I'm not telling you dates, because to cement my plans on this blog also seems to curse them into non-existence, but there are things on the horizon for the giant #SpottedDick.

Because of those things, I'm looking at registrations that I've never previously had to consider, because I've never been this fucking legit.

• USDF Annual Membership ($90)
• USEF Annual Membership ($80)
• USDF Horse ID ($35-115)

This post wouldn't be complete without the big guy looking legit AF. Many thanks to Britt for photographing during her visit! (yeah, i'll blog about it)

Alternative title:  Whiskey is not Henry.

I had a lesson at 10:30 on Saturday at my trainer's farm.  I came in to my barn hot at 9:30 that morning (breakfast with the hubs and then a stop for carrots and apples), only to see the BO sitting in his truck outside the boys' pasture.  He waved, I waved, and I proceeded to hitch up my trailer.

Seconds later, he's pulling his truck up next to mine and letting me know that he's gotten a late start and hasn't fed yet.  Why the fuck are you telling me this and not actually feeding?  I essentially tell him to get a move on, as one of my ponies will be in this trailer in less than half an hour.  I am less than pleasant in the face of laziness.

Feeding has still taken too long, so I groom Whiskey in the pasture as he finishes eating.  Then I drag him to the barn aisle, toss his saddle on and start the death march to the trailer.

If you've seen my insta, you know where this is going.

What a beautiful day to miss my lesson because this fucker won't get on the trailer. 😍 #iloveyoubutihateyou #whiskeytheappaloosa #helpisontheway

A post shared by bekaburke (@bekaburke) on Dec 23, 2017 at 7:43am PST

I admitted defeat at about 10:15 and texted my trainer.  She said she'd be by shortly to give me a hand.  While I waited, I took Whiskey to the round pen to work on the magical impossible right lead.  Whiskey was not impressed.

When trainer arrived, we went over all the steps I'd taken to encourage him.  Then she popped out a chain and got him on the trailer in about three seconds.  We went back and forth, on and off and on and off, until he was eventually self-loading.  I was amazed.

Having a conversation.

We took a break from all this to run him around a little more in the round pen, this time with a bridle and a saddle, before we did more with the trailer.  By the end of it, we decided to let him hang out a bit on the trailer while she taught a lesson to my two barn buddies and I put up his tack. 



Now this next part, I take all the blame for.  It was my ineptitude.

We'd left Whiskey untied in the trailer, just because he'd been on and off so many times and I don't think it dawn on either of us to tie him.  She took off the lead with the chain and I didn't put the regular lead back on.  When I went to get him off, he had stuck his head below the chest bar.  I unhooked the chest bar and attached the lead, tossing it over his neck.  Then I went around to remove the butt bar.

In the time it took me to get the butt bar off, my little spotted dickhead went through the escape door.

I've heard of horses doing this unscathed.  And I've heard of horses getting injured.

Unfortunately, Whiskey was injured.  He has a very minor scratch on his right hip, but took a literal chunk out of his left hip.  If the cut were a straight line, suturing or stapling might have been an option.  But the cut was a triangle, which generally means (dependent on size, location and blood flow) that the flap of skin is going to die.  So sutures wouldn't have worked.  Of course, I checked all this over with my vet and he said it wasn't worth worrying about.

Bad left.

Not as bad right.

Bad left, day two, with the triangle already dying.

I cleaned with a chlorhexadine scrub, then some proviodine, and finally a topical salve.  I asked the vet if I should forgo the topical so it could breathe, but he said it would be fine.  I gave the guy a little bute and told the BM to leave him naked, so the wound wasn't covered.