Wow! For the first time in SEVEN YEARS I stepped hoof into the competitive dressage arena. And, I did quite well, if I must say so myself.

For my SM (surrogate mom) it was her very first time showing in dressage, so she was petrified. I knew that. Plus, my OM (other mom) was there to watch, call out test instructions, and take pictures so that probably added to SM's stress a little. But she shouldn't have worried. My OM was THRILLED to see me gleaming from the grooming efforts of SM, tack shining, tidy braids and good to go.

See what I mean? Gleaming!

We warmed up in an indoor arena with flapping canvas walls. My OM thought I might misbehave, but I knew I had to take care of my SM, so I just chugged around ignoring the scary walls. They said I was being very good.

When it was time to go into the ring and show off what we knew, my SM tightened up, locked herself into one position and stopped breathing. I was worried that she might pass out up there and fall off. But she didn't. My OM read the test and every time we went by her I heard her say "breathe, breathe" and for a brief moment my SM would relax a bit.

According to the judge (I remember her from YEARS ago! OM's friend!), I was very steady rhythmically, and those circles that we practiced, and practiced, were very accurate (my SM is an engineer - she should understand tangent points and circles!).

But, I couldn't allow my SM to be TOO confident so, since she was locked into position and couldn't do anything about it, I lifted my head and neck into camel-mode (as my OM calls it) and refused to put it down. And, it was a hot and sunny day so why would I want to canter much? Nah. Half a circle is enough, isn't it? Apparently not, according to the judge! Ooops. My SM will have to remind me about that next time.

All in all it was a good day. We went into the ring four times and did all right. I scored a bath, extra grooming and attention out of the adventure - plus a pretty easy day, truth be told. And, I had a visit from a very proud Mom. She misses me a lot, I know, but she's happy that I have a great place to live and an attentive SM who continues the tradition of spoiling me rotten.

How things have changed...

I haven't had a lot to say of late since I moved to Fredericton. I have a Surrogate Mom (SM) now who takes very good care of me. My Person (MP) came to visit on Saturday and gave my SM a lesson in how to get me to perform more like a show horse. Drat! I had this down pat. Grab the bit and yank - SM's bottom would rise from the saddle and I could do whatever I wanted. MP recommended a couple of position changes and there went my leverage!

SM and I are going to our first show together in a couple of weeks so I guess I should help her out. She's nice to me and brings carrots every visit. She grooms me until I gleam and am the envy of other horses here at the stable so generally speaking, life is pretty good.

Sometimes I yearn for my days as a pasture potato - just lolling about watching the canoes float by in the river. But, all in all, it's a good life here. I know that MP misses me a lot though. Her eyes leak every time she sees me.

Well, if my PERSON thought her dreams were coming to an end - what about me, the trusty steed?

I knew something was up when she spent extra time grooming me - getting all of my carefully installed encrusted mud out of every embarassing orifice, the knots combed out of my mane and tail and my bridle path clipped. Of course, I thought we might be going to a show. They're always fun.

She gets dressed up. My tack gets cleaned. And, I can show off for the other horses - especially the pretty mares - what a handsome dude I really am.

But no.

An hour later the big rolling barn showed up. They backed it up to the barn door and, to my absolute horror, my winter's supply of hay was loaded on! "Hay! Wait a minute! That's MINE! Are you going to starve me?" Not only that, but the last of my grain, my alfalfa cubes AND my apple chunk horse cookies went too. What the 'h' is going on?

Uh oh. My person came in with the leather halter. That can only mean one thing - onto the rolling can I'm going. Oh yeah - it's loaded with my food. Things might be ok! I won't starve at least.

I'll miss being a pasture potato. I Recognized Deanna - the BOOT CAMP director. Looks like I'm going back to work again. Oh well, I'll have friends there to talk to.

I'm sure going to miss the nightly pats, the carefully cut-up apple and carrot pieces that were my bedtime snack, and knowing that my person would be back first thing in the morning to see to my every heart's desire. But, she'll come and visit - I know it.

Now, if I could just get her eyes to stop leaking salty water all over my freshly groomed coat....

Good thing for her she's got friends and family that care.

Death of a Dream

Although I've known for months now that we have to move and leave our idyllic wee farm, the reality of it hit me, hard, this morning.

I fed Beau, tidied up his stall, filled the water bucket and brushed the night's accumulation of mud and crud from his coat - and realized that he's moving on tomorrow morning. I'm selling or giving away most of my horse and barn stuff and essentially watching my lifelong dream of living on a farm and having my horse at hand die.

So I sat on a bucket and sobbed. Hoover, the dog, didn't know WHAT to do other than sit and lick my salty face while I howled for a while in utter misery.

The realities of growing older include reduced physical strength and stamina with which to handle the chores that need to be done to maintain a place like this. But, since it took me a lifetime to find this spot, it truly breaks my heart to leave - even though I know we have to.

For the past several weeks I've been deluding myself that it's ok; that I'm excited about having a new house and new appliances (which I am). But, it still doesn't compensate for the sense of loss I'm feeling or the torrent of tears that need to be shed.

Nevertheless, I'm resilient to a fault and will, no doubt, bounce back and move on as one must do in this life.

New from Boot Camp

Hi all. Well, I've been at 'boot camp' now for about 10 days. Things started off easy, considering how totally out of shape I am. But, the rumour is that 'easy' is about to be a thing of the past.

At first all "The Trainer" (hereafter known as "TT") wanted was for me to walk around the arena, and maybe trot for a couple of minutes. Yep, I can do that.

But NOW, she's starting to ask me to BEND! What am I? A Slinky? And she expects me to keep trotting at least 2 or 3 times around the arena before I can go back to shuffling along. I think not. I am definitely going to have to introduce her to my repertoire of evasion and resistance tactics.

My human came to visit today and watched our session. She seemed pleased. I suppose she thinks I'll let HER ride me to. Huh! We'll have to talk about THIS for sure! At least she brought me some carrots and made me the envy of my barnmates.

HELP! I need HELP!

I should have known. My person came out to the barn this morning and spent an inordinate amount of time fussing with me. She clipped my bridle path, worked on my coat with the shedding blade and generally had me looking presentable.

THEN, instead of turning me back out so I could undo all of that work by rolling in the manure laden mud, she kept me in! What's with that?

Later on I heard a truck sound. When I looked out the window there was a huge horse trailer parked on the road at the end of our lane. Uh huh. Something's up!

Sure enough, I heard her talking to another person and the next thing I knew, my halter was on and I was taking the long walk down the lane. The other person opened the door to the cavern and the existing inmate screamed at me; "Run, run for your life! This can has wheels!"

Too late, I'd already stepped in and before I could think twice, my person tied me to the wall - and left me, shutting the door behind her. Where am I going now? Please tell me we're not moving back to Calgary. I can't face another 4000 mile ride. She said something about "boot camp". What's that?

If I survive this adventure - I'll keep y'all posted. If not - it's been fun ........

Mother Nature's cruel joke

This day is a cruel joke. After two gorgeous warm spring-like days on the week-end, overnight we reverted to pouring rain and wind. Now, the snow has begun in earnest and the wind is from the NE meaning lots of that white stuff - and the river is rising.

Hmm - where did my person put that ark, anyway?

Spring - hah!

It is, allegedly, spring. The calendar says so. In my world that means "swamp season". Glorious mud to roll in, deep footprints to create in the earth - ah, heaven.

The river is open and, with last night's rain combined with the previous two warm and sunny days, it's running high and hard. The beginning of the annual spring flood is mere millimeters away.

The ducks are back, flying around quacking looking for some place to land and maybe build a nest. There's other wildlife frequenting our little corner of paradise too - an errant moose who apparently doesn't realize he's on the doorstep of civilization, and a hungry bear raiding the nearby butcher (shudder - THAT's another story) shop's offal bin. Luckily neither has ventured through the electric tape fencing protecting me from the marauders.

Grey skies and rain - a good day to hang out in the barn and watch the world float by.

Some privacy, please!

It's been a long, cold winter and, as a result, my personal attendant (a.k.a. "owner") has been somewhat less than diligent about performing certain somewhat repugnant tasks on my behalf (gently cleaning my sheath). Since I'm what is referred to as a "dirty boy", this really needs to be done fairly frequently

She CLAIMS she didn't do it because the temperatures were too cold and the water kept freezing. Personally I think she was avoiding it. Period.

Anyway, last week I blew up like a balloon. I looked like a well endowed stallion, not the gelding I really am. Panic ensued. THEN she tried to clean things up but it was impossible with the swelling. Hah! Fixed her! This required a call to the vet who performed the necessary duties.

Of course, I was completely discombobulated with the various medications they gave me - staggering like a drunken sailor on the first Sat. night in port after months at sea. Talk about taking a trip without leaving the farm. Whoooeee! Who cared what they did to my personal parts? Stick needles in my neck? No problemo! Dude!

It's been several days now and the swelling is slowly receding. So much for my manly appearance! Hmmm.

Heard a nasty rumour

I heard that my person actually has PLANS for me this year. Did she ask me? I think not.

Apparently I'm going to boot camp for a month to 'refresh' my skills. She wants a trainer to remind me why I should be well behaved when my person wants to ride me. Really? In her dreams! Just because she has brittle bones, why does that mean that I shouldn't buck when I feel like it? Hmm.

I tried to weasel out of this by developing a badly swollen sheath. But the vet came and fixed the problem. Darn. He also gave me all my shots so I won't catch anything from the horses at boot camp barn. So much for pretending to be sick to get out of going to school. I'm still thinking about other dodges I might pull. Any suggestions?

It's been a while...

After four years as a part-time freelance writer / photographer and more-than-part-time property manager, my person has FINALLY come to her senses. From here on out she's focusing her efforts on her freelance business and the critters in her life - the Queen (house cat), the Supervisor (barn cat), the Pest (new puppy) and, of course, ME! 

Since winter is rapidly approaching, I'm probably safe for a few months from her efforts to re-train and ride me. I'll be able to continue my relaxing lifestyle as a pasture potato - well fed, groomed and generally pampered - in return for which all I have to do is feign interest when she comes to visit or wants to show me off to her friends, colleagues and clients.

Maybe now she'll also have more time to add my comments to this blog on a more regular basis!

People are slow on the up-take

I've been telling my person for AGES that my back aches. I've been walking with a short stride, hollowing my back and showing a distinct "hitch in my git-a-long". But, could she figure it out? No.

So, I tried bucking like crazy when I was on the lunge line - which only resulted in more work for me. Then I tried bucking when my person was on my back. Ha! She's not that strong and ended up in the dirt several times.

Finally, she sent me to a trainer who recommended a chiropractor. If you haven't had this done you have NO idea what you've missed. I nearly fell asleep while he manipulated every bone in my body. The cracking noise was a little unnerving - for me and my person - but the results were fantastic.

My person said that she hadn't seen my back so round or my stride so long in YEARS! I'm sold.

Greetings from the farm

I arrived here after a 3000 mile cross continent journey. I travelled with 11 other horses in what my person called a transport truck that was specially outfitted for our needs. Each of us had a space just barely wide enough and long enough to stand in with some hay in a swinging net in front of us.

We've moved a lot, my person and I. I was born in Quebec and raised and trained by a French family. When my person bought me, I couldn't speak English at all which must have been frustrating for her as she tried to get me to do even simple things - but I caught on and am functionally bilingual now: I can walk, trot and canter in two languages.

We've lived in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Alberta and now back in New Brunswick all in less than seven years. But this place, these small 5.6 acres, are ours forever. I have a lovely, cosy barn, lots of hay and grain to eat and my person makes sure there's an endless supply of clean, fresh water. During the summer months I have a whole 2.5 acre pasture all to myself, but close enough to the fence line that I can chat with 'Sally', our neighbour's Percheron mare. All in all, life here is looking good.

Signed,

the Pasture Potato