While I'd never label myself an optimist, I don't think I've ever been as questioning about what's next as I am lately.  I keep just waiting for something else to go horribly wrong with Archie.  While he has a brilliant, ugly scar, I feel like Archie's injury from December left a bigger mark on my brain.  To call it PTSD belittles that which is endured by those really suffering trauma, but it's the closest thing I can think of.  I'm surprised when he's whole, when he has both his shoes, when he doesn't tell me to arbitrarily go fuck myself.  I just keep waiting.

This sight is enough to make me hyperventilate.

I haven't been riding him in the ring since he received his not-yet-reoccurring-airway-obstruction non-diagnosis.  Because there's a lot of sand and if hanging out in a stall sleeping for ten hours is too much on his respiratory system, I don't want to make it worse.  But it's been raining lately and I have to prepare him for riding in the ring now that it's dark at five-thirty.  I figured it'd be okay.

And he didn't cough at all.  Instead, he was NQR.  It felt like he was intermittently short on his right front, which is his curved hoof and the one he most recently ripped off - and has since been reattached, like a while ago.  But, since I'm saying that it's the right front, I'm leaving lee-way open for it to be his kicked left hind, which really means that I can't tell horses and it's the left front.  What little I do know is that off on soft equals soft, so I don't think it's the new farrier.

I can't get a flattering shot.

I worry about my eighteen year old ringbone-infected retired racehorse having other little issues in his feet, though.  So we're going ahead and pulling rads when the vet comes out tomorrow.  I don't need luck.  I have math and science and a super fucking resilient Thoroughbred.  We make our own luck.

I got a text from my BM last week about a Saturday trail ride.  I love group trail rides.  ...When I take my Xanax, pony is agreeable, riders are polite, and they don't last four hours.

I woke up in time on Saturday and hitched a ride with C.  There were five of us:  BM on her dead-broke paint, a new retired A-circuit H/J rider trialing BM's brand-new Palomino baby, C, me, and a boarder I hadn't met before on her Perch.

Before the start, walking around.

Long story short:  Archie was a gigantic asshole, the babies were better behaved, and I don't think people learned the same rules for trail-riding that I did.  Maybe that's a result of having learned to trail ride by a fox hunter?  Oh, and I forgot my Xanax and almost bit C's head off.  Roar.

Not picture:  C immediately to our left.

So, we started out in the back.  Archie's ridden in the back tons of times.  He's normally okay with a buddy.  Kinda.  C's mare was supposed to be his buddy, but instead he started that crap about trying to spin backwards.  I can sit your spins, asshole.  So, I moved him up to second.  He walked by the paint and the palomino baby just fine and started after the Percheron mare.  For a very long time, we were great on a loose rein.  And then the psycho switch flipped and dude started that sideways jig.  I had to ask the rider on the Percheron to hold hard about a dozen times so the rest of us could catch up, which I don't think helped his brain.

For the rest of the ride, mostly, it was a variance of the jig, crow hopping, and a perfectly well-behaved pony.  At one point, I asked him to move up between the paint and the palomino.  He had ample room and had no problem passing them before.  But something offended his senses this time and he started that crow-hopping shit.  I was seriously afraid that he had engaged his weak hind end and given some half-hearted kicks at the paint, but they said he didn't.

So, yay.  I got to be the asshole growling at my horse for half the ride while I yelled at another rider to slow the fuck down.

I love group trail rides.

Promise.

I'm fortunate in that I don't remember a lot of the time when Archie was anhydrotic.  (Score one for head injuries!)  I go back to this a lot, but every other ailment the Kid has had is minor in comparison.

So I've forgotten how emotionally draining going through something like this is.

And how can you be physically strong when you're emotionally empty?  I said I took a nap Wednesday and naps aren't uncommon for me.  I love to sleep.  However, I'm super freaking particular about the conditions in which I fall asleep.  Wednesday?  Threw all that shit out the window and slept like the dead in conditions I would have never tolerated otherwise.  (Blankets, temperature, clothing, dogs, light and sound all have to be just right.)

While watching Archie eat Wednesday, I made plans for dinner with the hubs.  It's fortunate that we settled everything in advance because my iPhone shut off at 29% battery life.  Ate, got home at about nine, in bed by about 10:30.  Up at 5:30 and headed towards the barn at 6.

It was still dark when I got there, so I pulled my little car up to Archie's stall.  Grabbed his food from the feed room to the chorus of barking dogs, added hot water and started writing checks for the stall usage and banamine from the snafu while it absorbed and cooled.

I checked the stall floor for piles and found two new ones.  I was a bit more disappointed when I checked his water buckets, as they didn't appear to have been touched.

Orange Gatorade mixed with Lemon-Lime Gatorade and watered down appears to be the winner.

He dove into his food at about the time that BM came to feed everyone else.  I stood in his stall and watched him eat.  Then the other horses started getting turned out.  And Archie stopped eating.  I texted the vet because he never finished his breakfast and the whole lack-of-drinking concerned me.  The vet advised turning him out, in hopes that he would be more likely to drink from his regular water trough.


So.. I did.  I walked him to the water trough and he did take a little sip.  And then started munching grass, saying hello to his buddies, munching more grass, rolling and trotting off to say hello to the ladies.

Meanwhile, Mom has a complete brainfart at work and gets to wear her bright blue Pumas with her dress slacks all day.

Back to the barn after work!

I made a few stops on my way and feel like this is a good place to offer some clarification.  I didn't take anything personally, of course, but I don't want anyone to ever think that I don't do as much preventative care as I possibly can.  Bubble wrapping in Georgia just isn't feasible.

Not once during his visit did my vet mention electrolytes, probiotics or salt.

And I think my vet is the shit.

Archie is pasture boarded in the deep south.  Spring has sprung.  Grass is growing.  This is something I didn't know, but when discussing the inner workings of my horse's fecal matter, the vet educated me.  New grass should have sufficient water content to carry it through the system.  I shouldn't need to do anything additional.

But will I?

Of course.  Because I'm fucking human and it makes me feel better.

So on my way to the barn last night, I picked up another half gallon of Gatorade and some coarse sea salt.  He'll get a tablespoon twice a day until his electrolytes come in.  I normally start his electrolytes at the same time in the year when I increase his OneAC and start giving him beer - when the weather regularly hits above 90º.  And Dude has been on probiotics for years.  He gets the nervous poops.

Nom nom nom.

I encountered the BM on my way to the pasture.  She didn't have a lot of happy news, saying that he hadn't appeared to have done much other than graze.  Here, we think again about new grass.

So I went over all the vitals again, checking his gut sounds on both sides, his respiration, CRT and pulse - all WNL.  Pony's whole disposition appeared to have brightened considerably from the day prior.

I added the tablespoon of salt and a splash of Gatorade and soaked his dinner again.  And he ate it all.  :)

Then I turned him back out, watched him take a long drink from the water trough (that's my boy!), and long pee.  So far, no news from the BM, which is good news.  I'll go visit him again tonight.

In humans, it's cancer.

In horses, it's colic.

I got that dreaded text at 7:30 this morning.  I was in the midst of dressing for work.  And after a week or two of beautiful Georgia weather, the night had plummeted to the 40s.  Archie had gone out in a sheet for the night, but the weather had been gross the day before.

I texted my boss that I was going to be a couple hours late.  Headed towards the barn.  Completely ill-prepared for the 46 degree weather.

BM offered to pull Archie from the pasture since there was a giant puddle blocking the route.  And, as I said, so completely ill-prepared.  I could tell just as she walked him up that he wasn't feeling well.  The other two geldings were grazing, walking around, and my boy just stood there, stock still and head not quite up and not quite down.

Walking him to the cross ties, I did the initial checks.  Gum color, capillary refill time, abdominal guarding, skin turgor test.  On all things, he looked okay.  I went to get a temperature on him and found that my thermometer was completely dead.  Derp.  BM loaned me hers and I found that Archie had the slightest temperature at 101.5.  BM showed me his feed bucket and when I held it up to him, he ignored it.

That is not my horse.


I called the vet a minute after they opened and requested that my vet come out.  In the eight years that I've owned Archie, he has never missed a meal.  The office called me back an hour and a half later and said that the vet was in a procedure another hour and a half away.  They said that he would get to me, but not sure when.  They advised giving banamine.  I called work again and told them that I probably wouldn't be coming in.  And then Archie laid down again, on the lead line.  Cue minor breakdown.

I texted BM about the banamine and she met me and gave me some.  I used to have it, but it expired and, since I never used it, I figured I never would.  There's my adage, biting me in the butt:  if you have it, you won't need it.  If you need it, you won't have it.  A quick IV injection (still have skills!) and more walking.

Vet got there at about 12:30.  By this time, Archie was interested in grazing and finally had loud gut sounds, but he still hadn't had a bowel movement.  Vet listened to about eight different places around his gut, took his temperature and checked his gums.  He said Archie didn't appear that dehydrated and seemed like he was in good condition.  I stressed that my horse had never missed a meal.  Also, he's a pooper.

He gloved up and did a rectal exam.  Archie had a lot of manure piled up, but it was dry.  The vet asked if there was hay in the pasture, but it'd been pulled when the grass popped up.  The reason he asked was because he said that the manure looked like winter manure.  He said that he felt that the dry poop wasn't moving through the system like it should.  So, he cleaned out all the poop and then sedated Archie.  A quick nasal tube and two gallons of water later, I had a "fixed" horse.

I asked what caused it, at what point I needed to worry, and when we investigate further.  I mean, worry more than I already was.  The dramatic 40-degree shift in weather probably led him to not drink as much yesterday and last night.  The manure dried out, stopped flowing well, started hurting, and eating became a second priority to alleviating the pain in his abdomen.  He said every horse gets a painful gut at some point.  We only start to look for more causes when it happens again.  I almost asked about doing bloodwork, but I figure this little visit is already going to hurt my checkbook.

You're leaving me?

He hung out in a stall for the rest of the day with just water.  I went home at about 2:00 pm, ate lunch, started this post and took a quick power nap.  Then I was back out at the barn at about 5:00 pm.

In the three hours that I was gone, he pooped and took a nap.

Per the vet, he got a portion of his regular dinner, soaked.  I'd also called the vet because Archie was super duper gassy.  He would scream and his butt would trumpet.  He would look at me and he'd be tooting.  He was also super affectionate, but that's nothing new.  The vet said he'd prefer to have Archie stay up with just water for the night, to make sure things were still moving.

He did not mind at all.

Promise.

I left again for about fifteen minutes after he ate.  I went to the nearest grocery store and bought a gallon of Gatorade.  I don't know if he'll even touch it, but if he does, the electrolytes should help.

There was a post on the Savannah Area Eventers and Friends facebook page a couple weeks ago or so about getting a group together to go cross country schooling at Full Gallop Farm.  Some of them volunteer regularly at the horse trials held there, so they get free schooling passes.  The last volunteering opportunity was last weekend and, since there isn't a post about it, you know I bailed on the offer.

Things worked out in my favor in that TE had available space in her trailer for the Archer and the facility boasts tadpole/starter level fences, so I wouldn't be surrounded by things I was too afraid to attempt.

Sunday dawned rainy and miserable.  The forecast was good for Aiken, though.  My dumb self only brought a t-shirt, so by the time I pulled Archie and TE's horse from the pasture, I was pretty well drenched.  We loaded all the things and coerced Archie into the trailer.  It was better and faster this time, with less argument on his end.  We stopped en route to Aiken to pick up a veritable stranger who was interested in learning more about eventing, but didn't have a horse to school.  And then we ground to a halt for several miles because of two cars parked on the side of the highway.  After the necessary bathroom breaks -- is this a theme?  peeing in random places while on horsie adventures in South Carolina? -- we made it to Aiken at about 1-1:30.

Registered, paid, tacked up and threw on all those random cross country accouterments.  So let's talk about that for a moment.

Walking back from registering.

A long, long time ago (like a month or two!)  I contacted Sarah at Eventing in Color and purchased a medical arm band from her for a whopping $5.  It arrived quickly and she left a sweet note in there.  (Thanks, again!)  I filled out the medical card with everything I knew.  Doctor's phone number? 911.  Blood type?  Red.  Megabicep held it well for the duration of my schooling.

Around the same time, I also started perusing eBay and facebook groups for a vest.  I was pretty particular.  The fad seems to be for Tipperary vests, which seems really... not so smart to me.  The generic Tipperary isn't certified.  Meaning, you have a nasty fall and there is no telling how much protection that thing is going to offer.  So, I knew I wanted something with as much certification as I could reasonably get (Airvest, anyone?), but I also wanted something pretty and sized enough to not smother the girls.  I was fortunate enough to find a demo model of a brand I'd never heard of (which isn't saying much) on eBay for a buy-it-now price of $85.  It met all my quirks and was a pretty black with reflective piping.

And I knew Archie needed boots that could get wet.  I had Roma hinds and I thought about getting a set of Roma fronts to go with, but when I saw a whole set on SmartPak of open-fronts for a whole $35 and reasonable reviews, I went that route.  They absolutely serve my purpose, fit well, and didn't feel like they locked in heat.

So, Archie is all dressed up.  I'm all dressed up.  I've popped half a Xanax so I don't have another anxiety attack.  I'm feeling pretty damn good as we follow TE's horse onto the cross country field.

Brain processing.

Brain going, "Oh shit."

We'd planned on walking out for about fifteen minutes before asking them to really warm up.  The rest of the group, about eight other riders and two trainers, were already warmed up and taking fences.  Because Archie had shit for brains initially, we opted to go nearer to that large group in hopes that he would settle.

Watching.

It took a little while, but he was calm enough to start working.  I'd forgotten what hills were like.  I'd forgotten about rolling green trees.  Tires a pony pretty quickly!

After trotting and cantering, I took Archie a little bit aways from the group.  I found that he did better if I was the one to force him to separate, something that I realized back when it was just us with the Skinny Guy at the old craptastic barn.  I asked him to pop over a coop and he gladly refused.  So then I opted to take him over a random warm up cross rail a few times, a smaller coop, and then the original larger coop.

More watching.

And then it was game on.

I jumped as much as I felt comfortable with and exposed him to as many things as I could.  We had one other refusal when he just didn't have enough oompf to get over a jump at the top of a bank.  I stayed at the tadpole/starter level, though some of the beginner novice looked very inviting.  We did logs and banks and drops and ditches.  We walked and trotted through water.  We danced and pranced and got pissy with our front end.  There was a lot of walking and watching, but I figured that he had just spent three hours in a trailer and his mind was completely blown.  He'd never been asked to go over some of these jumps, but he did it with very little hesitation.  TE also said that I rode better on Xanax, but I dropped about a hundred dollars for the experience - not including the vest, boots, and armband - so I was going to make damn sure that I sucked as much experience out of it as I could, with consideration for my recently-turned-17 horse.

Right before I dismounted.  That little fence was the last thing I jumped.

Blooper.. to get an idea of size.  That was probably the biggest thing we jumped.

I had a blast and want to go again!

You can see the outline of the open front ankle boots. Sorry for the poop.

The trip back home was not so fun.  In the dark, on some random two lane highway outside of some tiny town with the sketchiest of gas stations (I would have been better peeing in the woods again) and no cell phone coverage, we were of the first on the scene of an accident.  Some guy rear ended another car, causing that car to careen into the woods and wrap around a tree.  Because of the horses, calmly munching hay, we were able to leave as soon as they cleared a path.

From the hood of the truck, you see the car that rear ended the other car.  The little lights off to the right are the other car.

TE and I still didn't get back to the barn until about eleven.  Then it was unwrapping, feeding, bracing, cleaning, unpacking, and turning out.  Listening as Archie led the mad dash to the water trough.

My head hit the pillow a few minutes after midnight.

On Sunday, OR and I planned to get to the barn at roughly the same time.  Fortunately for my lazy ass, she beat me by about an hour and had a nice little course all set up before I got there.  It's been really great having someone with a comparable skill set.

The downer in this whole situation is that she's moving her horse at the end of the month.  Archie and I will drown our sorrows.

But back to the jumping.  Things that I am uncomfortable with:

• cantering
• jumping
• height
• cantering jumps
• cantering jumps with "height"

The initial set up was a trot pole three strides to a cross rail with a rollback to an 18" vertical and then back up over another 18" vertical.  After Archie was suitably warmed up, I took him over the little line.  And then straight to the vertical, even though there were already angry pythons rolling in my gut.  I knew that if I didn't hit the jumps immediately, they would become bigger and bigger.  He landed the vertical cantering and I brought him back to a trot for the second vertical.

We took turns going through the course, increasing it as we went.  After cantering it, the trot pole was raised to a cross rail and the original cross rail was raised to an 18" vertical.  And after successfully doing that, the last vertical was raised to 2'.

I thought about trotting it.  Honest.  Because even though we'd already jumped that height, even though Archie has jumped crazy stuff a hundred times before, I battle fear with every stride.  So, here's me.  Pushing.

After OR took her horse through the course, we took them back into the woods to walk them out.  I love that the sun is staying out a little bit longer because it means I'll be able to do this stuff more frequently.  The goal is to get him out on the dirt road and galloping by himself.

OR's cameo appearance.

And after everything was done, Archie got liniment and beet pulp for being a good pony.

I went out to the barn late last night to check on the Kid.  My hopes were that I wouldn't encounter anyone because I still feel really awkward about the trail ride.  I'm not sure exactly why and think maybe it's something I should chalk up to my anxiety rather than that I did something wrong.

So, yeah.  People were at the barn.

I first saw the other TB rider, who was blanketing her pony.  She said that Arch was being an ass and chasing all the other horses away from the new hay bale.  I told her that I hope the novelty wears off and he can be his normal self.  I'm not sure how quickly that'll happen - dude hasn't seen hay since we switched barns in August.

She said that she had some pain in her neck from her fall, but that was about it.  Her horse was fine and bore no ill marks of our adventure.  I asked her about heading out on our own and she's game, but she's also going to continue going on the group trail rides.  Seriously, her pony was a seasoned endurance horse compared to my Kid.

I pulled Archie out of his pasture and he seemed happy to see me.  The weather had dropped significantly and he was acting up a little bit.  I checked him over from head to toe and only found a few little spots.  His butt was super tight and he got a little massage there.  His neck wasn't tight, but was warm compared to the rest of his body.  I think that's more from grazing and moving his head.  He had a little bit of warmth on the back of his ankles, with a little cut on that hind left fetlock.  It was more like a little scratch, which could have happened in the field.  Overall?  Seemed perfectly fine and had no issue dancing in the crossties or screaming like a banshee when I walked away.  I plan to ride him tonight and give him a little workout to see how he goes.

Part of the group from Saturday actually trailer in for lessons on a different horse, so we talked briefly about the replacement of T3.  She said that they were going to be trying out four different trainers.  She was very friendly about it - saying that my input was important, too.  I appreciated that, but I will probably just let them decide and maybe watch a lesson or two.  I'm holding on to hope that T3 will make a magical reappearance.

But not really.  I had my "last" lesson with T3 last night.  In talking to her, though, she explained that the job is currently only contracted for a three month trial before she gets an offer to make it permanent.  And her husband is still living here.  She said that she would be coming back on weekends that they (I'm assuming it's a college, because she's taught at colleges before) weren't showing and could potentially do lessons on those weekends.  So all hope isn't lost.  Just.. indefinite.

Here are my reviews of the last lessons:  fourth, third, second and first.

The lesson with the kids ran about half an hour late and T3 was clearly eager to get started.  Archie got a little warm up, but we made up for it with a shit ton of trot work.  My first exercise, after I got him going properly, was to post as small as possible.  I don't know why this has been such an issue for me.  I post like, two feet out of the saddle.

Oh, did I mention that I wore my fresh-from-the-box boots?  For the first ten minutes or so, my ankles were in a fiery, painful hell.  And then the boots remembered that they were synthetic and started to relax around my legs.  Magical.  But, needless to say, lowering my heels was difficult initially.  I refused to make it an excuse and just pushed them down.

The small-posting brought to light that the giant posting was fucking up my hand position, so while doing these tiny little posts (which, fuck, I need to get used to), I had to work on the line from my elbow to the bit.  My hands would raise and break the line, which she said was a habit from pumping my arms as I take my giant posts.  The chant for the flat work was "elbows, wrists, reins, bit", interspersed with "TOO HIGH!" and "push your knees into your heels!".  She also explained that when I was pumping my arms, I wasn't giving him anywhere to go.  Goes back to that chokehold I used to put him in while trying to get and maintain contact.  So, softer hands, straighter line, to the bit with less movement out of the saddle.

From there, we moved into canter hell.

There were several standards and jumps in the ring and she made a serpentine pattern out of them.  I trotted through in once, and then went through it at a canter.  It was down the straight on the left lead, turn in and go straight, downward transition, simple change to the right lead, bend right on the rail, turn back in, go straight/simple change back to the left lead, bend left and get back on the rail.  Here.  I drew you a pretty picture.

The black stars are standards.  Blue is left lead/bend.  Orange is transition.  Purple is right lead/bend. And that blue star?  Where T3 decided to stand when I kept cutting that corner.

The transitions were butt-ugly.  It was horrible.  We were slow to get them and we'd be in the turn by the time he picked it up.  A lot of this was just my fault.  We had to have several reset moments, because I would be bending him the wrong direction and he would pick up the wrong lead.  After butchering it several times in this direction, we switched and went the opposite direction, which was 800 times easier.

This guy.

Or... a photo/video dump.  You're welcome.

Eight or so of us.

TBs in the back.

Across the road to the neighbor's property.

Wayyyyy in the back.

Vineyard?!

Hard to tell, but that's a lake almost in the center.

Super-picturesque.

Awkward smile.

Bees!

And more bees!

The Ogeechee River.

Where'd everybody go?

There they are!

$7 SSGs.  I dropped one and some hunters returned it.

Proof!

Happy pony.

Mud to his knee.

Apple reward.

Flexi-pony.

•  It was five and a half miles over two hours.
• The other TB hadn't been on a group ride before, either.  (At least, I don't think he had?)
• We encountered mud and standing water, which, if I had known prior, I wouldn't have taken him through.  
• I dismounted twice.  Once immediately after crossing the swamp water/mud.  His pasture buddy, the other TB, absolutely refused to cross the water and traversed around the perimeter.  When he went out of sight, Archie lost his shit.  I hopped off for safety because the ground was still precarious.  Ain't ashamed.
• The second dismount was on the way back.  We were almost back at the mud section and we'd had issues with being way behind.  The horse two up spooked and bolted.  The horse behind him cantered off in pursuit.  Archie couldn't decide whether to pursue or to stay with his buddy.  He was literally bouncing left and right while slowly moving forward.  Safety first!  And it allowed me to hand-walk him around the mud.  He still fell once (glad I got off!), which is where the mud went all the way to his knee.
• There were points in the ride where we did not see the rest of the group.  Just me and the other rider on the other TB.  She and I both got a little ...disgruntled.. about that.  I explained to one of them that Archie had never been on a group ride before.  I didn't necessarily want anyone to baby us, but dammit.. I was taught to go at the speed of the slowest/lowest rider.  And that would have been me and my little OTTB.  We didn't know the route.

I think there is a trail ride every two weeks or so.  I'll continue to go, because it's good experience.  Other than the couple of times that Archie couldn't process ponies leaving and ponies being left, I had fun.  There were tiny bits of trot.