This was supposed to be a story about travel. I have decided that every Friday or so (I’ve always been a little non-committal) I am going to write a story about some of my travels around the world. The story that unfolded in the horse pen last night though is such a good illustration of my life with Horsecrazy, that I couldn’t resist sharing it. Africa will still be there next week.
I had spent the day cleaning my office. Emboldened by my success with Batman’s room, I had purchased some new bins (!) at the Super Walmart, dropped the kids off at daycare to play with their friends, and dug in. In short order my formerly slightly messy office looked very similar to the “before” pictures in the “Organizing Batman” post earlier this week, except that instead of heaps of plastic trucks and naked baby dolls it was covered in piles of papers and boxes of files. I took a picture, but it is just too humiliating to share.
Anyway, after two hours of cleaning and then another two engrossed in reading some of my travel journals, I was rushed to go get the kids and pick up the dog from the vet. I think I mentioned that Winston the Maniacal Birddog Puppy was getting neutered this week. I pulled my mind from racing over the plains of the Masai Mara on horseback full tilt after zebra, and climbed into my Durango to go do my rounds.
When I walked into daycare my little angel Horsecrazy started in. It went something like this. Horsecrazy: “Mom! Can I ride?!” Me: “No. it is too late. We have to get the dog and I have to make dinner.” Horsecrazy: “Please, please, please. Can you just saddle Reno?!” Me: “No.” Horsecrazy: “Please please please please I REALLY WANNA RIDE!” Her voice was escalating and in an effort to just get her to the car I said “Maybe.”
Which to me means “No” and to Horsecrazy means “Absolutely!”
Fast forward forty minutes. I pull into the garage and go into the house to change my shoes. Horsecrazy had won the battle of pleading during the ride, but I had negotiated her down to riding bareback, in a halter, in a separate pen, so that I could get the other horses fed and get in the house to get started on my gourmet shake n’ bake pork chops. In other words, I basically told her that whatever she could do on her own, with no assistance from me, she was free to do.
She beat me to the pens, wearing long john bottoms with no pants over them because she absolutely refuses to wear jeans more than once and it was office cleaning day today, not laundry day. What I saw when I arrived caused me to laugh in spite of myself and pull out my phone for some pictures.
She had caught the pony and tied his lead rope into reins, leaving a small length extended for a “whipping rope” (her words, not mine). She’d also brought along a bucket to climb on because she knows from experience it is hard to get Reno to stand close to the fence long enough to get on.
She almost got on on her first try. But didn’t quite make it. She put the bucket back and tried again. The pony moved away. She laughed and moved the bucket.
She tried again. The bucket tipped over. She picked it up. And tried again. And again. And again. Every time the pony moved. Every time she kept moving the bucket.
I have to say she has try, that girl.
Finally! Sweet success! She was on. The pony walked one step, Winston the Maniacal Birddog Puppy barked in exuberance and the pony bucked her off.
This is not unusual. She ends up on the ground pretty much every day. She got back on again, after much bucket maneuvering and pony positioning.
Then she proceeded to trot around the pen at a high rate of speed.
I admonished her “NO loping!” and went in the house to get the beets on to boil. After about thirty minutes I noticed that Horsecrazy was nowhere to be seen. I went back outside.
She was loping around the pen.
She had removed the halter and was holding on to the lead rope looped around Reno’s neck with one hand and the dangling halter with the other. I took some awesome video of the event. For some reason my camera didn’t save it. I am bummed. She’s really pretty good.
Cowboy Batman had fun doing his own riding last night.
Finally, I think Winston was happy to be home. He came in the house when we were all finished up outside and laid down in his kennel. He kept whining softly. I gave him a treat and cooed “What’s wrong boy? Are you OK?” Handsome Hubby answered for him “He says ‘Has anyone seen my nuts? I can’t find my nuts! My nuts are missing!!’”
He’s such a dog whisperer.
I am loving reading these, Paula! I can see how it would be nearly impossible to resist Annabelle’s pleadings to ride! You were undoubtedly the same way, no? And still are? It’s great to hear your voice and I wish you lived closer! Bravo for starting this blog!