I had an opportunity to go on a trail ride with the trail buddy and her friend to the Hunt Club again.  This would be the same ladies that Hillary and I rode with when she visited.

Not this type of hunt club.

This type.

It was a new experience for me to be in the very back of the pack, on the slowest horse.  Beefcake initially didn't want to canter and was fine with an extended trot.  He has a definite motor but has to be encouraged to use it and did require a few walking breaks.  I can't tell you the last time that I rode that fast for that long (..maybe it was this?) and it was definitely a stupid idea to work legs afterwards at the gym.




There was one point where we were behind a bit and then trail buddy asked her friend, in the lead on a gaited horse, to kick it up a notch.  I got into a gallop position and asked Ox to give me more.

And this is where being on a Thoroughbred has ruined me.  There is always another gear and more gas in the tank.  Asking a TB to gallop is inviting a rocket to launch between your legs.

Because.. Ox said,"Really?  More?  Are you sure?  Well.. how's this?  You want more than this?  Lady, this is a nice, field-safe fast lope.  You don't want more than this."  And I assured him that I did and he gave me a little more oompf and we finally caught up with everyone else.. as they were transitioning back to a walk.  :|


According to Endomodo, which I use to track my rides on Ox, we completed 6.87 miles in 1:25:44.  Our average speed was 4.8 mph (compared to Archie's ~3 mph walk) with a max speed of 16.2 mph.  So, I'm not really exaggerating the Big Orange Booty's slow galloping pace, haha.

Evil eye for the gaited mare.

Archie and Ox (as well as all the other horses) had vet visits earlier this week.  While the vet was super quick through everyone, I still had time to sit and graze Archie before we did his more thorough physical exam.

The current consensus is that he's in a holding place.  The degeneration of his right front pastern joint doesn't appear to be getting any worse, but it's certainly not magically getting better.  It just is.  The vet still wants pads on him, but acknowledged that it really isn't feasible at this time of the year:  if the moisture doesn't suck them off, he gets thrush.  We're not sound on grass and straight lines are significantly friendlier.

Before my idealism vanished or my hypocrisy appeared, I would have never even considered riding regularly a horse who couldn't handle being ridden on the fucking grass.  I mean, it's grass.  It's a goddamn natural cushion.

But here we are.

One horrible vet visit nine months ago and my ethos had a paradigm shift.  What was previously, self-righteously, unacceptable now became my new norm - let's medicate the horse to keep him comfortable enough to keep him rideable.  This vet visit recap got a lot deeper than I intended.  Sorry.


He's perfectly sound on the trails and in the ring, so I feel less like a horrible person for riding him there.  And that's all the old man does anymore.  We go on a couple trail rides a week and then dabble briefly in the ring.  I did get clearance to start reincorporating some trot poles, so hopefully we can build a little more topline.

As far as the Big Orange Booty went, he had some blood drawn for some random (to us) (in the deep south) tests.  The vet noted previously that he had some demarcation on his hooves, indicating a fever.  Trail buddy contacted his previous owner who wasn't aware of a fever, but another contact up there said that a bout of something went through the horses.  Not lyme, but something else that is similar?  Must get more details.  Anyways, she wanted blood drawn to make sure whatever is was isn't actually hiding out in his system, waiting to pop up.  Fortunately, he's currently sound and happy and just a big ol' lug.

I first saw this ..artist? store? product?.. on Instagram.  Because social media has replaced conversations and subsequently become the new "word of mouth."  Which is to say, it hit my feed.

Trail buddy and Big G's mom have both gone out of town.  This has left me with the semi-care of four ponies, including my regular 1.5.  (By shear size, I contest that Ox should be equivalent to a horse and a half.)

They say that absences makes the heart grow fonder.  I prefer La Rouchefauld's version better:  absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, like the wind blows out the candle but blows up the bonfire.  I mean, roughly.  French and all.

But I guess abscesses do, too!

 I was taken aback by the intense pleasure I felt when I hopped on Ox last night for the first time in a month.  His abscess blew at the coronet band and he had his shoes replaced.  He's not 100%, so the work is light, but he's a million times better than he was.  But my surprise was that I thought I liked this horse.  And now I realize that I adore this horse and that bond of trust that I wanted so badly has already started developing.

Hey.

Trying to capture his post-alfalfa cubed muzzle.

Ox will whinny to me in the pasture.  Having treats consistently helps, but it still tweaks my heart.  There are no issues haltering him, leading him, or, with a month off, asking him to mosey on under saddle.  While communication with Archie will always be infinitely better than any other horse, I feel almost like Ox and I are getting there.  We're at least speaking the same language now.