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.

I Can Breathe, Again

A few weeks ago I stopped breathing. Two days ago, I started breathing again.

My mom went to the doctor because she'd been having some pains in her side. As it turns out, they found out what was causing the pain- but found a few other things that they wanted to take a closer look at. Upon taking the closer look, they found something that needed a biopsy. When words like malignant and cancerous started being thrown around by the doctor- my hands started sweating, my ears began ringing and I could no longer focus.

My mom is my best friend. Without her, I'm not sure if I would ever, ever get anything accomplished. I call her at least four times per day. We share everything with each other and sometimes, yes...we want to strangle each other, but most of the time- we're best friends who laugh, cry and make fun of ourselves and others. 

I thought about my good friend Donna, who just recently passed away with cancer. I thought about her family and this first holiday season without her. I felt like it was unfair of me to voice my worry to my very good friend, Casey, Donna's daughter. As life would have it, she was one of the only people who made my worry subside.

The doctor's told us before we left their office that the biopsy results could be back by Friday...by Wednesday of the following week, we still had nothing. I was a nervous wreck...I couldn't sleep...I would cry in the bathroom...the thought of Christmas made me nauseous because of the what ifs that were flying through my head.

Wednesday morning I was sitting in my parent's living room when the phone rang- the doctor's office. Mom picked up the phone and walked to the bedroom- I followed right behind her. By the time I realized I was getting no information through pushing my ear up against the closed door, I barged into the room with her. She held up her hand with an okay symbol...and I could finally breathe again.

I couldn't contain my excitement. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that my mom was okay! The best I could manage was posting it on my facebook status. 

Almost immediately, my phone rang. With tears streaming down my face, I answered. It was Casey.

"I heard the good news!" she said.

I cried even harder...but I tried so hard to hide it. Of all of my friends, Casey was the first to call. She just lost her mom to the same ugly disease that I was so thrilled my mom didn't have. She was as excited as I was to hear the news...and wanted to call me to share the moment with me. Not text, not comment on facebook- but call. That phone call meant more than anyone will ever know to me. Thank you, Case...I love you.

Mom will go in the have some minor surgery on the 30th- the first of two. I will be right by her side, whether she thinks she needs me there or not...but this time- neither one of us will have any reason to hold our breath. ;-)

In it for the Cookies

Several weeks ago, Little Miss came home from preschool singing some lovely new holiday tunes. How did I know she learned these at preschool without even so much as asking her? Simple. She sang each word to each song with the exact accent of her teacher. So it was no surprise that she was delighted to head over to her preschool a few days ago for her big Christmas program.

Sidenote: I purchased an adorable Christmas outfit for her to wear to her program- complete with an embroidered Christmas tree on the top. Although it wasn't a dress, which is basically the only thing Little Miss will wear, I hoped that since it was pink...maybe, just maybe, she'd be thrilled with it. No dice, amigo. She plainly looked at the adorable outfit and said "Mom, that is not a dress. I'm not wearing it. I have to wear a dress." Thankfully, her Bub saw all this playing out long before I purchased the adorable Christmas outfit and purchased a zebra dress for her to wear...just in case.

Thanks, Bub. You saved the day.

It started snowing just as we left the house. Could you ask for better weather when you're heading to a Christmas program? I think not! Big, fluffy flakes filled the sky (and stuck to absolutely nothing) as we made our way over to the preschool building. Little Miss was so excited to perform...right up until we walked into her classroom. She agreed to go sit by her teacher, so long as she could face the opposite direction.

New friends and old filed into the classroom. Little Miss decided she'd be a bit social and join the crowd of little people.

But that only lasted a few moments. When the other parents began filing in for the big show, Little Miss high-tailed it into her Gran'Daddy's lap.

After the big show, Little Miss was off to visit with her friends. Her shyness wore right off- just in time for the singing and bell-ringing to be over. I was able to snap a few photos of a couple of my favorite gals, Sydnee and Amie, by the Christmas tree! I've known Amie forever...and now our girls can say the same. ;-)

Who needs singing and bell-ringing, anyway? Little Miss was just in it for the Christmas tree cookies. ;-) And...there is always next year!!

Simply Magical

The holidays are here! It's official- the town Christmas tree has been lit!

One thing I love about living in our small, island town is the small, island festivities. This past Friday, we joined hundreds of local folks to lite the town Christmas tree, sing carols, drink hot chocolate, freeze our tails off, and of course, to meet a jolly ole elf...the jolly ole elf. It was a wonderful time.

It's always a joy to see how Little Miss changes from year to year in regards to Santa Claus. One year she's absolutely terrified, the next year she thinks he's okay as long as I'm in his lap too, but this year? Oh this year she was all

about it. (Particularly because, jolly ole Saint Nick? He looks a heckuva lot like my uncle, Little Miss's great-uncle, Big Gully.)

She insisted on showing Santa the bow on the front of her sparkly dress...in true flasher style. (A dress she fought tooth and nail to wear...) She then told him she would like two fashion Barbies, one for her and one for her Bub...and the Santa movie. ("You know, the one they made about you, Santa.") She could hardly fall asleep that night- talking about how amazing it was to meet Santa. Simply magical.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving was one of firsts.

I cooked my very first turkey. I almost threw-up on said turkey, during the 'prep' process. I cooked two pumpkin pies, for the first time ever...and here is the big first, nothing caught on fire and everything tasted amazing! (Oh, and no one got sick! Yay!)

Although I cooked quite a few dishes at home, we ate dinner over at my parents home. It was nothing short of a smorgousborg of incredible food. Collard greens? Oh yes, with cornmeal dumplings. Yum, it makes my heart flutter like a teenager with her first crush.

Recipes from family members past and present flooded the thanksgiving table, as did the memories. It reminded me to be thankful for things those past relatives have left behind- whether it's a plate or a recipe,  morals or butterfly kisses...never take a moment for granted, they pass by too quickly.

Speaking of recipes, let's talk about dessert and my grandfather's recipe for pineapple cake. Yum-O. Or my daddy's recipe for chocolate-cheesecake...well, it's not actually his recipe, but he found it somewhere & made it wonderfully.

After dinner, Little Miss decided to click her sparkly heels and transform herself into a dancing machine. Let's face it, she didn't need to transform much at all.

I'm thankful she got rhythm from someone else in the family. I look like I'm having small seizures when I 'break-it-down'.

And I'm oh-so-thankful for our four-legged family. They make me laugh on a daily basis- sometimes in the midst of almost-breaking-my-neck from tripping over one-of-the-five of them.

Sweet Pea stalked the kitchen all morning, certain there would be some sort of turkey scraps he'd need to dispose of. Just when he gave up, the bacon was ready. About the time he dropped a tiny bacon crumb, which prompted Tinker to fly in like his butt was on fire, I was moving the over-flowing pumpkin pie towards the oven. Tinker got under my feet and ended up with pie filling from ears to tail. He was thrilled!!

I'm thankful I didn't have a sink full of dishes at that very moment, so I could toss my pie-covered chihuahua into the sink for a bath. (Yes, I bathe him in the sink...in the kitchen.)

Even though the turkey almost didn't get cooked and the pie almost didn't make it to the oven, it was the most perfect Thanksgiving we've ever had. Now, bring on Hanukkah and Christmas! Let the decorating being!!