Top Is Just A Little Different

Top is turning 13 this year, that's what his papers say. Top is maybe 2-4 years old, in his little bitty brain. (Okay that was unfair, cheap shot). Top is very very steady in some aspects. Very well rounded. In other ways he's very young.

This evening I was lunging him. Another horse was being lunged. The owner of the other horse stopped, and let her horse roll. Top was trotting along, saw this horse flop down and roll. He put the skids on, and looked as hard as he could at this horse rolling. He wasn't scared or worried. More fascinated, and confused. You know, horses don't do that in the arena ever, at least not in Top's world apparently. He looked at me, looked back at the rolling horse, as if he was saying, 'Look can you believe this, he's rolling.' I told him, "You're good, walk on." And off he went, not a problem. These kinds of things come up every now and again for Top. Like he's seeing something for the first time and a bit baffled by them. Not worried, not falling apart. Just taking it in, trying to figure it out.

A week or so ago, I did see the Top that got dropped off at my place at Christmas. I felt really bad for him. I had him tied outside his stall. I was grooming him, getting him tacked up to go to work. One of the girls that had had him came by. She was standing there talking. The longer she was there, the more antsy and upright Top became. He started to fidget. He was on hyper alert, head up, eyes huge. He would flinch when you touched him, or moved. I thought, what the hell is going on with you.

One of my students that helps out with Top was there. She says, "Wow, I haven't seen Top like this since you first got him. He's a mess." Of course rocket surgeon that I am I didn't make the connection for another five minutes. I put my hand on his haunch to move him over. Apparently he wasn't moving quickly enough for the previous owner. She steps forward and smacks him. He hops to the side with both hinds together, and blows a little through his nose. I think, 'great pour salt on the wound you moron'. Do I say that, oh hell no wuss that I am. I say, "He's fine, just give him a second. I'd rather have him think about what he's doing than rush and do the wrong thing."

Needless to say, no good work out of Top that evening. Big, blowing and rushing. Held through the back to the point the canter was pronky. Poor guy, really doesn't regroup well after he's spun. He is getting better.

This evening he relaxed enough that the canter lost the lateral quality while still on the lunge. I usually only get that quality of canter under saddle where I can 'help' him.

So, not this weekend but next I have another Carrie lesson. Actually I'm going to do two. One Saturday and one Sunday. We'll see if he can work at that level two days in a row. He really does much better up at Carrie's. Not once has he been the spin cadet he is at the barn in town. Even the first day we arrived there, and I tied him to the side of the trailer. He relaxed, kind of let down and let the air out slow and long. Interesting. The stables in town are really tough for him.

He's pretty good in town if there isn't a bunch of weirdness going on. It's not that activity bothers him. I've taken him to the roping arena. No problem. Ropes swinging, steers flying past him with horses right on their heels....no big. Barrel racers flying around the pattern, and sliding to stops near him, not a problem. So, what is the variable that cooks his brain in town?

Shikos Shadrack II

When Shad was young I used to take him for walks. I didn't have a horse to pony him off of, so we would go for walks. Most of the walks were pretty uneventful...some were borderline scary. The first time a walk went bad, we were walking down a short stretch of curvy paved road, to get to the woods. There was a drop off, down into the trees. Shad was a yearling. An older beat up green truck was coming up the hill toward us. The truck slowed down, I thought they were being polite. As the truck got abreast of us...the driver honked the horn and gunned the engine. Scared the crap out of both of us. Shad jumped sideways and off the embankment we went. Steep with small trees. We got stopped, and had to half crawl/scramble up the embankment.

Well, I'm pissed. Scared and pissed. I take Shad home, put him up. I head into the house, and I'm rifling through the kitchen. The owner comes in and asks what's going on. I tell her the story. Then I tell her I'm looking for sugar, I'm going to go find this truck and put sugar in his gas tank. She kind of cocks her head, and says, "Why don't you use Karo syrup, it should have the same effect and there will be no tell tale signs of sugar granules." (Breeder is old enough to be by mom). I head out Karo Syrup in hand on the green truck search. I find what I'm pretty sure is the truck. I start to have second thoughts...like what if this really isn't the truck?

I head back to the house. She's waiting for me. "Did you find the truck?" I nod. "Did you put the Karo in the gas tank." I reply, "No, I was worried I could have the wrong truck." She starts to laugh at me. And tells me, she figured by the time I found the truck I would have come to my senses, whether it was the right truck or not. She put the Karo back in the cupboard.

Another time we were almost back to the house. Shad decided to have a fit and fall in it. He started leaping around on the paved road two blocks from the house. Has a big enough fit, he falls down. Scares, me. So, I'm cussing at him...checking him over to make sure he's okay. This guy is standing in his front yard watching this. He is smoking a pipe, has a close cut beard and glasses, and is looking down his nose at us. He says to me, "You know he's just being an animal." All superior, like I shouldn't be upset. So, I walk up to him, leading Shad and hand him the lead line and say, "Then you deal with him." The guy is now holding the very end of the rope, looking shocked and sort of panicked. Shad I swear can smell fresh meat. Puffs himself up, all archy looks this guy dead in the eye...and blows/snorts in his face. The guy looked like he was going to wet himself. I grabbed the lead line back and say, "Yeah, that's what I thought." Shad and I headed back off down the road. Shad is very pleased with himself...I tell him, "You are such a good boy." Ah, a partner in crime. How good does it get?

Shikos Shadrack

I started to really understand the hot/sensitive issue in my mid to late 20's. I had a very hot, young Arab gelding. We struggled. I was unfair, and I'm sure incoherent to him for a long time. And he was tenacious, snotty and had a sense of humor. If you blew it, he punished you for days. Vindictive little shit.



I swear he had spacial intelligence. He'd flat creep you out sometimes with what he understood, and did. He disliked most people. He'd pick who he liked, and who he didn't. There was no mistaking what his feelings were. Mostly he was just disdainful of stupid people, and stupid behavior...pretty much like that his whole life. He was more civil about it with age though. (He learned that it was really not okay to chase people you don't like, or bite them, strike them or kick them).


I got him at 9mths old, I was I think the third or fourth owner. (Not a great recommendation). Shad was exquisite. Truly a beautiful horse. I was sure I was going to have a 15.2 or 15.3h Arab. His mother was a solid 15.2h, maybe bigger. Moira (Shad's dam) was very pretty. At 18mths Shad was 14.2h. At 10yrs Shad was 14.2 maybe 14.3h. lol

I met Shad when he was probably 3 days old. He already thought he owned the world. At an hour old he kicked the breeder with both hinds, and then turned and looked at her. He was a chestnut with two high white hinds, and a narrow blaze that dribbled off one side of his muzzle like melted ice cream. When he was really young, I swear he looked like a fruit bat. Giant eyes, tiny muzzle and very upright smallish ears that were tipped.

We got along pretty well from the beginning. I'd moved into the breeder's house, and part of my room and board was helping out. She had two stallions. One AQHA and one Arab. Both very nice boys. Shantar was Shad's sire. 14.2h sturdy stallion. Great mind, easygoing...pretty much happy with everything and everyone. Always the gentleman. The only time you'd seen him at all wound was when it was time to breed a mare. Then he was still Mr. Manners, just puffed up and a little talky. Oh, and he didn't like dogs. Dogs were open season as far as he was concerned. I was riding him bareback out LP land. We rode through a rural neighborhood. Now Shantar was a pretty cush ride...usually a hair too round. I see a St Bernard. Shantar strolls by like no big. I'm thinking, wow not even a snark face at the dog...we get about 3 feet past the dog, and Shantar drops, and wheels around snaking his head, and stomping his front feet. Old bastard nearly jiggled me off he was so round. His back kind of shifted and rolled with the motion. Scared the St Bernard, who was really just lying in his own driveway minding his own business. So, that would be the only thing I would fault Shantar on. Didn't like dogs.

Moira was Shikos Moira. Tall, elegant chestnut mare. She was later a pretty impressive endurance horse. She was one of the quiet, pleasant easy to work with mares. At the time I thought she was boring. See what you know at 22 or 23.

How two such lovely parents could spawn snotty Shad is beyond me. When he was little we called him 'His Nibs'. But boy he was flashy and pretty. Smart too. Learned really quickly, but was easily bored by routine. If he got bored, he'd find ways to entertain himself. He was a biter for awhile. If you smacked him for biting, he'd come back twice as fast again. Just to make sure you were serious I think. If he did anything naughty, he had to do it twice in rapid succession, testing you I think. That too passed over time...unless of course you were new.

So How's Your Day Going?

Top seems to be truly over his cellulitis. Hopefully, I will find time to work and ride him tomorrow. Will have to see what comes up. Cat is home. Not exactly in the condition I expected. Okay, not at all in the condition I expected. She has a gash over her left eye that looks like it should have had a couple stitches, and has been healing for awhile. She is lame at the walk, and her feet look like hell. She is mentally a basket case.

I don't know how many re-treads this mare has in her. Of all horses to have it go bad for...shit. I'm pissed. My friend that had her has a ton on her plate at the moment, serious tough crap on her plate. It doesn't excuse the condition of my mare, but now is probably not the time to talk to her about it.

Cat is almost as worried as she was when I first got her. It took over 10 minutes to get her to stop hurrying away from me, stop and put a halter on her. Well, actually you don't put the halter on Cat. You stand at her left shoulder, open the halter and say..."Put your head in here." I have no idea how I'm going to get a bridle on. Yup, we're back to less than zero.

I had the chiropractor out and he adjusted her today. He was shocked at how lame, and the condition she was in physically as well as mentally. She was out all over the place. More of, 'where isn't she out'.

Hopefully, my farrier can get to her tomorrow. I asked if I should try and clean the feet up as best I could. Nope, he said leave him with as much to work with as possible. He usually says, yeah, go for it. I'm pretty decent at trims, but when I described her feet he was concerned.

She's moving better after the adjustment from the chiropractor. A little swing to her back, and some reach. I've never had this mare lame except for abcesses, sore feet, or when she took down the side of an old growth barn when I first got her, or the time a friend's mare kicked the crap out of her and cracked some ribs.

I'll have to write the story of why she bashed herself out of the barn another time.

Bobby - Ninja Kitty

The kitty in the picture is my barn cat Bobby. You can't really get a feel for the size or solidness of Bobby from his picture. Bobby belonged to a woman I know. She paid some healthy amount for him, she's never said what. He is supposed to be part Bobcat. Don't know, he looks kind of like one, or just a really big Manx. He's raked like a muscle car, the hind end is higher than the front.



I guess it got to the point where she was worried walking through her house, wondering from where and when Bobby would leap out and attack her. Bobby ran away from home. She looked for him, couldn't find him. He showed up at the local dressage barn. Bobby did fine for awhile there, then he decided he should be the only kitty at the barn. Oh, and his attacking of DQ's was very frowned on. I guess he chased one kitty in front of a car and it died. He put another kitty's eye out, and beat another kitty up pretty bad. The DQ's were going to take him to the pound, or just off him somehow. They'd had it with him.


Elaine called me and asked if I wanted a barn cat. My son was 11 at the time. She tells me all his bad behavior, and how mean etc... Now I'm kind of worried, I don't want some vicious cat at my place around my kid. She says she doesn't think he's as bad as reported. So we borrow a kitty carrier. I'm wondering how to get this beast into the carrier. One lady at the barn that really likes him, puts him in. She recommends I do not leave him in the carrier. That I just let him out as soon as I get to my place. I'm thinking...oh he'll be gone, I'll never see him again.


Once at my place, with great hesitation I let him out. I've put down canned food and dry (they said he hated canned food and wouldn't eat it). He strolls out of the carrier and settles into the can of food. He now gets a can morning and night, plus dry food.


Well, Bobby does have some issues. If you're petting him and he's done he'll bite you. If flops over on his back showing you his tummy, and wriggles like "oh rub my tummy" don't do it, don't believe him. He will latch onto your arm like a boa, and then try to gut your arm with his hind legs. Yes, I have thrown this kitty (that semi panicked...ugh get off of me). Sad but true.


There have been a few incidents with Bobby. My neighbor came up to talk to me one day. Bobby strolls up. She starts backing away from him. She asks, "Is this your cat?" I really want to say, "No, why?" But no, I say, "Yes he is, why?" I guess he showed up at her house and attacked her. (Jerk, really bad form to go to someone's house and beat them up. Not allowed). They get along fine now.

Second incident. I had a mobile vet out to do acupuncture on Shad. Very easy going woman, kind, very kind to animals. Well, Bobby decides to hop into her motor home that is her traveling office with surgery and everything set up in it. Very cool set up by the way. She goes up to her all Mr. Nice. She pets him a few times, and he tags her. She shushes him off, and he goes out the door. Well, he comes back, with intent. He comes trotting up the steps...scopes out where she is sitting and launches himself at her. Hind and front legs splayed...air born. Just as he hits her leg, I grab him by the scruff of the neck, and hurl him out the door about 25 feet or so. He lands, gives me the 'hate you' look and walks off.


I now realize I have just hurled my cat 25+ feet through the air, in the presence of this very nice, touchy feely kind of vet. I'm thinking, great...she's going to think I'm some horrible animal abuser. I hesitate a moment before I turn back around and say, "Bobby's kind of different. If you don't get after him right away in a big way and stop it he gets worse." She is laughing, "Oh, I have one at home just like him. Manx too, but female...I'd of done the same thing." Whew bullet dodged.


Bobby's piece de la resistance was biting the judge's brother. I share my pasture and barn with a local Superior Court Judge. She would have her brother come up and feed for her. He would tease Bobby. My son even told him, don't tease Bobby, you'll make him mean. Well, this guy thought it was funny. He would palm the top of Bobby's head, and shake it and say, "See he's a tough guy he likes it." I said, "No, he doesn't you're going to make him mad. Don't tease my cat."


At the stable in town across from me is a local sheriff. Great person. Love her to death. There is an orange and white kitty there, Fenton. Fenton and the sheriff do not get along. I swear they have a running vendetta at each other. I think Fenton started it actually. When she pulls up in her truck, and gets out....Fenton hurries over and pees on her tires. She always say, "Do something about your cat." Fenton is not my cat, he just decided he would hang out in my tack room. He sprays in everyone elses. (He hasn't in mine, knock wood). I don't feed Fenton, he is not my kitty.


I get a call from Animal Control about my Cat. I assume it's my friend the sheriff messing with me, big joke etc... Then I hear 'cat bite'. So, I call. Yup, it's Bobby. He bit the judge's brother. The judge's brother ended up in the ER. I have to take a copy of Bobby's rabies certificate in to animal control. I get there, and tell them the story. The officer says, "Yeah, the guy is pretty embarrassed, he said he was teasing the cat. But all animal bites that end up in the ER have to be reported." Great. Bobby is on probation.


I later tell my friend the sheriff what happened and what I thought she'd done. She laughed, said if she had thought of it she would have done it Her response to the judges brother situation, "F-ing pussy. Kitty put him in the ER."

Top's Second Carrie Lesson

Well, as soon as I get him away from the stable in town, he settles. He really likes it at the trainer's place. He still is sweaty when he comes out of the trailer, but he wasn't white foam this time. So, some improvement. He does not haul well. He goes right in as we're leaving, he does not want to get in to go home. And he kicks and bangs around most of the ride. UGH. But he comes out nicely. Odd, very odd. I think I'm going to make a point of arriving at least an hour early for my lesson. He needs the adjustment period, as well as the drying time. lol

I let him stand at the trailer for awhile. He was itchy and about rubbed his halter off his head. It was hanging by an ear. Medium was too small, large is too big. Crap. I groomed him for about 15-20 minutes. Lots of hair coming off. His brand is starting to show. Tacked him up, he is starting to get too round for the 22" girth (how sad is it that a horse that is between 16.1-16.2h can even fit in a 22" dressage girth). We're moving up to the big 24" girth. Woohoo. He's also starting to outgrow the 76" blankets, need to get him some 78" ones. Cami will be happy to have her clothes back, if they aren't totally destroyed.

I lunged him. No problems. Easy canter departs, no spooks, no jumps. Even started to relax and stretch over the topline. Big progress for tension boy. We were in the outdoor yesterday so I walked him around to look at things before my ride. Lots to see. He settled quickly.

I still had Teri stand by him while I got on. It seems to help both him and me. We strolled around for bit, then Carrie said, "Okay, pick him up, lets go." No problem, no resistance. We went back on the riding a diamond. Every time he'd get strong, lose his neck we'd halt. Hold until he gave, relax, and then walk again. Then we moved to the trot. He was going really nicely. Has a tendency to want to lean on the right leg, whether it's the inside or the outside. We discussed that. When he'd get too strong, or out of position, halt, hold till he gives, relax and move on. If he gets out of position at all, fix it at the halt then move on.

I was going to try and ride him through it as before, but Carrie said not too. That he couldn't take it, he had plenty of forward when on...that he need to stop, regroup and go again. Not a problem for me. lol I'm used to the...okay forward, don't let them do that, just ride through it, it will come. Not for Top. He's too insecure.

We pretty much had a handle on both our positions and we're feeling confident. We're going along at a really nice working trot, he's feeling all uphill and squishy, I'm loving it. Carries says, "And walk, now walk to canter departure." I said, "No." Carrie, "Walk to canter, now." Oh, just fine. Got my bad self organized, inside leg on, outside leg maybe 1/2" back and ask...it was beautiful. He departs from behind, and just strides into it. We both improved when I decided stretching up might be warranted. lol

The canter is clean with good jump in it. Really nice. Then canter to walk transition. I'd love to say it was the horse, but I dropped him on his head. It felt like falling off a cliff. I slammed down on his back. I felt bad, petted him told him, "Sorry Top, my fault." Then said so everyone could hear, "I guess it might be a good idea to ride the downward transition." We got better. He's a pretty good boy, I just need to ride him. You are always told, 'ride every stride'. Well, with Top, you ride every stride, no sloppiness allowed.

We were cantering along, and something in my hip popped. I suddenly sat alittle deeper, felt alittle straighter. So, I of course announce, "Something just popped in my hip, I can sit deeper." Carrie just shook her head. Back to up and down. He never quit me, unless I quit riding. If you're on, he's on. He does get a little heavy in the connection, but that may just be him. We'll see.

The pictures added are not of the Carrie lesson. They are older pics. I need to take some more pictures.

Top's Not Brave

Last night when I went to work Top he was a total froot loop. He really struggles at the stable in town. The closer we got to the arena the more erect he became. Very tall, and very rigid in his posture. He even halted a few times in worry.

I realized he could see what was going on in the arena long before I could. Wannabes, rhythm ropes, horses faces cranked to their chests and other assorted horsey horrors. I swear the other horses were telling him, "Run away, you don't want to come in here. This is what they do to you, it's horrible, it's scary, it hurts."

The last time we'd worked in the arena he got a scare as soon as we entered. I saw a woman on her mounting block close to the nearest gate, so we went to the main double gate that was open to enter. I'm leading him in. We get about 15-20 feet from the woman on the mounting block. She goes to get on. She apparently hadn't fastened her cinch snug enough. The saddle spun as she was starting to swing a leg over. She has her spur hooked in her gelding's hip, trying to salvage/lever her way on. Scares the living crap out of Top, he's watching this, very erect with a look of horsey horror on his face. When she hit the ground tangled in the saddle and drawreins...he hopped backwards about 12 inches...all four feet in unison, neck arched looking at her.

Now, I'm a tad worried. This is not a young woman. She's 70 something. She works herself free...her horse has not moved a muscle this entire time. (I love her horse, young paint gelding. A true sweety, and a gentleman). She can't right the saddle. So, I have her hold Top while I loosen the girth a bit and shove it back into position, and snug it up. The young gelding never moved. He's a real trooper. I look over to her and Top. Top is standing with all four perfectly square, he has his body bowed away from her, head up, broke at the pole and cocked watching her very carefully. I'm hoping she doesn't move....just stands until I can get ahold of him. He was very unsure of her, and looked spring-loaded.

We go about our business. I lunge him...he goes decently. He watches/looks for her and the gelding often. But goes well enough. I'm about to get on, and more people enter, kids bonsai-ing around...I figured we were done for the day. As we are exiting the arena the woman is by her stall (about 30 feet from us) starting to dismount. She does it again, spins that saddle under the gelding's barrel and hits the ground. (I think, 'Oh just f*#k me'). She gets up, comes toward us saying, "I'm going to need you to fix that saddle again, I know I can't get it." Grabs Top's line. So I go over and fix the saddle again.

I'd made this big statement about a week before about how I wasn't going to be scooping her up off the arena anymore yadda yadda yadda. (Yeah big talk little white woman). Hey, I've know her for twenty years, she's always been nice to me. We may not see eye to eye on training techniques, but she is a nice woman, and I have to give her credit...she's still doing all this stuff. And she is my elder. There are things that are just ingrained into you that never leave, and respect for your elders is apparently one.

Last night he was a loon. Any canter depart on the lunge was a semi bolt...half the time both hinds together. Canter was terrible, lateral (left hind, and left front traveling in unison) and pronky. Assorted spooks, hops and little panic attacks. I'm thinking great, I am going to die tomorrow.