I feel like even writing this is going to tax my cool, collected work façade.

Friday, I barebacked the Kid for about fifteen minutes before the light really started fading.  I wanted to make sure that we ended on a spook-free good note.  We worked on flexing and counter-flexing and moving off my leg.  It was a good, short ride.

Saturday, I pulled a pole from the cross rail to make a little trot pole exercise, with opposite ends raised.  I surprisingly got the distance pretty okay.  We warmed up at the walk, trotted two laps regularly and then three laps with our fifteen-stride trot and downward transition for a few steps.  Then, without giving him an opportunity to think about it, I asked him to canter.  At this point, I came to realize that BO had walked into the pasture.  As we went by her, her dog also came running in.  As soon as I saw her, I started pushing Archie to keep going, so that by the time the dog darted in, his entire mind was just on "forward".  Profuse praise was given.

And then we started in the other direction.  The trot work was fine.  And then I asked for our single lap of sitting canter.  I knew he was cross-cantering, which has always been a giant fucking issue.  He was on the right lead in the front (we were tracking right) and the left lead in the back.  We got to the tighter turn (it's not that tight), and he switched in the front.  That would have been fine, I was prepared to ask him to fix it, but I guess he was feeling particularly assholish because as soon as he switched, he pogo'd up on the front end a few times.  Like... baby rears.  Crow hops.  As soon as we got that nonsense stopped, I asked him to pick the canter back up and we continued for another lap.

Something like this.

Sunday, I specifically rode before we went to the gym because it was going to be a leg day and I thought I might need my legs on the Kid.

Tracking left, everything was relatively okay.  I took the trot pole thing down and just left one pole out.  About two laps in to the trot, Shithead decided to spook, so I immediately pushed him into the canter.  I thought maybe that he was back sore from me sitting during the canter, so I stayed in two-point and pushed the distance.  I brought him back down to a trot and finished our laps, with praise.

...And then we changed direction.  He was evading the bit, hollowing, acting like a giant shit.  He spooked, hard, one time.  And then it was like every single time we passed that area of the pasture, he spooked.  Hollowed, ran his ass down.  One point, he nearly tripped over the trot pole because he was too busy fighting and spooking.  I asked him to canter out of a spook and that resulted in bucking and more crow hopping.

And I have to admit:  I didn't handle it well.  At some point after the giant spook, I was frustrated to tears.  I wanted a crop to beat the snot out of him, but I was glad I didn't have a crop.. because I would have beaten the snot out of him.  So, my face is leaking and I'm frustrated and he's being a giant shit and all I can do is push him forward, which he is fighting.  I'm growling at him when he starts to duck his butt and I'm riding with a very, very deep seat (more for protection than anything else).  Finally, after pushing and growling and finally praising, singing his "Good boy...!", we got one solid lap of reasonable, asshole-free trot.  I praised and called it a day.  Walked back to the barn, dismounted, and proceeded to burst into tears again.

Proof of our front-end fly ups.

I left a message with the chiro on Friday.  Here's hoping that we get a call back soon and can get him adjusted ASAP.  I feel like pain is the primary concern here, not just my horse being a giant shit.

I doubt I'm the only person who is like this, but having such a horrible ride sets the tone for the rest of the day.

Annnnd... a five-pound bag of organic carrots that I had lovingly chopped and snapped for the Kid, immediately before our Sunday ride from hell.