few days. He was also put on some antibiotics and bute, courtesy of the trainer. Thankfully, the swelling went down and in a few days he was perfectly fine. However, we started to notice his comfort in cross ties was greatly deminished and he was becoming a little spooky. Nothing to alarming at first, just a startle here and there. We also noticed he was becoming a lot clumsier. Stumbling over small rocks or air. But again, we didn't worry too much. He was still adjusting to his new home. . . Right??

We continued plugging along as best we could. He still hadn't been on the trails much and my daughter didn't want to put herself or the horse in danger, so she decided to take it slow. Little bits of trail exposure here and there when she could get another friend to go with her and lots of arena work.  Being that my daughter's lessons were not in the same location as the boarding facility, she continued lessons on a lesson horse. Her trainer was not at all pleased about that and scolded her for not making Gus "suck it up and walk over". It wasn't too long before another trainer decided to join the "suck it up" band wagon and the badgering was endless during lessons. I spoke to her trainer and told her that Gus wouldn't be to coming to lessons until we were sure they would both be safe walking over, and if she had a problem with that we could always find a new trainer. She back off. . . A little. My daughter continued lessons after our chat and the nagging started again. This time it was not holding her reins correctly, not shoving her heels down enough, not putting her leg on the horse, the reins were too long. To make it more interesting, the trainer didn't just tell her these things, she screeched/yelled them at her from across the arena while she was busy texting on her phone. None of these things were true. I was there the whole time. I told my frazzled daughter I was going to have a talk with her trainer about the yelling. She begged me not to. She insisted it bothered me more than it bothered her. My daughter made it through a few weeks of lessons like this, and after a complete mental breakdown, finally decided she had enough. Three years of lessons. . . Done . . . Just like that!

We even dropped our lease on the trainer's horse that we had loved for 2 years. Yes, we still had continued with our lease when we bought Gus. My daughter didn't want to give the mare up and she had an amazing time loving and caring for both horses. But anyway, that freed her up to spend even more time with Gus. And believe me, he needed the attention. Over 2 months, he continued to change. Spooking at things he didn't care about before, needing a stud chain for control when leading, cross ties were a horrible experience, turning circles in his stall, and we noticed his tongue was sticking out so often, that it was tanned from the sun. Worst of all, he became a bolter when under saddle. The final straw was when he bolted with my daughter in the arena. He spun and took off at a gallop, zig zagged near the fence and decided to throw my daughter off. She landed on the top rail (sternum first), then went for a short hanging drag before being bounced onto her neck. Gus continued galloping to the other side of the arena until he ran out of steam. My daughter got up and walked out of the arena (even though everyone yelled at her to stay down) and we took off for a lovely trip to the ER because she couldn't move her head/neck.

Why did he bolt? Well. . . Would you be surprised to know that my daughter's trainer (ex-trainer) was coming up the path where he began his "run, forest, run" moment? Ironically, the (ex)trainer was the one to retrieve him from the arena, untack him, and put him back in his stall. We found out after we arrived home, the (ex)trainer took the opportunity to punish Gus with some more kicks for his behavior before allowing him to go back to his stall. My daughter had a concussion, some damage to her AC shoulder joint, and a lovely assortment of scrapes and bruises. That was nothing compared to what poor Gus received when we left. We felt horrible for leaving him there like that, but there were so many people that witnessed the bolting incident and assured us Gus would be fine and taken care of. I felt like I was failing them both. It was time for a change. . . But what to do??!

Gus Hits The Highway!

After finally getting the amazing Gus home to his new boarding facility, all we could do was stare at him. Omg! We were now proud owners of an 900 lb bouncing 6 year old boy. We giggled at how confused he looked to have so many horses around him, as he was used to living as a bachelor. And, the shavings! He couldn't figure out what they were and why they were there! He looked so perplexed! We gave him some food and left him to settle into his box stall for the night.

Over the next few days, my daughter led him around the new stable and tried to acclimate him to his new home. He seemed ok. A little tense, but nothing that struck us as a problem. Everyone there loved him right away and knew him as the horse who liked to stick out his tongue. After about 3-4 days, my daughter's trainer told her to jump on and get riding. The trainer told her he was fine and she should have ridden him the day after he arrived. I thought that seemed a little rushed, but what do I know? So she plopped his saddle on, climbed up, and started working with him in the arena. He walked, trotted, and loped just as he did when my daughter tried him. And, his personality! Such a super sweet boy. Not a mean bone in his body. Gus's favorite position was with his forehead touching my daughter's forehead. It was adorable. He even stood perfectly stock still to have front shoes put on because he was tender footed.

We were about 2 weeks into sheer happiness when it all started to fall apart. My daughter went to the barn in the morning and found her beloved boy with a swollen hind leg from hock to thigh. She was panicked. Her trainer was out of town until the next day, so she did the only thing she knew how to do. She hosed his leg down with cold water for about a half an hour while other horse owners debated on whether or not we should call out the vet. He didn't seem painful and was just the slightest bit lame. It was decided he had a black widow bite, as we found one in his stall near his water bucket. The next day, her trainer arrived home and we immediately asked her to check his leg as a precaution. It looked a little better, but still worried us. She said he probably cast his leg in his stall. Cast??? Isn't that the thing they plaster onto broken body parts??

The trainer was so kind to us. She said she would apply some special ointment and wrap his leg. Everything would be fine. We were so relieved. She began wrapping his hind legs and it became clear pretty quickly that he had never had leg wraps on. Gus tried his best to hold still, but he was uncomfortable and unsure of what was going on with his leg. The trainer became tired of his moving and tied him in the cross ties, and placed a stud chain over his upper gums to calm him down. It looked horrible and she assured me that people use this method all the time. After another attempt, Gus pulled his leg away and the wrap fell out of the trainer's hand onto the ground. She completely  lost it. She punched him several times and kicked him twice in the stomach. All of this happened within seconds. She was crazed. Gus in return looked panicked and took the opportunity to show us his true height. He reared so high I could see up his nose! During his rearing, he turned to the trainer and went straight for her head. Lucky for her, she flung herself out of the way. I have to admit, I didn't feel sorry for her. You hurt an animal and you get what you get.

Getting Gus

And our story continues. . . 

Even though we have a thriving horse community just minutes from our house, trying to find a horse locally was like looking for a needle in a haystack. So I asked around and multiple people suggested looking on Facebook for one. Really!?!?! To my amazement there is a page "Southern California Horses For Sale or Lease". There were so many beautiful horses, and many of them within my budget! As I started weeding through pictures and posts and descriptions and videos, I began to go blind and felt like I was losing my marbles. Didn't I already look at this one?? What is a coggins test?? Did I need one?? What level rider is my daughter?? It was so confusing! 

I finally selected a few that sounded like they would be a great match with my daughter and her riding style and abilities. I sent messages to the owners to see about setting a time to meet the horse and have my daughter "try" it out. Sadly, many of my messages went unanswered. Those that did get back to me had already sold their horse. This went on for weeks and I was beginning to think it was a sign from the powers that be. But, I couldn't disappoint my daughter and give up the search. So I trudged on and decided to take a new approach. I placed an ISO ad on the page and multiple people responded with info and photos of horses that fit the bill. That's when we saw "him". 

His name was Gus. The first thing we noticed was the tongue!! Look closely! It was the cutest thing we ever saw! And, he was a handsome fella! At15.2 hands he was the perfect size! Even the price was right! So I contacted his owner and set a time for the very next morning to drive out to try him. He was located out in Ranchita, which is about an hour (as slow as I drive) past Temecula. My daughter and I deemed it the land of shrubs and rocks. We even passed a place where they painted the "grass" green! 

We arrived at the desert ranch at 10am. It was already over 100 degrees outside and I was pretty sure we were being stalked by vultures. The owner brought Gus out, and it was right then I knew this horse was something special. Not really sure why. It was just a weird feeling. However, I had to keep my cool and remain objective and noncommittal. 

My daughter started to groom him and tack up while I cruised around him, looking at his 

legs like I had a clue as to what I was looking for. My daughter's trainer had instructed me to take photos and video to send to her. I took some of his legs from all directions and sent them via text. So far, so good. 

They walked him into the arena and my daughter climbed on. I kid you not, the moment her butt hit the seat she knew. She looked at me and nodded. I could see it in her sparking eyes! My stomach started to hurt. Omg. . . If this worked out, this would/could be our horse. . . I had to spend money?!?! As a single mom, preschool teacher and always just broke in general, I pushed my internal panic button. Was I sure I could afford this? The cost of the horse. The transport back home. The boarding fees. Farriers and vets. Feed. I just wanted to throw up and run away. But then I refocused my attention on my child. My happy, beaming child on a loping horse. She had fallen in love with him. I could tell. 

When we finished our appointment, I had a brief moment to talk to her and she did indeed confirm my suspicions. He was the perfect fit. I spoke to his owner and set up another appointment for the next day to try him one more time. The next day was even 

better than the first, not including the unbelievable heat. I sent as much info as I could to my daughter's trainer and she said he looked good. That was all I needed. A check was 

written for half his price to hold him until we could arrange for transport. My daughter 

was over the moon happy. Truth be told, so was I. Sort of.  That panic was still brewing in my mind. 

Who really knew. . .

That we would ever own a horse??? Who knew that the three years of lessons my daughter went through did nothing to prepare us for horse ownership?? We leased a horse for two years! So, of course, having one of our own should be a piece of cake! Right?? WRONG!!!!

Let me start with a little background. Our family members were all born and raised in the smoggy congested city. We have owned a ton of cats, dogs, fish, frogs, hermit crabs, snakes, turtles, and leopard geckos. Oh! Let's not forget the mice, Guinea pig, and several hamsters. We are totally pet people. Therefore, I was not in any way surprised when my daughter continuously asked for a pony from the age of 2 or 3 years. At 10 years old (she is very persistent when she really wants something) I gave in to riding lessons.

She started out once a week and had the absolute best time. She learned how to groom, tack, pick hooves, and the basics of riding. She learned to walk, trot, posting trot, and to lope. She was a happy camper, and that made me (mom) really happy. After a full year of riding, she was given the opportunity to lease one of her trainer's horses. A beautiful paint pony. The pony was about 14 hands and around 5 years old. We began with just one day a week, as she still had weekly lessons. It wasn't too long after we began the lease that we bumped it up to two days a week. My daughter could not have been more pleased to be spending three days a week with horses! Imagine her delight, about six months later, when her trainer began to ask her to take out the magical pony on days that she was not ours to use. The heavens opened up and there was a whole choir of singing cherubs! That put us at the barn anywhere from 3-6 days a week. It was amazing!

During all her rides she became confident to ride on trails alone, or she could go out for hours with her friends. They would ride from the barn to the local deli, tie up the horses, and grab some grub. She also began showing in the local gymkhana shows. My daughter was unaware I noticed, but she was always sure to see that the pony was fed, had fly spray and her fly mask on when needed, cleaned her stall, bathed the pony, and took care of the many random cuts she discovered on the pony. (The pony was a little hot headed at times and liked to kick fences and rails).  Anyway, all of these extra things she did for the pony were not expected or required by the owner. She did them because she felt a sense of responsibility. I could not have been prouder of how far she had come and how much she had learned.

It was only the next natural step to finally give up and consent to start looking for a horse of her very own. That is where our story really begins.