smellshorsey

Donate Your Car to Help Animal Shelters

It's been a long time since I've posted anything on this or any other blog. Today I got an opportunity to write a post that will help animal shelters, so in memory of my dog, Parker (pictured), I decided it was time to break my silence and write about SPCA car donation.

Somebody, somewhere has probably come up with a statistic for the percentage of horse people who also own dogs. Based on the horse people I know, it's probably close to 100 percent, with many people owning more than one dog. You probably also care about animal shelters and would like to help out (Parker was a stray but our cats both came from the city animal shelter).  You can help through car donation.

You can donate a car you don't want to the SPCA and get a tax deduction. The car doesn't even have to be running. It's easy to donate online or by making a phone call. They'll pick it up for free, usually in 24-hours, and then sell it at the highest possible price. The money they get for your car will go to help provide medical services and care for unwanted animals now crowding local and national shelters.

If you're like me, you'd like to adopt them all. I can't even watch the ads on TV. Heartbreaking. Your old car can help them. Seems strange, doesn't it? Donate something you don't want and give a second chance to pets. The name of the project is Cars Helping Pets.

This photo of Parker was taken by my daughter, Lily, on her last walk with him a couple of weeks ago, just a few days before he died. He had a good long life.

 

The Good Samaritan: The Story

Bad things happen. We were at the November Pony Club meeting at Hunter Trial Hill in Camden. It was a beautiful, wonderful day. The morning was spent at the Pony Races at the Steeplechase Museum (I should have blogged about that very entertaining event and might yet, but the bad thing that followed took away my impulse to write about that day). The afternoon was a regular Pony Club meeting on Hunter Trial Hill, that sacred, inviting place for jumping that's used only one day per year. I competed there as a teenager and at that age it was the finest place I'd ever ridden. I was excited that Pony Club was meeting there and Lily would have a chance to jump those fun, inviting jumps. 

We had a picnic, chairs and enough sun for a sunburn. I had picked out a spot, along with my brother-in-law, to put our chairs with a good, close-up  view of a couple of jumps. Lily's group was riding, and she had just finished a jump -- I think it was an Aiken -- and was waiting for her turn. We were sitting on one side of the jump's landing area, Lily was mounted and waiting across from us, facing us. We had a great view of this jump.

One of the handsomest horses there that day was an off-the-track Quarter Horse. His owner and her parents had looked long and hard for this horse, and he was special. It was a joy to watch them all. Lily jumped the jump. Then the OTQH came next. He jumped, landed, and then his front end collapsed. He went down, down, down, catapulting his rider over his head before the horse somersaulted into stillness. For a moment it looked like his crashing legs would hit his rider, but they didn't. The girl started to get up, but everyone made her stay on the ground. To our relief, the horse's legs moved, but he didn't get up. And he didn't get up. And he didn't get up. 

Two ambulances came for the girl, who checked out all right at the hospital. A vet came for the horse, who finally got up and could walk, but didn't look right. He wanted to go down again. He wasn't lame, but he wasn't right. Later that night he had to be put down. He had broken something up in his neck. 

We didn't know the fate of the horse until the next day, but even so, it felt like the day was over. Still, there was another group of Pony Clubbers who had yet to ride, and Lily was invited to ride with them since her group had ended so abruptly. It had been a long day. We were all tired and darkness was coming quickly. But i told Lily if she had the opportunity to ride, she needed to. She didn't want to.

I helped her tack her horse back up. This time, she put on her protective vest. After she mounted she asked me, "Mom, am I riding this for me or for you?" I said probably both. 

They did what they came to do, but the joy was knocked out of the day, replaced by fear and some measure of horror. 

The girl whose horse fell had been working to rate up to in December (in Pony Club, you are rated by a professional and your rating determines what you can do at meetings and at rallies). With a tragic fall and no horse, it seemed the girl, whom I'll call Carly, was out of luck for the next rating. In fact, we wondered if she would even be interested.

Here's where the Good Samaritan came in. One of the Pony Club DCs (I think that's the title) immediately got to work. She called Carly's instructor and offered to let Carly use her own daughter's horse (her daughter had gone off to college) for rating up, if Carly could shift from grief to work. The instructor and the Pony Club DC, hereafter called The Good Samaritan, persuaded Carly to give it a try.

The Good Samaritan loaded up Winston, her daughter's horse, and hauled him to Carly's lesson barn twice a week every week so that Carly could get used to the horse and prepare for her rating. I think Carly also came out to the Good Samaritan's barn for some extra time riding and getting used to the horse. 

The Good Samaritan worked with her and made her comfortable on Winston. And by the time that the rating came around, Carly was scared but ready. 

The Good Samaritan hauled Winston 80 miles to the rating on a miserably cold day. They were there early in the morning. They went home after dark. 

Carly was in a group of five girls, including my daughter, Lily. The rating was hard. Of the five, only three passed. Carly (and Lily) were among them. 

Thanks to a near stranger, Carly got to fulfill her dream of rating up. Though she still grieves, her riding continues. 

When I commented to someone how extraordinary it was that The Good Samaritan would spend week after week going to so much trouble for someone else's child, they told me it wasn't extraordinary at all. They said, "She's always doing things like that. Her husband calls her 'The Good Samaritan.'"

I am touched and inspired by this story. The Good Samaritan took what she had and brought it to a grieving girl. Twice a week, week after week. No doubt many of her suppers were late. Her own chores didn't get done. She skipped time out with friends or time on her own with a book. She gave what she had -- herself, her time and her horse -- with joy and love. 

To misparaphrase Mark Twain, "Live in such a way that when you die even the undertaker feels the loss." 

I can't see me hauling horses twice a week for somebody else's child, but I can do more than I do. I look to this Good Samaritan as my role model, and I see that there are ways I can help other people with what I have and who I am. And my resolution for 2010 is to once a week (it sounds so paltry) to do something nice and out of the ordinary for someone not in my family. 

Remind me. And offer suggestions. It really doesn't take all that much effort to lighten someone else's load. Bagging your own groceries when the cashier is overwhelmed with customers. Cooking extra to take to an elderly neighbor. Babysitting for someone who needs some time off, or taking an older person to the movies. I'm sure if we are open to the idea, the opportunities will present themselves. This year, I'm available. 

Tell me about the Good Samaritans you know. 

Do It Yourself Medical Armband

 I haven't been posting in a while because I've been looking for stuff we've lost, most recently, our USEA Medical Armbands. Lily was all set to go to a horse trials last Saturday and even though I had nagged, yes nagged, her for two weeks about did she know where everything was, she admitted on Friday night that no, she didn't know where her required medical armband was. The one you can't ride without.

For readers who aren't eventers, medical arm bands are cheapo plastic sleeves with an elastic band that goes around your upper arm. Inside is a slip of paper with all your medical information on it, including a record of your falls and instructions about what to do with your dead body. It's required for cross-country and stadium jumping in horse trials. The USEA Medical Armband information page you need to fill out is readily available on the Internet, so we were able to download and print it. But how to get it on her body without pinning it through her skin (an option I considered)?

What I should have done was scratch her from the event and stay home. She'd had ample time to either find it or do something about not being able to find it. I foam at the mouth about things left until the night before. That would have been good parenting. I also would have lost my entry fee, which I'd already paid. The money spent won out over good parenting.

The weather forecast was also dismal. Chance of sleet, then rain, and the high no higher than 43. A perfect day to teach my daughter a lesson while staying warm and comfortable inside. Maybe I would have written my Christmas cards. Written my novel. 

But no. Instead, I googled "do it yourself medical armband" and came up with nothing. Hence the title of this post. The things can be had for $5-$10, but they cannot be had at Wal-Mart or your local gas station. You would gladly pay the money but there is no one to take it the night before. 

And apparently I'm the only disorganized person on the Internet because I could find no instructions on how to make my own medical armband. Pinning it on would have worked, except if the rain came. Plus, a safety pin might not be the greatest thing in a fall. I thought of putting it in a Ziploc bag and pinning or duct-taping it on, and that probably would have worked fine. Except for the crinkly sound it might make. The horse-killing, crinkly plastic sound. No, though I may have wanted to kill Lily for waiting until the last minute, I was not going to strap an IED on her. 

So, I went to my Drawer That Contains Everything. After scrabbling through spare stock pins, extra headphones, old eyeglasses and my grandmother's handkerchiefs, I found something potentially useful: a luggage tag. A bright turquoise leatherette thing guaranteed to keep anyone else from accidentally taking your luggage, or your daughter seriously.

It was a great size and had a plastic window sewn into it. If we removed the duct tape to transfer it from her cross-country shirt to her stadium-jumping jacket it wouldn't tear, unlike the IED crinkly plastic bag of death.

And I just happened to have some turquoise duct tape. Now, I can't get my socks to match. But my luggage tag and my duct tape, why I'm practically the Michelle Obama of style. 

I was worried that I might have to sing and dance to get this improvised equipment approved, but the technical delegate said it was okay. I don't know if it was because she was freezing to death or the fact that we've been friends since we were teenagers. I was grateful either way.

I've put the photo of our DIY Medical Armband at the top of the post. Isn't it funny that the saddlepad matches? (The other duct tape you see I added because Lily's body protector vest was hard to get on over all the clothes she was wearing. No doubt she should have had it on under her coat, but our brains didn't work at that low temperature. 

By the way, it was her first time out at Novice -- and she won!

Why We Were Having a Problem Loading Our Horse

I don't know why any horses get on trailers. I wouldn't. They must really trust us.

Lily's new horse, Markus, has never, ever gotten on our trailer on the first try. At first we cut him some slack. We have a step-in, slant-load trailer (very open, so it's well lit), and his former owner had a ramp-load trailer. We figured he wasn't used to a step-in and  it would just take some time. Soon he'd be hopping in, like Buddy.

But no. Time didn't help. Markus was never awful about it, but he never would step in on the first try. Sometimes not on the second. Sometimes not on the third. Things never escalated -- he never dragged Lily around or reared up or did anything terrible. He just failed to get in. 

We tried treats. He would not be bribed. I held a broom behind him, sweeping it in his direction. He went backwards, away from the door. If he wasn't so gentlemanly in his refusal to just go ahead and get in, we would have escalated. But since it was just a matter of walking around to the trailer door a lot, we dealt with it. I have to confess that he got popped with the leadrope a couple of times but it never seemed to make a difference. He would get in when he decided to get in. Usually by the third try. 

Then I learned something about Markus. At a lesson a couple of weeks ago Lily's teacher told her to quit jumping one jump they couldn't get quite right because Markus was beginning to get worried. I thought that was very perceptive. Yes, now that you mention it, the horse was worrying. He was jumping it fine -- he loves to jump and has a grand heart for working -- but repeating the effort, even though Lily hadn't quite worked out whatever they were working on on her position, was making Markus worry that he wasn't doing something right. So they quit and moved on to something else and Markus quit worrying.

I never thought about a horse worrying about not doing something right. But Lily's teacher was right. Markus tries so hard that if something isn't right, he worries.

You have to love Thoroughbreds. 

Yesterday it was time for another lesson, and we needed to load him in our trailer to haul him to the lesson farm. I started to stand in my usual position, sort of behind him and to the side. I saw him roll his eyes to look at me, and realized that he's not getting in the trailer because he's worried about me standing there!

So I told Lily to wait a minute, to give me time to move to the front of the truck where Markus wouldn't worry about me. And with me out of the way and out of sight, Markus walked right on.

After her lesson we did the same thing. Again, he walked right on. First time, both times.

We are loving this horse. He's all set to do his job -- we just need to get out of his way.

Be Careful How You Tie Your Horse

  You don't have to fall off a horse to get hurt. A girl on the University of South Carolina Equestrian Team (pictured jumping grey horse) is in critical condition after the horse she was grooming spooked, pulling loose the rail he was tied to. The rail hit Victoria Middleton in the face and knocked her to the ground, where she hit her head on concrete. You can read the story here. She is now able to track visitors with her eyes and they may take her breathing tube out tomorrow. So sad and scary!

This could have been my daughter, Lily. I can't remember to tell her everything and I certainly don't know everything to tell her. A couple of years ago she tied her horse to a fence board, not a fence post. He spooked, the board came flying and hit Lily in the face. It hurt, her lips bled and she received some cuts. But she was okay. And did learn not to do that again.

There are so many ways to look at how to tie your horse. Generally, make sure if they spook that they can get loose -- we use breakaway halters in general and little loops of hay twine that will break when we tie them to the trailer. I wish we had cross ties at home but we don't -- so we tie the horse to a fence post, not a rail, so that if they decide to "leave" unexpectedly, they will not take the fence with them. I keep a supply of halter headstalls. If somebody makes this a habit, well, they get the unbreakable halter and the unbendable tree. But I haven't had to do that with any recent horses.

And then there's the magnificent Tree of Shame. It's not ours. It's a giant oak where a friend ties her horses when they need some thinking time. And no horse is pulling it down. I don't know what they're thinking about but I've seen them there, standing quietly, I assume repenting their current transgressions. But I think the Tree of Shame is a training tool, not a tying issue. Just couldn't resist mentioning it.

Then there are the knots you use to tie your horse. Use a quick release knot, though no knot is quick enough for an event like what happened to Victoria Middleton. Lily uses a quick release she learned in 4-H and Pony Club. I use the one my father taught me -- a bowline that's modified on the last step so that you loop the rope back into the hole, leaving the end loose for a quick pull. I like it because I can remember "the rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the tree, and back into the hole again." Instructions are here, though you need to modify the last step to make it a quick release.

Keep Victoria Middleton in your prayers. She could be any of us -- or our kids. There's a CaringBridge site you can access from the newspaper story.

Stay safe!

What Should Really be Tattooed on a Horse's Lip

It's hot, we have horseflies as big as horses and the barn fans got struck by lightning and I haven't fixed them, or the dog's invisible fence, which was on the same circuit. Poor Markus, our lovely new horse, thinks he has been sold down river. (Photo from Pony Club camp.)

Seems like everything we do to take care of him backfires. I got him way expensive gel galloping boots to protect his beautiful, precious legs. At Pony Club camp we used them for the first time. He tried to outrun the rear ones, galloping forever in a circle while the Pony Club instructors stopped all the classes nearby and Lily pulled and pulled and pulled. She looked stable and safe, in that way you tell yourself when you see your daughter on a runaway racehorse pulling to stop him to absolutely no effect. She didn't have that "I'm about to fall off look," and she looked scared but didn't panic. She couldn't hear the instructor yelling, "pulley rein!pulley rein!" and honestly I don't know how she stopped but she became famous for not dying and is greatly admired, or something, by the little girls who kept coming up to her afterwards and saying, "You're the one with the really fast horse."

The only thing worse than watching this was seeing her old horse, Buddy, come out of the woods without her. The mother sitting next to me kept saying, "Breathe! Breathe!" And I don't think I would have if she hadn't continued to remind me.

Lily thought of turning Markus into the fence to stop him, but that would have been a mistake because it was not a big fence (for him) and he would have jumped it -- and I hate to think what would have happened next. So they went round and round and round. As fast as he could go on what must have been about a 60-meter circle. I think they must have done about 30 laps but surely not. But they went round and round and Lily looked like she was getting worn out and I prayed for her safety and for her to have the sense not to bail out. He couldn't go on forever, she was stable, they were on a track of sorts, and I kept saying they can't go on forever. She's been taught the pulley rein and to pull him in a circle, but I think she lost IQ points with every lap. Neither one of us remember how she got him stopped. I am here to tell you that it wasn't because he was tired or gave up. He's not that kind of horse.

The instructor got them to stand in the center, that is, after Lily got him stopped, and that's when she noticed that he was kicking at his rear boots. So she took the fancy, save-his-legs, million-dollar, brand-new gel boots off. And he was fine from then on. Anybody need some million dollar gel boots? Will make your horse go faster!

His former rider, who was instructing from a nearby ring, watched the whole thing. And that's when she remembered the time they put rear boots on him for a show and he quit jumping. They took the rear boots off and he started jumping again.

So, while I've been trying to decipher the tattoo on his lip, just for fun, to find out who he was in the race world, I've had an epiphany: forget his Jockey Club number. What should really be tattoed on his lip is: DO NOT PUT REAR BOOTS ON THIS HORSE.

You Can Catch Poison Ivy from Your Horse

Who can resist this face, which says, "Pat me! Pat me!" Yes, It's hard to keep hands off of such a cute pony. But if you could read the sign, which you probably can't since I can't either, it said something along the lines of "Do NOT touch this horse. Poison Ivy!"

I thought maybe that was the pony's name. There's probably a pony somewhere appropriately named "Poison Ivy." Maybe the pony bites. Lures you in with a cute face, then CHOMP.

Or maybe the pony had rolled in poison ivy and you'd catch it if you rubbed him. My cousin caught poison ivy from his dog who spent the day romping in poison ivy and the night in my cousin's bed.

But no. I learned something new at Pony Club camp, where this photo was taken. This pony was out grazing and came upon some very yummy poison ivy, so he ate it. Apparently poison ivy doesn't bother horses, but it comes out through the horse's skin and secretions -- and if you touch the horse for the next 48 hours or so, you may as well go roll in the poison ivy yourself.

Back from Carolina's Region Pony Club Camp

We're back from five days in Tryon, N.C. at the Pony Club Carolina's Region summer camp. I love this photo, which I took on the cross-country course at FENCE. I don't know this girl but her horse was green and he jumped off of the bank jump like a happy five-year-old child who'd just discovered jumping off the side of the swimming pool. I love how he seems to be flying through the air with the mountains in the background.

Lily was also in this group of five girls and horses. It was mercilessly hot. Two of the five had to drop out due to the heat. I probably would have dropped out but moms aren't allowed to drop out. Here's a photo of Lily and Markus over the same jump. This was Lily's first time ever doing a drop bank.

Now here's one of the many, many cool things that happened at camp. See the woman whose back is to the camera? That's Sarah Hansel, who was one of the excellent instructors at camp and who has a personal connection to Markus, Lily's new horse. Sarah used to show him for the woman who had rehabbed him after his slab knee fracture at the track when he was four. She would have been an incredible instructor for Lily even if she didn't know the horse, but since she had a history with him, she was able to give extra insight -- and confidence -- to Lily.

Lily's lesson on the cross-country course with Sarah had Lily completely aglow. She said, "That's the best time I ever had in my life doing anything!"

I've never been so hot and tired as I've been over the last five days. But it was worth every drop of sweat and every pound of Tryon red clay that won't even wash out of our whites with bleach.

More to come.

Getting Ready for Pony Club Camp

School ended Friday. We're getting ready for Pony Club camp, which is in less than two weeks. I don't know what I'm getting myself into but since the materials state "this is not the kind of camp where you drop off your child and leave," I'm staying. And since I'm staying I'm bringing my horse as well as Lily's new horse.

I'm actually excited, especially since we decided to stay in a hotel instead of a stall. Or a tent. I really couldn't be civil if I slept in a stall on a cot for four nights. I'd likely start to crib, weave and take on other vices, especially biting the other campers and chaperones. I'm grumpy enough with sleep.

Lily signed up for tetrathlon shooting practice. She's never shot a gun before and has been wanting to learn. This all sounded fine until....they don't have enough pistols for the campers to use and are calling for campers to try to bring one.

Well, I have a S&W .357 magnum and two other handguns. But I don't think this is what Pony Club permits. Especially when they have middle-aged adult women (read: hormonal) sleeping in stalls. No, we do not need to be armed.

Turns out what they want is an air pistol. This sounded good. I had visions of a $20 BB gun from Wal-Mart. But no! These target air pistols are more in the $400 and up range. Ouch!

I knew that horses were expensive. But that's a lot of money for a gun you can't even use on a crack-crazy intruder or a rabid raccoon unless you really want to piss them off. It's a gun that's not a gun.

And here I was trying to plan ahead on the stuff we needed such as hay, feed, supplements, buckets (Pony Club is big on buckets), more buckets, replacement parts for everything that might break, which is everything, etc. Had to get a new Coggins on the new horse and all the shots up to date. And now I need to find and borrow a gun that doesn't really shoot and costs $400.

I called my good friend whose husband is heavily armed. Of course all of his guns shoot real ammunition. And I've got some other heavily armed friends, but I doubt any of them have arms that aren't lethal. We do have a potato gun that is great fun and was under $5. That might have to do.

I hear the tetrathlon is great fun and it's wonderful that volunteers are willing to come to camp and work with our kids. But I'm constantly amazed at the "one more thing" I need to have. (Nobody is saying that I have to have one -- don't get me wrong. Our Pony Club has nice reasonable people in it -- they're just hoping for some members who can lend us air pistols or moms who haven't already spent all their money on fly sheets.)

Anyway. I'm bringing my camera, and I plan to shoot that.

One Trendy Style Horse People Can't Wear

It's hard to be a horse person and to dress stylishly. For one thing, all the money for style goes to buy horse blankets to replace the ones that the horse thoughtlessly and gleefully shredded. And then there's the horse food. And the riding lessons.

There's also little reason to spend good money on any clothes that don't look good covered in green slobber. Or clothes that can't stand up to a good bleaching.

But then there's another obstacle for horse people who want to dress fashionably: the fashions themselves. I do believe that I would start to crib if forced to wear these cute (I guess) capris from Ann Taylor.
Is it just me? I see these pants -- I feel the ties brushing on my legs. FLIES!

I cannot and will not wear clothes that feel like I have flies crawling on my legs. Because most of the time, I do have flies crawling on my legs, and I'm constantly stomping and slapping at them.

I have a bathing suit cover-up with fringe on the bottom. One of those island print thingies. Very cute. Had to give it away. Fringe on bottom = FLIES on legs.

My TB mare, Lucy, has the same problem. I put a fly sheet on her last summer. Although she wears a blanket all winter with no problem, she was convinced that the lightweight mesh fluttering around her was FLIES. It made her crazier than before. So, since Buddy's fly sheet had arrived missing pieces (I eventually ended up getting a credit for it but haven't shopped at that particular Internet horse store again), I just let him have hers. Which he tore up.

The flies are bad already. I know I'm a little late, but I'm starting the horses on feed-through fly control, I'm hanging fly traps (pew!) under the eaves of the barn away from the horse end, and I have (probably foolishly) ordered new fly sheets that cover from ears to tail. And then I found these cool fly leg wraps and have ordered them, too. Last year's fly masks are in usable condition, so at least I didn't have to get that.

Of course, we're running through fly spray like crazy. And we need to figure out why the fans in the barn aren't working.

But wear fashionable clothes that have ties that feel like flies brushing my legs? Forget waterboarding -- that would be torture!