Horse Junkie

When I was little, I cared about one thing and one thing only: horses. {Not much has changed.}

I would eat, sleep and breathe horses. At the playground, my besties and I would canter around- pretending we were riding our steeds out in the wild west. I dreamed of one day having my own horse in our backyard.

I was like a junkie with a habit and my parents were total enablers- stopping me at every horse pen all across Dare County to snuggle and sniff real live horses. We befriended many horse-owners, as they'd grown accustomed to finding us in their yard. {We always asked permission. #consideratehorsejunkie}

After many visits to our friend's barn, who had become known as "GraMa" {because her grandchildren were close to my age and she had ponies, so naturally...she was my GraMa too} I began riding any spare horse or pony that was available. I was quiet and calm and was told I was a natural with the horses. I didn't know what that meant at the ripe old age of 6, but I felt pretty confident it meant I was in. #score

The summer before my seventh birthday, GraMa began telling my parents about this horse festival called Mule Days. Basically, it is Woodstock for horse people. You camp in a field with your horses for a weekend- you ride your horse (or buggy, if you will) everywhere you go, since the town is mostly shut down to vehicle traffic.

I stopped listening when she said "Eden would love it....horses.....*something something* riding....*something else* she can ride one of our horses and in the carriage"

"When is it?" my dad asked.

"The last weekend in September, every year!" she said.

Conveniently, the last weekend in September happens to fall right around my birthday. I remember the conversation so vividly.

"Daddy, I want to go to Mule Days for my birthday. I don't want a party or presents. I just want to go to Mule Days," I begged. {I remember this conversation so vividly because it happened about 9 million times before our departure}

From the twinkle in his eye, I figured he wanted to go as much as I did. Daddy loved horses and more than that- he loved seeing the joy it brought his little girl. #bestdaddyever We would ride on Sundays with GraMa and her girls and grandkids in preparation for our big adventure.

"Alright, Don...when are you getting Eden a horse," she would ask.

"If she saves her money and can buy a saddle at Mule Days, then I'll know she is serious about wanting a horse," he said.

I was on it. I put every nickle and dime into a blue velvet bag I had stashed away as a barbie-shoe holder. By the time we were packing up for Mule Days, my little bag seemed to weigh more than I did. I was sure I would have enough money for some kind of saddle. {Real dollar amount, I had about $85}

I remember pulling into town in our old grain truck- Mom, Daddy & I all crammed onto the bench seat together. The back of the truck was filled with hay and we were towing the lowboy with two carriages on the back. {#oldschoolgypsy}

"Look, a horse!! Another one!! There's two!!" I shouted.

"Calm down, bud!" Daddy said, half laughing, half aggravated with maneuvering a giant trailer through herds of folks on horses.

After settling in to what I thought was absolute heaven, we walked down to the tack vendors to start searching for the perfect saddle for the perfect amount of money. I met an older cowboy with a long-twisty mustache with nicotine stains around his nostrils. He looked gruff but approached me and my little blue bag of change.

"Can I help you find something, miss?" he asked.

"Um, well...I am here to buy a saddle. I don't have a horse yet. But my daddy promised me if I saved all my money this summer and if I bought a saddle- he would get me a horse," I explained.

I handed him the bag. As he peeked into the bag, he knelt down to be level with my eyes.

"You pick out whatever saddle you want, baby. I will throw in all the fixings," he said.

I wasn't even sure what that meant. But I left there with a beautiful black leather saddle with silver conchos, a new pad, girth, and bridle to match.

The next year, Daddy and I rode up to the same vendor on our horse, Sham, that I had gotten for Christmas a few months after my saddle purchase. I was so proud to show him all of the tack on my very own horse. {The story of how Sham arrived on Christmas morning is a post in itself.}

It takes a village to raise a true cowgirl.

Scary Shadows

Horse people know when they have found that horse. The one horse they have a stronger bond with than they share with most humans. The horse that with one nicker, one nuzzle or even just a simple look- you can tell exactly what they are thinking...and they can tell exactly what you need.

Recently, I've been taking my 'Pretty Fly White Guy', Tristan, out for evening strolls on his own. Leaving a pasture mate {security blanket, boss mare} at home can tend to create new obstacles. The first outing, I didn't test him...we rode down the road with many scary boat-monsters on blocks, with dumpsters that scary monsters jump out of, passing by the tarps that flapped in the wind, clearly showing their fangs. I let him look and take his time.

The next outing, we walked up to the dumpster {scary monster home} and sniffed it. Tristan snorted so loudly he scared himself...and myself. We rode down to the end of the road and out towards the docks to see a new monster. Boats in water...floating. {Clearly this is unnatural and unsafe, right?}

With each ride, Tristan's confidence grew and our bond got stronger. He didn't spook at the same 'monster' twice, he was aware and protective, but not screaming like a teenage girl in a haunted house. Each night after I unsaddled him- I would thank him for keeping me safe and he'd nuzzle me right back, thanking me for keeping him safe too.

Last night we went out just before dark. I needed the ride more than anything after a very long and stressful day. {A horse ride to a cowgirl after a stressful day is equivalent to an entire bottle of wine.} Tristan did great, we could both feel my stress fading away with each step he took. And then I did it...I ruined the calm horse by leaning forward and patting his neck.

"Good boy, T..."

He jumped-in-place, snorted and farted all at the same time. I look around- there was nothing but a man in the distance working on his boat.

He snorts again, at the pavement.

"Tristan...it's your shadow! See?" I said moving my hand around.

He jumps, ears squared out like a donkey, and snorts again.

"You are literally scared of your own shadow."

Snorts again.

Sometimes no matter how big and strong you want to be, your biggest obstacle is yourself. 

The shadows reminded me of the fears that had grown in my own head before taking Tristan out, without his boss-mare. I worried he would be a complete psycho. I worried he would hurt me. I worried he would have a Storm-sized meltdown {the horse who almost killed me, who was promptly sold} even with our strong bond. I worried...about everything.

Thankfully, all those worries were just shadows...they weren't real. (And I didn't even have to jump/snort/fart to realize that.)

When A Dignified Cowgirl Goes Camping...And Meets A Racist

A few weekends ago, I did something I haven't done in years. I went away for the weekend with my cowgirls and our horses. We spent the weekend in a cornfield...totally roughing it. Well, roughing it with a horse-trailer that had a shower, toilet and heat. (Things have changed a lot since my last camping trip.)

The first night, we were all excited to cook our steaks on the grill...and sip our lemonade and vodka cocktails while watching our horses nibble on hay. Except...none of us knew how to use the grill. (When Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping...reality show coming soon.) Thankfully, our (brunette) friend, Laina, cooked our steaks for us...but we forgot the steak knives- so we had to tear into the steak like we were on The Walking Dead. (But I think even they have steak knives.)

Later that evening, we joined lots of other cowgals at the barn & drank...and danced...and drank. It was a great group of folks- everyone laughing and genuinely having a great time. (It could've been the fact that it was 35 degrees outside...and the barn had heat.)

We walked back to the trailer about midnight, totally exhausted. The heat felt amazing...right up until the electricity in the trailer...cut off. (When Drunk Blonde Cowgirls Go Camping?) The generator was on...but nothing was working inside the trailer. It was way too much to comprehend. Thankfully we figured out we'd blown a fuse or a circuit or something- and as quick as the power shut off, we got it back on.

The following day was the big ride. I had been concerned that Tristan may revisit his prancing actions from the parade the previous year. He did...but this time there was no elderly couple for him to bolt towards. We pranced and spun circles for roughly 6 hours. It had the potential to be a stressful day- but I totally enjoyed every minute of it. It was so much fun to be around all my girlfriends, all decked out in Dignified Cowgirls gear.

Later that evening, we all met back up at the barn for more dancing...and apple pie. (Did you guys know that isn't just dessert!? I've never been so happy and proud to be southern in my life!) We were all attempting to learn the wobble...since the DJ played it about 27 times...when a fella approached me. 

"I wanna ask you something," says the fella dressed in head-to-toe orange.

Now, if you know me, you know that Drunk Eden can be one of two things- your lovable best friend, or the bitch who will claw your eyes out b/c you pissed her off. And the line between the two? Very, very thin.

"Me? What do you wanna ask me?!" I said.

"I just wanna know why...why all you dance to is that n*gger music!" he says, stone faced, dead serious.

My heart was beating so loud, I could no longer hear any other noises that surrounded me. I floated outside my body and watched myself strangle the orange stranger- and slam his lifeless head into the concrete floor. (It was a dark moment.) 

"What did you just say to me!?" I asked...snapping out of my dark moment, thinking maybe I had missed something. People like this don't really still exist today, do they? 

But I hadn't missed anything. I'd heard him correctly the first time. I wondered why, of all the people dancing in the barn...he chose me to ask this question. I think God sent him to me...because homeboy was about to get an earful from a blonde-cowgirl-rapper-wife. (And a drunk one, at that.)

"Because it keeps racist assholes like YOU away from us...that's why!" I said.

He tried to butt-in...but I pressed on.

"So that's how you classify all hiphop music, huh? That's what you call it? Let me just tell you something..." I proceeded...at this point, I believe my finger was in his face about a quarter of an inch away from his eyeballs. (His friends scattered.)

"Hip hop is all colors, shapes and sizes...you dumb, redneck *^*$)#@)*%&" (Keep in mind, my shirt read "Dignified Cowgirls" on it. The words coming out of my mouth might not have been dignified, but the topic I was preaching? Totally effing dignified.)

About that time, my sistah, walked over to the DJ and requested Jump Around. 

"I, I...I'm not racist! I listen to 50 Cent!" he proudly proclaims.

"Well...good for you. You do realize he's a black man, right? Like our President?" I said. (Not sure why I felt like I needed to toss Barack into my argument...but whatever. I'll blame the apple pie.)

Then I heard the intro to Jump Around...and something took over my entire body, mind, soul and mouth...and I began jumping like I was in the NBA and screaming every word to Jump Around into the orange-redneck-racists face. (There is video of this...that I will take to my grave. House of Pain would probably totally sue me for the horrendous rendition. I could hardly walk the next day.)

I'm not sure if my words really changed the orange-redneck-racists life...but I can pretty much guarantee one thing- he will think twice before he asks a question like that again. I'm pretty sure if my words didn't terrify him...my dancing/jumping did the trick.

Introducing....

Like I said in my previous post...you can never replace a horse. With each horse, the mold is broken- they all have their personality quirks and different ways of loving you....just as you do with them.

I knew deep in my heart months ago that I would have to let Broadway go. I found myself looking online at available horses for sale and thinking, wishing that I could go on trail rides with Broadway. I'd look through the ads, picture myself on a ride with my cowgirl friends...get frustrated and go to the barn to soak hooves or administer pain medication. I mourned Broadway so much while he was still alive and in pain, that when we said our goodbyes...it was healing in a way.

A few days after his passing, the cowgirl warriors started finding amazing horses for me to try. And when I say warriors, I mean they were sending ads from all over the damn place...horses that seemed so perfect. Even though I knew not to get too excited...not to get my hopes up b/c most people who sell horses are bat-shit-crazy (think backyard car dealer)...I couldn't help myself. I'd read each listing and picture myself on that horse- but now when I pictured myself on another horse, it was just excitement that I felt in the pit of my stomach- not dread or frustration like before.

Early in the morning, the day before I met my new horse...I received an email with a link to an ad on craigslist in the Lynchburg area. My best cowgirl warrior, my sistah, Danielle, said only "CALL THIS ONE ABOUT THE HEIGHT!!"

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked at the ad.

"It's a CREMELLO PAINT!? WITH BLUE EYES!?!" I said out loud.

I immediately texted the seller...and we texted literally all day long.

At 4:30am the next morning, I jumped out of bed and rushed out the door to hook up my horse trailer. I sweated gallons hooking it up, but the heat was the last thing on my mind. I felt like I did on Christmas morning when I got my first horse. The excitement was uncontainable.

I picked up Danielle and her daughter an hour and a half later and we began our almost 6 hour trip to test out the craigslist cremello. My nerves were all over the place- I was excited, nervous and terrified. I've bought horses and been totally burned by the sellers...I've done the crazy-horse-that-tried-to-kill-me thing. I just want sane...and well, pretty. My mom's words rang in my head, "Be picky...there is no hurry." 

We arrived at the barn at high noon...and 145 degrees. (OH! And one of my favorite parts to this story- my cousin lives like 5 minutes down the road from the barn! So she came with us!!)

So yes...high noon, hot as hell. We all introduce ourselves and I see him. He nuzzles my hand and I quietly tell my heart to be still. We walk down the mountain (ok, it's more like a small hill- but I'm a flatlander) to a small ring and I watch the owner ride him....then I ride him. The smile on my face widens. My heart is not listening to me tell it to be still. Not. At. All.

"Do you want to go out on a little trail ride?" the owner asks.

"YES!" Danielle's daughter and I answer at the same time.

The owner laughs and grabs an extra horse...and we ride off into the most gorgeous countryside I've ever seen. Rolling hills of clover...that I slowly cantered over on the horse that my heart was quite quickly falling in love with.

We arrived back to the barn and discussed the "biznas" part of the trip. The owner agreed that if after two weeks I'd found any issues with him, that I could return him for a full refund. I'd only known him a few hours and I already couldn't imagine what I'd do if I had to return him. I handed her a white envelope, Sopranos style, bubble wrapped my new baby...and off we went. Well...almost.

Meet Tristan, 5 y/o...clearly both him & I needed some purple shampoo to rinse the yeller'out. (His previous owner was so sad to see him go.)

I probably would've ridden him home if it wasn't 145 degrees out...not gonna lie. I was so thrilled...more thrilled than a child on Christmas. BUT- I had the looming vet visit hanging over me...and on the long drive home- the 'what ifs' played through my mind.

Thankfully, that was a big ole waste of time! The vet came out & said Tristan is a healthy boy! AND HE'S OFFICIALLY MINE!!!!

Tristan has many AKAs thus far: 

Vanilla Ice (are you singing the song now? Stop. Collaborate...)

Pretty Fly for a White Guy

The list goes on...but I don't want to offend white rappers whose name I may or may not call my horse. However, pretty much any white rapper joke that can be told, I tell him. On a daily basis. I mean...he's in a white rapper family- it's just unavoidable. Sometimes he jumps around...while I tell him jokes. (badumchi)

We've switched things around a little...and Tristan will be living at a boarding facility instead of at my parents. As strong as I try to be, there are too many 'horses from the past' memories there and I am ready to have a fresh start. I'm thrilled with my new boy...did I mention that?

I'm thrilled. ;-)

All Sorts of Crazy

Tis the season...for what? You might ask. Well apparently, tis the season for hysterical meltdowns, that's what. I'm going to tell you a little story about the day I made just about anyone and everyone I encountered super uncomfortable.

It's May- which is the end of Little Miss's career as a preschooler. It seems like just yesterday I made the phone call to get her enrolled just after her 3rd birthday. On this particular morning, I was shooting her preschool's graduation photos...with...their...caps and gowns. (Is anyone else already tearing up? Just me?) I handled it relatively well until I saw my little preschooler in her cap and gown. Her entire school career flashed before my eyes and I saw her walking across the stage at Waterside Theater- just as I did when I graduated high school. (It didn't help that we were shooting the photos right next to Waterside Theater. Brilliant idea, photographer.) I put my sunglasses on and managed to keep it together enough that I don't think anyone realized I was totally losing my shit. After individual pictures, the class went back to school to get ready for the big group shot and I ran up to the barn to give Broadway his breakfast.

We all know what an animal fruit loop I am, right? It's been discussed? I have a lot of animals and treat them all like they're less furry and have two legs? Yea, that's pretty much it.

Broadway has been moving considerably better since he got his Christian Louboutin's on his feet. (That's what I call his fancy heart bar shoes.) I was thrilled to see his progress- he was no longer just standing out in the pasture, he was on the move! However, on this particular morning he wasn't his new-self...he was back to his old, 'I'm hurting, Fix it for me' self. He was propping his leg out and practically pointing to his hoof. I know this may seem expected- and I should've expected it. Broadway went from practically lame to "healed" in a matter of days. Why wouldn't I expect a setback or two? Because I don't want setbacks- I don't want it to take weeks- I want him fixed NOW. He's been through so very much- from weight issues to an issue that only geldings can suffer from that I won't go into details with on my blog, to arthritis issues, to hoof issues...and now more? Seriously, how much more can we go through? 

I sat down in the dirt and cried. I cried because I couldn't fix him. I cried because of all he's been through. I cried because I was terrified that this was it. This was going to be the one thing I couldn't fix...and I was going to lose him. Yes, I went there. A leg prop and sad eyes took me to that place. I was certain this was the end.

I pulled myself together and headed off to do the preschool group photo. I couldn't tell anyone why my makeup was smudged all over my face- I could't find the words to say it out loud. The only thing I could manage to find were tears. 

In between the group photo and pickup time, I read my friend Laura's blog. Escaping into someone else's world was just what the doctor ordered. I read this post and laughed so hard it dried my tears. (Thank you, Laura for spraying your husband in the mouth with a water hose.)

I thought I was starting to feel okay. I'd left a message with the vet and the tech I spoke with felt like Broadway was having a normal setback and everything was probably fine. (But she thought I needed to be on medication- because you know, I cried when I told her what was happening with him.) I "cowgirl'd up" and went inside to get Little Miss....totally avoiding eye contact with everyone and managed to make it back to the car without crying. Sweet.

Then the phone rang. It was one of my favorite people- another mom of a graduating preschooler, an awesome friend...who thought I was mad at her.

I instantly broke out into hysterically crying...which, I'm sure, made it nearly impossible for her to understand me. But bless her heart- she listened to me, told me I wasn't crazy and comforted me by saying she knew everything would be okay. I believed her, it was going to be okay.

Little Miss and I picked up my daddy for lunch and ran into another sweet friend of ours...who is a pool genius and is turning our "pond" in our backyard back into a pool. (Seriously, she's amazing. It was so gross even snakes were disgusted by it.) She is an animal person like myself...obviously she is b/c she braves the dobermans in the backyard to reach the pool the snakes are afraid of. I left her to work her magic and told her I have my phone if she needs me.

Except Little Miss was playing a game on said phone and shut the sound off...so I didn't hear her call when she called to say the dogs (2 of the 3) had gotten out...of the backyard...that they never leave.

Holy hell. I screamed at a waiter "I NEED MY CHECK!" like a mad woman. All I could picture was Sassy and Calvin (Zorro was in the house) as road kill. They are protective, they are wonderful guard dogs...but street smart? Pahaha, no. Cars? They're fun things to dart in front of, right?! I was trying my hardest to not freak the hell out because 1) I was in a restaurant with my father and daughter and 2) I was with my daughter...who adores these dogs and 3) Let's face it, Little Miss is her mother's child- she was already thinking the worst.

I ran to the car, dragging Little Miss and took off. The restaurant happened to be less than a minute away from my house but it seemed like forever. I prayed I would round the corner and see them waiting for me- but no. I grabbed Zorro & set out running screaming (and crying at this point) "SASSY!! CALVIN!! COME HOME, BABIES!" (This would be the moment all of my neighbors confirmed that I was all sorts of crazy.) The mail lady happened to be delivering our mail and told me she thought my dogs were at the elementary school...probably terrifying children by their vicious licks. I started running towards the school and when I rounded the corner...what did I see? Two little dobies, running wide open (but so close together they looked like they were attached) tongues waggin', legs all over the place. I was so thrilled to see them that at first I wasn't mad at all. Shortly after their return, I found out they not only went to the elementary school- but also to a lawyers office on the main road....then I grounded them. Our pool whisperer was such a help- she drove all over town looking for them. Only a true animal person would do that...she was just as worried as I was.

So now that my day from hell is over...I can laugh at myself a little. It wasn't until today that I was able to do that though. The vet called me from a neighboring town this morning- he had to come down here for an emergency and wanted to see if I'd like to have Broadway checked out. Um, yes, please. Turns out- he had an abscess in his hoof that was trying its best to make its way out- but the Christina Louboutin's were putting a stop to it. Once the vet removed his shoe on the "bad" leg- the abscess burst and he instantly felt much better.

And so did I. 

Tough Topic

This post will not give you the warm fuzzies. In fact, it may make you sick to your stomach.

Two words to test you to see if you can handle reading forward- horse slaughter. 

In 2007, the last active horse slaughterhouse in the US was shut down. Today, horses are transported to Canada and Mexico, crammed inside low-ceilinged trucks with no food or even a sip of water- to be slaughtered. Late last year, Congress restored funding for U.S. inspectors to oversee horse slaughter, making it legal once again for horses to be slaughtered in the U.S. Many "horse people" are all for this, shockingly, stating that 'at least the US can regulate the slaughter' and go on about how many unwanted horses there are.

When I was 10 years old, my family and I adopted a horse named Brandy. He had been abused in every way possible. He was hundreds of pounds underweight and terrified of almost everything and everyone. Everything was an enemy to him. Prior to meeting us, he'd been rescued by another horse-lover who knew he would never survive. Brandy changed my life.

Last year, my life was changed yet again. I walked into a horse barn full of gorgeous horses and saw one tall, sad boy with a blanket on. He was the one I'd driven hours to see. He was walked out into the aisle way- and when his blanket came off, my heart sunk. I could count every rib and place my head into his hip. He was terribly skinny- terribly helpless...I knew he had to come home with me. A little over a year later, he's "as healthy as a horse." Where would he be if there was a horse slaughterhouse nearby? I never would've found him. 

Let me ask you this- where do you draw the line? If horse slaughter is legal, when are the lines for the horses that are abused at their homes? The horses who are abused long before they reach the slaughter? Will these owners be fined or paid for turning in their horses for slaughter? How many people even know what slaughter really entails?! Do you? If you don't and you are squeamish, I encourage you to skip this part. I'm not squeamish at all- and when I say at all...I mean nothing makes me sick. Researching horse slaughter this last day or so- watching the videos, reading the articles, seeing the photos...even I couldn't handle it.

The following video cannot be embedded due to it's content. Click here link to find out the real deal on horse slaughter. (This video is from a slaughterhouse in Mexico.)

These horses are repeatedly bludgeoned with a "dead-bolt" gun- this gun drives a spike into their skull, rendering some, not all unconscious. (Keep in mind, the operators of the guns are not trained.) Many horses are strung up by their hind leg while squealing for their lives- just before their throats are slit and they're left to bleed to death. They're then dismembered and their meat is sent off for human consumption in foreign countries such as France and Japan.

I recently read that the North Carolina Horse Council supports horse slaughter. At this point, I wasn't surprised- as many horse people have argued the "pros" of horse slaughter with me recently. I've argued my point over on the NCHC Facebook page- mostly to have irrelevant questions tossed my way.


One said:
"How would you like YOUR horse to die if it had a broken leg right now? Poison it with lethal injection solution so that the meat is unusable and put it in a hole to rot?"
Like I said, mostly irrelevant. However, if my horse had a broken leg, I would call a vet. I wouldn't transport him to a slaughterhouse. Furthermore- my horses are my family. Not to sound like the crazy horse lady, but they are! Yes, I would poison my horse to guarantee he would be out of pain, kiss him goodbye and bury him in his pasture. I would not eat him, Hannibal Lecter.


Another said:
"PETA even supports it! It's in Horse & Rider!"
Is it? Interesting. Every article I've read regarding PETA and horse slaughter states they are against horse slaughter. However, they did state (supposedly, this wasn't a quote from their website) that they would be in more support of horse slaughter in the US, than transporting horses to Canada and Mexico. I can see how a journalist could chop that quote right up to fit a "Pro-Slaughter" article. (Remember, I majored it journalism...I'm part scumbag!)


Another said:
"This will stop overcrowding! Maybe it will slow down backyard breeding!"
Someone needs to smack the shit out of you. 


This issue clearly bothers me. It hits me where it really hurts. I'm a tenderhearted animal lover- but for reals, ya'll- I will turn into a raging, lunatic, psycho bitch over this. Please sign the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act of 2011  and encourage your friends, family and neighbors to do the same.

Confessions of a Horse Lover: More Than A Vet Check

Horses are funny animals. Certain horses- nothing phases them. You could take them to a mountain top, in the freezing cold and they'd eat their hay and grain just as well as they do at their own barn. Other horses need time to adjust.

After a few days at our barn, my new fella still wasn't quite adjusted. It concerned me- with his already thin frame, that a few days with no grain could be a tell-tale sign of a bigger issue. What do you do when you have a concern like this? You call for backup.

My backup arrived and we discussed possible issues as to why he may not be eating. Everything from ulcers to the simple- he just doesn't like his old feed from his old home. With horses, the issue is almost never as simple as they just don't like their grain...but this time- it was! While discussing the grain issue, we noticed some serious weakness in his hind legs. He wouldn't fall over when tugged on- but he was far from resistant. This is a key symptom in horses who have Equine Protozoal Myeloencephalitis or EPM. I was devastated. I couldn't even research it b/c it made me so sick to think that someone could sell a horse with this disease...especially to someone who'd be riding this horse with a child.

Conversations with the previous owners flooded my mind almost like a dam breaking. But they said he was shown hunt seat? He was a jumper? How could he do all those things with all this weakness? Is this why they traded me?

The following day I went for a ride with some of my favorite girlfriends, on one of their extra horses. The talk was mostly about my new horse...and what our options were. (I say our because that's how horse-people are. If you're in a funk, they're going to be in the funk with you...until you find a way out of the funk.) We discussed possible treatments, other diseases that could cause the weakness and even that it could just be from malnutrition. I don't think any of us really thought it could be malnutrition- that's just way to simple right?

One of my other good friends called me daily. She worried just as much as I did about my new fella. On the morning of the vet visit, I got a call from her...which I thought was just to tell me the ETA of the vet b/c he was coming from her place. 

"So, we'll be heading over in a few minutes," she told me.

"The vet will be?" I asked.

"Well, yea...soon- but we're coming for support...for you. And because, you know- we just really want to hear the vet say he's ok!" she said.

What can I say? I'm blessed with some amazing friends.

The vet arrived and started right in with the shot giving, teeth checking exam. I hesitated mentioning anything about EPM- I guess I didn't want to jinx it. I told the doctor that I'd noticed some weaknesses here and there with my new boy and he stopped me, told me to walk him in several small circles. My heart was in my throat as we circled tightly. I held my horse's face, as if that would change the outcome in my favor.

"What he has is like this...he's very thin, with very little muscle. So it would be like you standing on stilts. There is not muscle connected those stilts to your actual leg, right? So you'd be a bit wobbly at times...that's how he feels with those long legs," he told us.

"So it's not EPM?" I asked with tears in my eyes. (covered by large sunglasses)

"No. I'll tell you why..." he began explaining.

I could hardly listen to why it wasn't EPM because the words 'he's fine' kept ringing in my head. I hugged my horse, I hugged the doctor, I choked back tears until the vet left...and then the happiness flowed right out my eyeballs.

That afternoon (per doctor's approval) I took my new fella, Broadway "Mr. Big" Braunstein, out for his very first ride around town. We brought along our friend, Cindy, who shared in prayers and support through the two weeks of unknown. Mr. Big and I took it along slow, just walking the streets of Manteo together. I could literally feel our bond growing with the sound of each hoof hitting the pavement. Mr. Big is not all about other horses, which is a welcome change. He sniffed noses with my friend's mare, Dice, but quickly pinned his ears back- as if to say, "don't get to close...I won't share my food with you, no matter how pretty you are." He is a wise man, another welcome change. He wants to protect his rider- so long as they protect him.

As soon as our ride was over, I was ready to ride again. However, the weather didn't so much cooperate with us until this weekend. We set out for our first trailered-ride together. My friends, Cindy and Mary joined us...and we had the most amazing time. Mr. Big did a phenomenal job. We ran into several obstacles that would've sent me up into the treetops had I been on Storm- but Mr. Big stopped, looked and carried on- like it was no big thing. (Because a go-cart really isn't a big thing!)

Thank you all so very much for the thoughts and prayers for a healthy vet-check. It was so much more than just a clean bill of health to me- it was the gain of a new best friend and companion. :)

Confessions of a Horse Lover: Decisions

The act of becoming a horse owner is possibly the cheapest and easiest decision an equine-lover will make. That's not to say that being a horse owner is a cheap or that the decisions that follow the initial purchase of your new equine friend will be extremely easy. In fact, it's quite the opposite. The decisions that follow are always complicated, costly and sometimes, heart-wrenching. 

Several months ago, I began noticing a change in my equine friend. He was more aggressive and just generally annoyed at well...everything. I felt totally responsible. I'd been busy with everything...Little Miss, work, life, etc. I thought with a little time and some extra love, he'd be back to normal in no time. I thought wrong. On several occasions, I hopped onto his back & after about 15 minutes of calm, cool, normal horse- he turned into a bucking, rearing bronco. I still felt like with some more time, he'd snap out of it. Again, wrong. (Probably because at no point during those riding experiences did I have to propel myself onto the ground.) The thought of 'giving up' on my boy wasn't an option...but then he began exhibiting the rowdy behavior when I wasn't even on his back! Even though he was getting progressively worse instead of better, I was sure we could work through it. A few weeks ago, I decided to saddle him up and take him for a spin around the block. I vowed to ride him around the block every day for a week, in hopes to 'get the funk out'. We got about 5 houses away from the barn when he reared so high I thought he was going to flip over backwards on top of me. This is no exaggeration, folks. I asked God to please...let me be able to walk again...please, don't let anything be broken that won't heal quickly. I was sure I'd be a pancake. Thankfully, he didn't flip over...oh no, he came straight down with roughly 15 bucks before I dove off into someone's front yard. (Thanks for the padded-sod, neighbors!) He stopped when I landed and looked me right in the eyes. There was no fear or embarrassment in his eyes. He had a look of accomplishment...like he'd gotten what he wanted. I got back on his back and felt like I was sitting on top of a ticking-time-bomb. His body felt like a cork, getting ready to shoot out of a champagne bottle.

My whole body ached the next day...but what hurt the most was my heart. I've considered my horse my best friend since the first moment I saw him. We've come so very far in just a year and a half to go so far back. I took it personal. I work very hard to keep him safe, healthy and happy for him to work so hard to hurt me. I knew, no matter how much time passed and how many great rides we had, I would never ever trust him around Little Miss again. The relationship between a horse and rider is much like a marriage, once the trust is broken...what's the point? 

I have had to say good-bye to horses in my lifetime...horses that meant the world to me. But when I said good-bye to them, it wasn't my choice...it was God's choice. If I could've kept them forever, I would've have never said good-bye. So, I knew this decision to say good-bye wouldn't be easy. Naturally, only the good times flooded my mind...but the trust-issue rang louder than a gong on a cable television show.

I found a place I thought would both be able to handle my bipolar horse and would keep him safe, well-fed, sheltered, etc. They trained horses and then sold them...which I was fine with- as long as no one would get hurt, particularly my equine friend. In conjunction with finding him a new home, I also found a horse who seemed to be absolutely perfect...who was ironically, boarded at the same barn.

My dad and I set out for the 5 hour drive to take my old friend, Storm to his new home and look/pick up a new friend. Storm proved he was aptly named by refusing to get into the trailer, almost trampling me numerous times and taking his halter off not once, but twice on the westward drive. My nerves were shot by the time we arrived....in the dark...in the rain. It set my mind at ease that the new owners were excited to meet Storm & weren't nervous about his spirited personality. They had a beautiful barn, filled with horses who seemed well-fed and content...all except for one. 

The largest of the stalled steeds, who was the only one wearing a blanket, was walked into the aisle way to be introduced to me. His kind eyes and large body reminded me of my Brandy- the horse who still holds my heart, even from heaven. I blew in his nose, his ears perked up- as if my story was flooding his brain. He nuzzled my vest as his current owner took his blanket off of him. My heart sunk. He was incredibly underweight. I could tell he'd been eating something but not what he should. I stopped hearing what his owner was telling me and started hearing him...I need you. 

As much as he needed me, I needed him to need me. Storm stopped needing or wanting me- I had become old news to him. Maybe he needed a herd? Maybe he needed a cart-job? Maybe he needed...something else? This new boy just needed love...and someone who really cared. Someone who cared enough to research what food he needed and not just chalk his weight-loss up to 'he's just not hungry'. He needed to be treated like a pet a little more than just a horse. 

I climbed onto the new boy's back and rode him around the barn in the rain. He did everything I asked him to do, almost before I asked him to. I heard a horse holler from the barn as we rode- it was Storm. At that moment, I wished I knew what he was saying to me. He knew he was being traded. He knew he wasn't mine anymore. It broke my heart.

I got the new fella into the trailer and walked back into the barn one last time. I had to fight back the tears- God knows I won't cry in front of a perfect stranger...they have to think I'm tough as nails. I grabbed his red halter one last time, kissed him and told him good-bye. He looked at me with his wild eyes and sighed. I walked back to the truck alone and the tears flowed down my face.

"That was hard," I said as I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Why, honey?" my daddy asked.

"Because...I love him," I told him, hardly getting the words out before my silent tears turned into sobbing.

"He's going to be safe here. This is the best place for him. You can't get hurt on him, baby...you have Riya to think about." 

"I know...I know...but it's still so hard, Daddy."

I cried until we got back out to the main road. I knew I made the right decision- and I felt like, no matter what kind of people these folks were (b/c I'd gotten the feeling they were a little shady) they'd be able to handle Storm. 

The days that followed were difficult. I kept slipping up and calling the new boy, Storm, instead of his actual name. (Which I'm changing...to something. Ideas?) Along with the weight issue, I noticed some weaknesses here and there with him. I attempted to call his previous owner...interestingly enough, she refused all my calls. (All that is a post in-itself. Let's just say...I hope the previous owner takes a ride on Storm.;-)

The vet will be coming to the barn on Tuesday to check out my new fella. I'm praying that everything will be fine, but am prepared for the worst. Well...maybe not the worst but I'm prepared for a less than perfect report. Say a prayer for us? This new fella and I are already fast friends...his kind eye and calm heart have stolen mine. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us...but for now, I'm praying just for healthy.

Ponzer, NC

Storm & I (and lots of other horses and horse folk) spent all day Saturday in Ponzer, NC. What is in Ponzer, you might ask? Nothing. A gas station, appropriately named "The Store", lots of farm land, hunting camps and a little trail ride we decided to attend.

It was the 3rd Annual "Thumbs Up" trail ride- we quickly found out just before taking the trails. Our "trail boss" held her hand up, as if to do the thumbs up sign...but had no thumb. She explained that the first year they hosted the ride, she lost her thumb. Glad we're starting on a positive note, I thought to myself.

Sometimes you just have to rock out with your spurs out...

This is part of our group- waiting for our thumbless trail boss...something we did most of the ride.

One of my favorite parts of the ride was taking the horses out into the Intracoastal Waterway for a swim. Here are some of my favorite gals letting their horses cool off in the waterway.

Mandy & I- taking a self portrait while our horses were stuffing their bellies.
(Thanks for being such a great friend, Mandy! ♥ you!)

After the ride we took the horses all the way out into the waterway for a real swim. Storm & I were both drenched from our heads to our toes/hooves. It is an incredible feeling to have a horse trust you enough to take swimming- to feel him swim under your body. Only real horse people would understand the adrenaline rush you get the first time. :)

Storm's previous owners attended the trail ride, as well. They were amazed at all we (me & him) have accomplished over the last few months.

*I will post more pictures as I get them...there is one that I'm dying to see of me, Storm, Mandy & Ace in the waterway while a huge sailboat passes us.

I'm Ready

Eight years ago I lost my best friend. He was 26 years old and had been in my life since he was 18. Together I felt like we could conquer the world. I remember visiting the barn who originally rescued him from his abusive home, just 2 weeks after my first horse passed away. (Although Sham was my first horse, she was hardly my best friend. She taught me a lot in the 2 short years we had her, but she was more like a bitchy aunt than a best friend.) I watching him prance and pace back and forth- snorting and stomping. He seemed kind but nervous and scared. It was obvious that he needed someone to love him- as he was only about 900lbs. (Considering his height, he only a few days away from dying had he not been found.)

A few weeks after we brought him home, I came inside crying. I told my mom and dad that Brandy would never love me like Sham did. (The previous owner was an alcoholic and named him after the liquor.)

I ran inside crying because Brandy wouldn't stay in his stall with me while he ate his dinner. It broke my heart that he didn't trust me....and in my 10 year old mind, I thought he never would.

A few months later, Brandy trusted me to not only stay in the stall with him while he ate- but to sit on him while he laid down in the backyard to rest. From then on, the trust I had for him and the trust he had for me was endless.

August 16th, 2001- after several days of heartbreak, I lost my best friend. The doctor's told us it was kidney failure. I found Brandy laying in the backyard a few days before & he wasn't able to get up. I pulled and begged him- please don't give up- until he finally got up...for me. The next few days we tried to keep him comfortable and cool, as it was unbearably hot. We'd been in the barn with him constantly- between me, my mom & Missy- I don't think he was alone at all over those few days. Somehow, we'd all come inside- one to nap, one to use the bathroom, etc. That's when it happened. He had a nosebleed- and I found traces of his blood on the chair I was sitting on and all the way up to the stairs leading into the house. He was looking for me.

We found him laying in the entryway to his stall- his body still warm. I laid down beside him and prayed that he would visit me in my dreams. And he does.

I didn't know if I would ever be ready to have my own horse again. My heart still hurts as bad as it did on that hot day in August when I lost my boy- but now, I'm ready to put my trust in another equine...and I think I've found just the perfect one, who needs my trust as much as I need his.

Introducing: WhatUSeeIsWhatUGet AKA: Storm

"Let's get the new guy!""See...told you if we just ignored him, he'd go away...""Ugh! Who made eye contact?! RUN!"So far he seems to be adjusting pretty well to his new home and new friends. Hopefully the "hazing" will end soon & he will be able to join the herd. ;)

And yes, he's a North Carolina horse. Little Miss are heading back that way on Wednesday.