Shake, Sammy, Shake

I looked at the bay gelding. He was mine. But now what to call him? I regarded him and he regarded me.



"Is your name Simon?" He pricked up his ears.



"No, not Simon . . . hmmm . . . Sammy?" He walked right up to me. Sammy it was.



So now I had a nearly 4 year old Saddlebred named Sammy. I had never trained a horse before, but I had read lots of books. In the book Pounding Hooves, the main character starts out to befriend the unbroke mare Storm by teaching her to shake hands. It was a bonding exercise that taught the mare to trust her. I looked at Sammy and thought, why not?



I bent over, grabbed his left front leg just below the knee and pulled forward and up. "Shake, Sammy, shake!" Up came the hoof and I gave him a treat. Again and again, I asked him. In less than 30 minutes, he was lifting his foot off the ground and offering it to me on nothing more than the command "Shake!". So far so good.

I would walk around the pasture and he would follow me. Coming over to say "hi" while I worked, and then wandering away when he found my work to be boring. Already establishing himself as what I would later call "the ADD poster child", he was always looking for things to get into and snooping. He was willing to hang out with me as long as I was walking around and active, but as soon as I was standing still, pulling burrs out of a horse's tail or bagging shavings, he was outta there.



Every now and again, I would walk away from my work and go over to where he was grazing. Always, he would look up when he saw me coming, ears pricked up with that super cute expression on his face, never taking a step toward me. He would watch me coming with a "hi there, nice to see you" look, but no mistake, I was the one doing all the work of walking over.



I would lean over and say, "Shake, Sammy, shake!" and up would pop the hoof for a treat. Then one day, not so very far into our relationship, I turned around to walk away and felt a nudge in the butt. Lightning fast, I whipped around and there he was with that cute look on his face. "I'm so innocent, I'm so cute." And then the hoof came up again and kinda pawed out. "Where's my treat, Lady?" Uh oh, I had created a monster. He pawed again, a little ruder this time. Hmm . . . he had learned the trick a little too well.



"No, Sammy," I scolded. "Cut it out." I learned how quickly Sammy could become obnoxious for a treat.



From then on, I asked him to do his trick only for a good word of praise and a pat. He learned to do it only when I asked. Telling him, "Good boy!" began to bring out a goofy side in him. I was learning that praise went a long way with Sammy, but that praise would make him so pleased with himself, that he would do something naughty, like grab the zipper on my jacket in his mouth or pick up a brush and chew on it. I could almost hear him saying, "I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy."



Time to work with him on a halter and lead and teach him some manners. . .