You Take The Horse; I'll Gladly Take The Dog

By Dave Barry

Knight-Ridder Newspapers

RECENTLY a woman I know named Michelle came into the newspaper office with a big ugly wound on her upper arm. Realizing that she might be self-conscious about it, I said: "Michelle, what's that big ugly wound on your upper arm?" Sensitivity is the cornerstone of journalism.
It turned out that Michelle had been bitten by a horse. It was her own horse, and it bit her while she was trying to feed it.
This is a typical horse maneuver. Horses are the opposite of dogs, gratitude-wise. You give a dog something totally wretched to eat, such as a toad part or a wad of pre-chewed Dentyne, and the dog will henceforth view you as the Supreme Being.
It will gaze on you for hours with rapt adoration and lick the ground you walk on and try to kill the pizza-delivery person if he comes anywhere near you.
Whereas if you spend hours grooming a horse and lugging its food and water around, the horse will be thinking: "Should I chomp on this person's arm? Or should I merely blow a couple gallons of horse snot into this person's hair?"
I don't trust horses. "Never trust an animal with feet made from the same material as bowling balls" is one of my mottoes. I never believed those scenes in Western movies when bad guys would tie the hero up, and his horse would trot over and untie the knots with his teeth. A real horse would size up the situation and stomp on the hero's feet.
I don't blame horses for being hostile. I myself would feel hostile toward somebody who was always sitting on me and yanking on my lips. But what I don't get is, how come they're so popular? Especially with women?
Now, you're probably saying: "Dave, you're just bitter because in fifth grade you had an intense crush on Susan Cartoun, and you wrote `Sue' on your notebook inside a heart, but the name inside the heart on her notebook was `Frosty,' an imaginary horse that she loved much more than you, despite the fact that, if Frosty ever had the chance, it would have got imaginary snot in her hair."
Yes, it's true that I am a little bitter about that. Also, I have not forgotten my first experience with a horse. I was 9 years old, at a farm, and I attempted to ride a pony.
"Pony" is a misunderstood word. Many young people, having grown up watching the "My Little Pony" cartoon show, believe that a pony is a cute little pastel-colored critter with a perky voice and a nurturing personality and a 1973 Farrah Fawcett hair style. Whereas, in fact, a typical pony is the same weight as an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme but with no controls or moral code.
Anyway, following my sister's directions, I put my foot into the metal thing hanging down from the pony (technically, the "fetlock"), and instantly the pony, not wishing to be boarded at that time, trotted briskly off, with my leg attached to it.
I attempted to keep up by bouncing next to it on my other leg, like the famous Western cinematic star, Hopalong Dork, but finally, in a feat of astonishing equestrian skill, I fell down backward and got dragged across the field with my head bouncing gaily behind amongst the cow doots.
I could tell the pony enjoyed this immensely. It couldn't wait to get back to the stable and tell the other horses via Snort Language.
"You should have seen his hair!" snorted the pony. "He'll need to shampoo with industrial solvents!"
"Next time," snorted one of the older horses, "try stepping on him. It's like dropping an anvil on a Hostess Twinkie."
"And the legal authorities can't prosecute, because we're horses," snorted another.
So I stayed off horses altogether until 20 years later, when I was courting my wife. We were in the Rocky Mountains, and they had rental horses, and she wanted to ride one.
Naturally, she loves horses. As a child, she used to ride a neighbor's horse bareback, an experience she remembers fondly even though she admits the horse would regularly try to decapitate her by running under low tree branches at 27 miles per hour.
I don't want to sound like a broken record here, but why is it that a woman will forgive homicidal behavior in a horse, yet be highly critical of a man for leaving the toilet seat up?
But I was in Raging Hormone Courting Mode, meaning I would have wrestled a giant snake to impress my wife-to-be, so I let her talk me into getting on this rental horse.
It turned its head around and looked at me with one of those horse eyeballs the size of a mature grapefruit, and I knew instantly what it was thinking. It was thinking: "Hey! It's Hopalong Dork!"
So while my wife's horse trotted briskly off into the scenery, looking for low branches to run under, my horse just stood there, eating and pooping, waiting for me to put one leg on the ground so it could suddenly take off and drag me to Oregon.
So I sat very still, like one of those statue generals, only more rigid. I'd say we moved about 11 feet in two hours. Next time I am definitely renting the snake.
Fortunately, my wife's horse was unable to kill her, and we got married and lived happily ever after, except that she keeps saying that she wants us to go riding again.
I don't know what to do. I think maybe tonight I'll fix her a candlelight dinner, give her some wine, and put on some soft, romantic music. Then, when the moment is just right, I will gently but firmly bite her upper arm.
Dave Barry's column appears Monday on The Times' editorial page.

These are a few of my favorite things

2 old Kong toys,
Kim's duffel bag
Owen's stinky socks
 I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad!

Nase, having grown up in a shelter/kennel environment, has never had things to call his own before.  Now that he lives in a house with us, he has started collecting.  His private stash is located under my side of the bed, and includes the above mentioned objects, as well as a rope toy, his blanket, a shredded stuffed animal, and a tennis ball.  When he thinks no one is watching he will also steal any dirty clothes on the floor, including my slippers, and tuck them neatly away under the bed or under his blanket for safekeeping.  He always looks startled when we catch him in the act of sequestering his treasures, but he is reasonable when we have to reclaim certain items.  At least we don't have dog toys (or dirty laundry) lying around the house, right?

I found this picture of a German Wirehaired Pointer online. Looks just like Nase, but it's hard to get a picture of Nase this good with my little camera phone.  So I don't know, mutt or obscure hunting breed?

Empty House + Owen Out of Town = New Dog

The house was WAY too empty without Tally, and Owen left to go out of town for work.  I tried to bring in a border collie, but they spent all their time trying to get outside to go back to work with the horses.  They're just not meant to be indoor dogs.  So just before Owen left we went to an animal rescue in Windsor and found Nase.  They were calling him an Airdale mix, but after meeting him and having him for about a week I think he's a pointer/terrier mix.  He's gaited, so moves both right legs and then both left legs, making him very light on his feet and quiet when he walks, as opposed to Tally's hearty stomping around the kitchen.  He has long whiskers and shaggy lips and eyebrows as well that make us think terrier.  He's too slightly built to have much lab in him even though he's black, but his conformation is a lot like Molly, my Shorthaired Pointer.  He also likes to point at the birds when they land on fence posts.  He loves to go for walks around in the pastures with the other dogs (Miles & Belle the working border collies, and Newman, the neighbor's corgi who basically lives here) but mostly he loves to nap.  I've never had a slow dog before, and I'm not sure what to do with this champion couch potato.  All he wants is a romp outside in the morning, and the rest of the day he likes to sleep on the floor next to my side of the bed.  He will sample a chew toy now and then (still learning which house items are dog toys and which are human items).  He lived all his life in shelters, is 1.5 years old, and will be about 50 lbs once I get some groceries into him.  New things are a little scary, like the microwave, horses, our shorty friend Newman, carpet, the washing machine and dryer...  He seems pretty happy to be here so far, and dispenses whiskery kisses anytime.  An interesting aside, the shelter was calling him "Fred", but we changed it to Nase because I dated a guy named Fred in high school and it just didn't seem right to tell Owen in the evening that I spent my rainy day snuggling with "Fred".

Sad Goodbye to Tally Ho

It's with a very heavy heart I must report that our Tally Ho had to be put down a little over a week ago.  Her health problems became too much for us and her, and included seizures, autoimmune disease, incontinence, eye and facial swelling, and vomiting.  We did all we could for our little hound, and she'll always live in our hearts at Bit of Honey Training.  Our "ranch in heaven" is going to have to be big to accommodate all the creatures we have loved.  As Phoenix, my friend's 6 year-old says, speaking of the resurrection, "wow - when the dogs come back you're going to have a LOT of animals!"  Some of the things I'll remember most about Tally is her yodeling (often people would ask us if there was a human child crying in the next room), her endless energy and rabbiting skills, and how she loved to nap in my chair, or on me.  She was one of the most snuggly dogs I've met and incredibly affectionate.  While she never did entirely acclimate to thin men wearing cowboy hats (smart dog), she welcomed everyone else onto the property with gusto.  Owen would always say in a high-pitched voice, "Here I come...!" As Tally would sneakily crawl into your lap on the couch.   She especially loved giving dog kisses to little girls at smooching height. 

Ah... puppyhood

I got these first 4 pictures from Belle's old owner last week.  They are AWFULLY cute, of Belle and her litter-mate at about 12 weeks old.  The last 3 pics are of Miles at the same age.  Belle is now 6 and Miles is 1.5 years old.  No, we do not dress up our pets for halloween.  Though we considered painting a white stripe down Miles' back and calling him a skunk.  No trick-or-treaters here tonight, but the neighbor dog, Newman, came over to play again.  He lives across the south pasture but spends more time here than at home.  He's a little tri-colored corgi that looks just like Miles, but with the legs lopped off.

Entry for the Arenus Strong Bonds Contest

From Wheelchair to Cross-Country Course

Because of the help Cecil gave me after I suffered a traumatic brain injury, I am able to work, ride, and live again.  In 2008 I was in a major accident that changed my life.  Previously an athletic eventing rider and trainer, for some time after the accident I was in a wheelchair and then a walker, with balance problems and visual deficits.  After returning home to our training stable from the rehab facility I wanted to see Cecil, my motivation to go outside with my walker.  Not only was Cecil, a barely five year old thoroughbred, not afraid of this device, but he would come right over to the fence to see me on my assisted trips outside.  Because of the location of the brain injury, we knew I would have trouble with motion in the saddle.  Eventually, though, I wanted to ride again.  

Four months after the accident, on my birthday, all I wanted was to ride Cecil.  He had been under saddle for about a year.  With the help of my husband and a friend, we attempted the ride hippotherapy style.  I was able to mount with my husband as a spotter, but Cecil knew I was not quite right.  My young, playful horse then proceeded to walk slowly and carefully, shifting his weight under me to ensure I didn’t tip over.  With the help of my friend at his head, my husband at my side, and my horse underneath me I continued the process of recovery.  

During another ride several months later I was mounted on Cecil, walking independently in the arena.  Suddenly the wind turned on, as it is prone to do here in Northern Colorado.  I found myself dizzy, nauseated, and unable to walk back to the barn under my own power.  Cecil, sensing I was not steady, cautiously came to a complete stop.  I dismounted (crawled down from the saddle is more accurate) and held the tack with a death grip until I was able to stand without falling.  I wrapped my fingers in his mane and leaned hard on his shoulder.  I focused as fully as I could on the gate, and said “Cecil, I need you to get me there safely.”  With most of my weight leaning on him, Cecil took small, slow steps to match my own halting gait, though in a perfectly straight line.  He precisely guided me to the tack room, where I sat on the floor and he patiently waited for my friend to come get him.

I am now two and a half years past the accident that cemented my friendship with Cecil.  Largely because of him, I am in the saddle regularly.  I have returned to work as a horse trainer, and Cecil and I competed extensively this past season.  There is a special bond between this horse and me, and he will remain my horse, my physical therapist, my partner in competition, and my friend as long as we live.

Dog Days of Summer

Yes, we now have 3 dogs!  I found another border collie who needed a job.  Her name is Belle, she's 5 years old and is fitting in great.  She's been here for about a week and has learned sit, down, shake, come, and has been on her first trail ride and for her first swim in the pond.  Here are her first glamour shots (she is the one with the phantom of the opera face)!  Miles and Tally are also camera hogs and so wrestled for a ball to get on camera.  Miles has his intense border collie stare, and Belle is just happy to be here.

Snapshots of a Good Day

My working student in the new show shirt I found for her at a sale (a spectacular deal - $300 showmanship coat that doubles as an equitation shirt for $25!!)
One of our "show moms"
All the competitors in this leadline class were from our barn - 3 handlers, 3 riders, and 3 horses! A great bunch of people. We all enjoyed this show - I was preoccupied with Samson and making sure his (and thus my) day went well. But I did get to observe my stable in action! We had a large bunch of people there representing the barn and competing, helping each other out, cheering, and taking pictures. I felt like I really had "arrived" as a trainer when I saw all my folks able to safely and efficiently groom, tack, and compete with their horses without any assistance from me! I have the best bunch of clients and kids, independent and responsible people who can do anything necessary with the horses. I feel like they have been taught well, after seeing that show go so incredibly smoothly while I focused on Samson.

Josie's First Show

Cole continues to fulfill his summer duties as the riding lesson horse! He took his owner's daughter into the leadline class and they came away successful. One can't help but notice the adorableness of the purple shirt, purple bedazzled helmet cover, purple saddle pad, and purple halter on Cole. The saddle was shiny and they got a ribbon - what more can you ask for?

Samson's First Show

Samson has finally learned to tie, to stand quietly for grooming, to self-load in the horse trailer, and to stand bravely inside it while I leave and shut the partitions. We tossed Cole in the trailer for a leadline class and to keep Samson company, and off we went to the last saddle club show of the season. Samson was a a star - though he was pretty upset about all the shapes and sizes of horses there. I don't think he had ever seen a paint horse - those white spots really worried him, and the ponies were PRETTY scary. He had calmed down by the end of the day, though, and we counted it a success!

Cecil in the Limelight

We went to the dressage championships in Parker and Cecil was a rock star. It has been a long season, but we've been extremely fortunate to show in places like the phenomenal Colorado Horse Park (think: wood in stables is nicer than wood in my house) and in the mountains of Estes Park (think: best views of the Rockies ever seen from horseback at a show)

In this particular picture, I like to think this is the judge's view of Cecil and they are thinking, "Wow, what a gorgeous, balanced canter."
Final salute - Cecil takes his job seriously.
Lovely uphill canter!
Trot work

More Behind the Scenes

This is Tally, our ultimate horse show dog. She wore her harness and followed us around like a dutiful hound should, never barking, only the occasional howl or yodel at the other dogs there that looked like Miles the border collie. She has come to all the overnight shows this season because of her health issues we couldn't leave her at home. (Epilepsy and others) We must admit she is spectacular to have around for moral support.
Speaking of moral support, Rebecca came to the Estes show and camped with me and Tally in the trailer. Here she is, pictured preparing the ultimate PB&J sandwiches.
Sheridan was our official groom in Parker at the championships, she caught this picture of the sunset as I was distractedly working my way into pajamas.

We're not sure what happened to this banana, but we took it out of the cupboard and it looked like this. We elected not to eat it.

Kim's Friend in Estes Park

This is my friend and neighbor, Trisha. Her horse, Surprise, is from Florida and they competed at Prix St. George (a division in dressage) at the Paragon Dressage Show in Estes. They didn't have a camera with them so I filled in as impromptu photographer.

Sa-lute!

Here is our salute at the end of our test last weekend in Cheyenne. Cecil is so focused, I love this horse!