The Spooky Horse that Could

Some days I'd like to take my animals (horses and dogs) by the neck, shake them like a maraca and tell them to stop ever doing whatever it was that prompted my fit of anger ever ever again. Luckily thinking that thought, or even visualizing it happening does not make you a bad mommy. Doing it does. So instead of paying tribute to my lack of a Hispanic heritage or trying out for a mariachi band with my animals, I collect my thoughts, take several deep breaths, and try my hardest to end on a good note.

Today was no exception. I found myself riding in charcoal breeches, a black helmet and black gloves in a black saddle on a black horse at 1:30pm in Texas. This situation was made more frustrating by the fact that when I not so limberly hopped on Cash his first thought was "Run like the wind Bullseye!" Thank heavens for balance, after we got stopped, tightened the girth 4 holes (haha, ugh.), shortened a stirrup and figured out my rein situation I was ready to go. So was Cash. But not on the rail. Not in a straight line. Not bent to the inside. Not over the ground poles. I pulled right he went left. I gave him influencing leg, he ignored it. When the wind blew he was ready to ninja fight every single monster that has never popped out of those bushes in that arena he's been in for the last 3 weeks. I was pretty much ready to call staying on a good day and call it quits.

I'm not necessarily a brave or risk taking person. But I am a stubborn person. And I do not let my animals win battles that I know will cause problems later on down the road. So I decided, "Let's trot! Cause the walk just isn't working for us. And you know, the faster the better right?!" Well hopefully at this point y'all are all ready to hear a story about how my butt ended up in the dirt and the horse ended up cantering I-told-you-so circles around my limp body. But that's totally not what happened!!

Cash decided that today was the day he was finally going to show me his loose rein trot, not too fast not too slow, not trying to grab the bit and run, bending around beautiful 20-ish meter circles, crossing the arena, and not punching me in the face with his poll. How this horse went from scared of life itself to children's hunter pony in a split-second, poorly made life decision I have no clue, but let me tell you who's a proud, non-maraca playing mommy. This girl.