In memory of my grandpa

Taking a break from writing about my horse for a moment to share some memories of my grandpa, who died 9/2/12.

I am going to attempt to put all of my thoughts, love, and memories into words to share with everyone how I feel.  Here goes nothing.

Being the oldest grandchild has its advantages and disadvantages.  One of the obvious advantages is being able to know Grandpa the longest of the grandchildren.  He was only just shy of 49 when I was born, so I remember when he was still working for the State and I remember when he retired.  He still had his government cars when I was learning how to drive, so he took me out a couple of times.  I will say it was a hair raising experience that had everything to do with the vehicle and nothing to do with Grandpa or my driving.  The experience went something like this:

"Now this car has a few quirks, so you have to be prepared.  The brakes are a bit touchy, and the power steering doesn't exactly work.  Oh, and the accelerator is a bit hard."

Off we went.  And oh my.  Here I am, not quite 16, pretty short and not real sure of myself behind the wheel . . . and very lacking in the arm strength department. 

Grandpa: "We're just going to run a few errands.  I have to drop something off at McDonnell and then we will run down to the grocery store."

Me: "Ok, we can do this."

So I start the car and try to back up.  No response from the gas pedal.  A BIT hard?  I had to stand on the thing to get a reaction.  And then the steering, ha!  It was sooo heavy and darn near impossible to turn from a standstill.  But we got going and went out and over to the High School.  At the first stop sign, I touched the brake and the car stood on its head.  Oh yeah, the "a bit touchy" brakes.  I forgot.  So we went along our way, herky jerky as I wrestled the steering wheel and fought with the accelerator.  And through it all, Grandpa sat there calm, all but taking a nap.  Never a criticism of my driving, never a negative word.  Just, "You're doing fine, keep it up.  You can do it."  Boy did my arms hurt the next day, though.

But as I said, there are disadvantages to being the oldest too.  Like when all of your cousins are much much younger than you, and you don't qualify to hang out with the adults.  So you are stuck on the outside looking in, while all the little kids play.  One time, I decided "to heck with it".  I wanted to play too.  There were a few kids in the 2-5 year old age range that were scooting down the stairs on their butts.  Just scooting down the backstairs into the kitchen.  Looked like a fun game.  I must have been maybe 10 or 12 or so.  So, here I come scooting down the stairs into the kitchen and there is Grandpa.  He takes one look at me and says, "Get off those stairs, you're going to wear out the new carpet.  You're way too big to play that way."  Dang it!  So much for fitting in.

Come to think of it, being one of the older kids, I remember when Grandpa was a bit more stern and still in parent mode, rather than Grandpa mode.  Uncle Joe, after all is only 10 and a half years older than I am and was still living at home when we used to go and spend our week or two each summer in Chippewa.  I remember hearing Grandpa use his "mad voice", mostly directed at Chris and John, but occasionally I would get it.  Like at bath time.  Now I have always hated having water on my face, running down my face.  I don't know if anyone else experienced baths at Grandma and Grandpa's, but Grandma would rinse your hair by dumping a pot of water over your head.  This TERRIFIED me.  So I would scream and scream and cry.  And then Grandpa would come in and in his very stern, "mad voice", he would say, "Now that's enough now.  You don't need to make such a fuss.  Goodness gracious, you are fine.  That's enough!"  So intimidating.

But despite hearing the stern voice, I never doubted that Grandpa loved me.  That he understood me.  That no matter what, I could always come to him.  Talk to him about anything.  We really saw eye to eye on a lot of subjects. And he taught me so much. I always trusted his advice and would ask him, even to the end, for help with anything and everything.  He somehow knew the answer no matter if it was how to fix something on your car or your house, how to get a good deal at the grocery store, how to find the best cut of beef, or what to do in your marriage.  He tried to teach me that it was ok to leave all your groceries on the belt and walk away if they wouldn't honor your coupon, but that was a lesson I never could bring myself to carry through.

I loved the time spent at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  How I could always talk about anything, even the difficult things that happened growing up.  Things I couldn't talk about anywhere else.  I could talk about them with Grandma and Grandpa.  I have told them both many times that they are more than grandparents to me, they are friends.  I feel safer and more at home with them than I ever felt at home.  Grandma obviously is still here, and I am so grateful that I still have her, my closer-than-a-grandma, my friend, to talk with and share with.  But the funny thing is, they are a unit.  It's like I can't think of one without thinking of the other.  Even though Grandma and I many times sat and chatted alone or watched a movie that Grandpa slept through, he was always there.  Loving, supporting, chiming in when appropriate.  They go together in my mind.  And the house is part of that package.

So many memories there.  So much love and connection.  So many good conversations with Grandpa, so many hugs.  So many "hey there, kid"'s.  Hearing him tell me, "Are you behaving?"  And then answering my return query with "It gets easier every day."  Asking him what color his shirt was and then honestly thinking he didn't really know.  Listening to those silly jokes.  Hearing his stories, and laughing with him.

After his heart surgery, the anoxia left him having to relearn things that used to be easy for him.  It also seemed to subtly change aspects of his personality.  Being that I could always be honest with Grandpa and talk to him about anything, I mentioned it one day.  This was probably a year after the heart surgery, when he was starting to get closer to himself again.  I told him how even his expression looked different to me, like the eyes/personality, something was different.  And Grandpa said, "I know, sometimes I look in the mirror and think 'who is that looking back at me?'  It's a weird feeling to look in a mirror and know you are looking at yourself but it's like a stranger is looking back at you."

I love that there was nothing that was taboo to talk about like that.  I love that I could just come out and say that something was wrong, and he didn't get offended or change the subject, he honestly faced the topic with me.  The same thing happened a few times after the Multiple Myeloma diagnosis too.  We candidly talked about death and how we were both afraid and uncertain.  That level of understanding is so hard to find.  Where someone knows instantly the intent behind your question or comment and has no problem entering into a discussion about it.

Grandpa meant so much to me, to all of us.  More than we could ever express in words.  We can be happy for him that he finally has all those answers we didn't know during those last conversations.  But we can be sad that we have to wait to see him again and have those great discussions.

And to Grandpa, I will try to behave.  I will fly it close to the road and keep all 4 wheels on the underside of the car.  And I won't hit the pole.  Love you now and always.  I hope now you truly are terrific!

New Barn #2!!

So it was time to move the Sammy-monster again. I went around looking and found the perfect place. My lesson teacher would come there, the grounds were clean and beautiful, and, best of all, the roundbales were clean and dust/mold free. Not only that, but they didn't use roundbale feeders, so the hay would easily get spread out and the horses wouldn't be burying their faces in the holes. So Sammy could stay in the herd all year round and no worries about heaves.

The new barn was a lot smaller, only on 20 acres. Very few boarders=very little barn drama=perfect!! The facility was older, but very clean, with super safe fencing, and nice sandy soil. No mud anywhere to be found. The outdoor arena was the perfect size, and the indoor was well maintained. So very nice.

The New Barn Owner and her SO came to load Sammy, and I was bit leery. After all, our last attempt to load him didn't go so well. I put shipping boots on him and got him set to meet his new caretakers. They greeted him enthusiastically, and we headed into the chilly December morning over to the waiting horse trailer. They led him onto the trailer quite easily, but he quickly shot back out. In, out, in again. Then they led him on and backed him off quickly before it was his idea to leave. And then we couldn't.get.him.on.the.trailer.again. Not for two hours.

 

Thankfully, the New Barn Owner was ridiculously patient and wanted to make it a good hauling experience for him.  So she took her time, and finally he was standing calmly in the slant, not flipping out or anything.  It took two and a half hours in the freezing cold, but it was so worth it.

 

We got him to the new place and unloaded him.  He took everything in and seemed much calmer than I would have expected.  This is the beautiful driveway that pretty much sold me on the place right away. 

The new indoor arena

The roundpen, where he was quarantined for 2 weeks



 

The pasture side of the barn as seen from the roundpen

The gelding pasture where Sammy is now

Sammy's new stall

Sammy's stall on the inside, complete with welcoming hay :)

The outdoor

 

The driveway from the barn looking down toward the road



 

Heavey horse? That's heavy, man

Now I should probably go back to an episode Sammy had that summer in the paddock.  I came out one day to hear him coughing and groaning, really breathing hard and just looking miserable.  I called the vet out and of course in the lapse of time, he had recovered.  It was determined that he probably had encountered some dusty hay and had a tiny heave-like episode.  Of course, by the time Dr. Frederickson got there, he was completely normal.  Of course he was!

So we got back from England, and he had been on the questionable roundbales for a couple of weeks.  He was now so bad that putting a saddle on and girthing it up caused him to drop his head to the floor and groan and cough.  It was heartbreaking. 

So I called my good buddy, the vet, out again.  She listened to his lungs and yes ma'am, he has heaves.  He had fluid in all four quadrants of his lungs.  The prescription, get him off the roundbales.  Great!  Going into winter and no roundbales.  What to do?

We put him on a course of Dex and Aeropulmin, a brochodilator syrup to knock out the inflammation.  He went back into a paddock.  And this time, rather than take a chance on bad hay again, we bought Chaffhaye, a haylage product in a bag.  We had to drive a few hours to pick the stuff up, but we bought a whole truckload.  We had to rent a trailer to bring it back on.  He went through a 50lb bag every 3 days.

It was one of the coldest winters we had seen in years and years.  I was used to Sammy being able to graze at will and stuff himself with hay as needed.  Having him on a strict diet, which I was totally controlling, he quickly began to lose weight, as seen in that second picture above.  During this time, the hubby was laid off and unable to find a job.  He went up to the barn every 3 days to weigh out and mix Chaffhaye and supplements in a bag to totally idiot-proof Sammy's feedings.  Even so, there were times he was missed.  By the end of May, he looked pretty rough.  We put him back out in the pasture, only have to pull him out again in July, since there was no rain and the grass wasn't growing.  They had to put out roundbales again.

Going into his second winter in a paddock with no shelter, and up to his fetlocks in mud in the spring, I knew we had to make a change.  Sammy was depressed alone in the paddock.  I wanted to find a plac where he could be a part of the herd year-round.

Time to move again.  After nine years at this barn, it wasn't easy to tell Barn Owner I was moving.  She took it hard, but I was relieved to find the new place and know it was totally willing to care for special needs horses.

And oh boy, is Sammy special needs, let me tell you!

The Lameness Chronicles--Part 2

So here we are, all the way up to Fall 2007.  Wow, getting caught up to the present now. 

Sammy was all better from the abscess.  Going just great.  Then, about October of 2007, I noticed it again.  At first, it was only because my posting felt off, just a slight "swing".  But the swing progressed to a faint head nod.  I talked to the farrier, I talked to the vet.  The concensus was that it was likely a pulled muscle.  I gave him a few months of just being in the pasture, no work really.  I would just pull him out and longe him to see if the head nod was still there.  Yup, still there.  So many people would tell me I was seeing things, it was so slight.  As he would work longer, though, it would become more evident.

Finally, in February, it became obvious that it wasn't going away.  We made an appointment to haul Sammy to Anoka Equine again, but this time, the Barn Owner didn't have a trailer we could borrow anymore.  We had to rent a two horse straight load, which was nice, new and roomy.  We spent all morning and all afternoon trying to load Sammy into that trailer, and it was a complete no-go.  He could stand with 2 feet in the trailer and still reach me at the front, so he didn't need to get in the trailer all the way.  He knew as soon as he got in, we were going to slam the door on him and go.  Finally, I was convinced it wasn't going to happen.  So I called Anoka Equine and cancelled the appointment.

The next course of action would be to find a vet who had a portable XRay and could bring the testing equipment out to Sammy, since I couldn't get Sammy to the equipment.  Enter then Dr. Voigt (now Dr. Fredrickson) with Sunrise Equine.  She was so patient with Sammy, putting up with all his weird quirks.  She nerve blocked him, and he went sound off the heel.  Great, it's in the hoof again.  She set up the XRays, fearing navicular, founder, or arthritis.  The XRays were clear.  Stumped, the only thing she could think it might be was a strained impar ligament, possibly from slipping in the October mud on the steep hill in his pasture.  The prescription was stall rest and lots of handwalking on the straight, no turning to the left to avoid torquing that left front. 

Of course, Sammy, being the ADD poster child, was not going to survive stall rest, so we had to build a paddock behind the barn for him.  It was about 24'x24', not quite enough room for him to get running around.  It only took a few days for him to settle.  We gave him a giant bucket for water and another for hay.  It looked like a potentially great weightloss plan as well, let's face it, Sammy was fat from all that pasture grass.


Here is fat Sammy.

So the paddock rest and weightloss program began in about March 2008.  Here he is in his paddock behind the horse trailers for a windblock.

And then began the loss of his topline.

And here we are handwalking, once he had been in the paddock a few months and the vet had ok'd the use of ground poles to try and improve the fading topline.

After about 5 months, he trotted sound on the longe.  I started him back under saddle in mid August.  He was obviously very weak at first.  Watching him shuffle along on the longe at first, his bones all looked like they were rattling together.  He was so out of condition.  My new lesson teacher was amazing though, and gave us lots of good, low key things to work on.

By October, he was sound and his strength was built up enough to turn him back out in the pasture.  So we turned him out and went to England for two weeks.  We came back to a terrible coughing and groaning horse. 

Enter the heaves!





The Lameness Chronicles, part 1

So here we are, things have improved. Horse is doing much better, less rebellion. Life is good. And then suddenly one day, Sammy is noticeably off at the trot. Uh-oh. No big. Wait it out, maybe he pulled something. Nope, still off and it's a month or so later. By now, I have been married a couple of years and Dear Hubby has a truck. I talk to New Barn Owner, who, after 6 years of being at her place has now had her name changed to just Barn Owner, happens to have a small, stock-style 3 horse bumper pull trailer. I ask her who she recommends for mysterious lameness, and she tells me Anoka Equine. So we borrow her trailer, stuff Sammy into it, not without some trepidation, and head off across town.

About an hour later, we pull in. Sammy, having whinnied at every single stop along the way, causing head turning everywhere we went, has worked himself into a lather. I also notice that he is a bit tall for the trailer, his ears are smooshed as he stands with his head at normal height. Oops.

We get him off the trailer without incident and the vet techs take over. They longe him (and he actually does it, yay for me and my training!!), agree with me that there is definite off-ness, so we head into the actual clinic barn. He stands very well for heel nerve blocks and the big garage door going down. Very impressed with him. Unfortunately, he trots sound with a heel block, so we know it's a hoof issue. Dang it! Arthritis? Navicular? Founder? Worse? Is there worse? My mind races as they set up the X-ray. I go into the tech room with the vet as he looks at the radiographs. Not any of the above. Horse has a toe that's a smidge too long. Take his toe back an inch or so, slap some front shoes on him for a few months to support the heel and he should be fine. Oh and find a new farrier, this one is leaving him too long.

Sammy, while sedated, positions himself directly over the grate in the middle of the floor and lets loose a really good pee. I have a good chuckle over that and head in to the office to pay the bill. Best news yet, it's just under $200. This is great! No long term issues and a cheap vet bill, hooray!

We get him home and all is well. He pulls off the first set of shoes in a day, the second set in a couple of days. We add bell boots and things go better. I find a new farrier who is great. Sammy is finally back to normal.

The winter passes, spring comes around again. Suddenly, we are out to the barn and Sammy is uber lame, like holding one front leg in the air lame. Not Good!! We throw him in a stall overnight, which he hates and I call the vet out the next day. Vet comes out with a less than stellar bedside manner, punches Sammy in the belly for "kicking" at him and then after several goes with the hoof testers, declares it an abscess and charges me somewhere in the neighborhood of $100. I am somewhat skeptical on the abscess thing, but he tells me if I leave Sammy in for the day and overnight and it gets worse, it's an abscess. Sammy goes back in the stall.

Next morning, I go out to the barn and Sammy is in a sweat in the barn. It's pretty chilly out yet, so I throw a cooler on him and walk him around. He is no longer 3-legged lame, so it seems to me he has improved=not abscess. I figure he is smart enough to not hurt himself, so I throw him back out in the pasture. He stresses less out there anyway. A few weeks later, there is an obvious abscess blowout at the top of his hoof.

Fast forward a few months and the blowout has grown down about halfway. A crack started at the bottom and worked it's way up to the blowout. So now he has what looks like a cloven hoof. The new farrier is concerned about Sammy breaking off chunks of toe, so he throws front shoes on him again. This time, they are attached well, and they stay put for the duration. Did I mention I am VERY happy with this farrier?



We got him past this ugliness and all seemed great. Until October, 2007. See part 2 for exciting continuing saga :)

You live and learn and then get . . . lessons!

Surfing the internet one day, I came across an ad for someone offering lessons. I was especially intrigued because she offered saddleseat lessons. Since I took my very first lessons as a 7 year old on 16 hand Saddlebreds, I was feeling the itch to pick up where I had left off.

It was clear when I started that it had been a long while since my organized riding days. I had basically spent the last 10 years dinking around in my backyard or riding complete greenies. I had only taken about one year of real lessons, and it was about 16 years previous. Everything else I knew, I had "perfected" on my own. I felt very out of control and all over the place on that flat saddle.

Cute Lesson Teacher didn't have a "real" saddleseat horse, but she did have a very high energy little Arab mare named Tina that she used. Tina had to be ridden in a martingale due to the fact that she zoomed around at Mach 10 with her nose in the air. She was very speedy and very fussy. At my first lesson, CLT asked me to canter Tina. I was like, "Ummm . . . I have serious canter fear issues, like that's the whole reason I'm here."

She gave me a look that said, "clearly you are hedging, canter now please."

I nudged Ever-Ready Tina into a canter, and we went flying down the long side. I instantly tensed up freaked out and all but dropped the reins. My butt was flying waaaay out of the saddle, and I was terrified. CLT was yelling, "Sit back!! Relax!!" as Tina zoomed down to the corner, almost smashed into the wall, veered around the corner, and came to a shaky halt. The halt wasn't the only shaky thing.

I was whimpering and feeling generally defeated. CLT just had me go back to trot work. Then she expained we would work on centered riding, and really developing a nice secure seat.

As my lessons prgressed, CLT transitioned me more into dressage as that was where her focus was at the time. As my confidence grew, she had me riding the new horses she got in on consignment to sell. She would tell me, "You'll really like this one, he's got a nice trot and a great canter." I stopped asking her if every horse had a tendency to buck. I started to relax more. I felt very proud when she told me I have great hands.

I had just gotten Tina to bring her nose down and in and travel in a reasonably nice frame. CLT gave me the greatest compliment when she told me Tina went better, prettier, and slower for me than anyone. She asked me to ride Coach, her old fart lesson horse and try to slow down his canter. She used him for the little kid lessons, and he liked to lean into your hands and really bull along at a high speed canter.

I followed her to three different barns, and when she told me she was moving out of state, I was devastated. I had learned so much about balance and to be more confident and more solid in my seat. Her dressage technique was definitely more German-style push/pull, lots of left-right and worrying about headset. I definitely learned bad habits. But I needed the confidence-building and the good solid horsey friendship she provided. I needed to ride horses other than Sammy, horses I could trust. Horses I didn't have a history with. I needed someone to confide in, someone who didn't criticize me for my fear or make me feel incompetent. Our lessons were laidback. A lot of times, she would just saddle up and ride alongside me. Once or twice, she came out and met my Sammy and gave me a lesson on him and rode him a bit herself. She was what I needed at the time and I learned a ton.

I took all of that back to my Sammy. One day, I put my western saddle on him, with a halter on under his bridle. I looped a leadrope around the saddle horn so he couldn't drop his head as easily, and I asked him to canter. I didn't attempt to steer him or push at all. I just sat and let him canter as he pleased. We went down the middle of the arena and stopped. And I threw my arms around his neck and cried a little bit. Cried with a big, idiot grin on my face. It had been 3 long years, but we had made it. I was riding my horse W/T/C again. Things were looking up!

Not that everything was instantly better from that day. I got bucked off another time or two, but things were definitely improving. I was riding in a bitless bridle now and back in a better fitting English saddle, first a saddleseat saddle and then a Wintec dressage saddle (at $500, the most expensive saddle I had ever owned). I had lost my trainer, but I was light years ahead of where I had been. So we just putzed along, doing the things I had been taught by the CLT. We never really progressed that far, but we were doing much better than we had been, less eruptions, less battles of will.

We are now up to about 2006 and the first lameness. Oh boy, the lameness chronicles!

Bucking Bronco!

Well, you might have guessed from the end of my last post that things wouldn't necessarily continue on so smoothly. Sammy stressed out a lot from the move and dropped a lot of weight that winter.

I rode him many times in the new indoor, trudging from the barn across the frozen parking area and through the deep drifts to get to it. He was very well behaved at first, and things were going swimmingly.

Then, one day, the sun came out and things began to warm up. You other horsepeople out there will know what I'm talking about. Yes, the ever-so-frightening snow sliding off the indoor arena roof. It comes out of nowhere and has the power to unhinge even the most bombproof horse. Well, a 6 year old greenbroke Saddlebred is hardly what you would consider bombproof.

Part of the issue was that I was doing what you're never supposed to do when riding. I wasn't paying attention. I was riding along, chit-chatting with one of the other boarders, totally draped reins, loose legs, just hanging out in the saddle as we walked around the arena. Out of nowhere, WHOOSH!!

Both horses spooked, and I totally fell backwards across Sammy's butt. And then the unthinkable happened, my foot got stuck in the stirrup. Sammy completely lost it and bolted. I was dangling off his side, suspended by one hand on the reins and one leg in the stirrup. The stirrup leather came away from the saddle (thank heavens I didn't have locking stirrup bars) and then I was being dragged by one arm. Somehow, I couldn't figure out how to tell my hand to let go of the rein. When I finally let go and lay in the sand, the other boarder rushed over to see if I was ok. Sammy stood, trembling, at the far end of the arena, tail over his back and at full attention.

I stood up and brushed off. Nothing was broken. I had sand in my hair, ears, and even the pockets of my jeans! I walked slowly up to Sammy, tried to calm him down, and then did what you're supposed to do when you come off the horse. . . I got back on. We walked one or two laps of the arena and called it quits.

I went home and woke up the next morning unable to lift my head off the pillow. The roommate drove me to urgent care, after I literally rolled myself out of bed. After some X-rays, it was determined that I had sustained whiplash, but nothing was permanently damaged. Thank goodness for that. I took time off of riding and healed up, figuring that that would be the last time I would come off. Next time, I would pay better attention. As it turned out, Sammy had other ideas.

Apparently, it had never occurred to him that the rider could be dislodged. Once he learned this little tidbit, he began to put it to use. At the time, I chalked it up to him being naughty or just being green, but I know now, that it was likely his way of objecting to a poor fitting saddle and a very unbalanced rider. I grew to have such a fear of riding that summer, that I imagined Sammy sitting in that beautiful grass pasture all day long just thinking up evil things to do to me.



One day, I was riding around the outdoor arena, and asked Sammy to canter. He hopped into his nice, rocking chair canter for all of about 2 strides. Then he slammed on the brakes, dropped his head to his knees and turned into a bucking bronco. I didn't have a chance. I slammed into the ground while Sammy continued bucking over the top of me. His hoof connected with my back and then he ran to the gate. I stood up, but my left leg was numb. That totally freaked me out, but I dutifully went and got the horse, mounted up and rode one small lap at a walk. My leg began tingling and I was relieved to know the numbness wasn't permanent, but it still scared me.

After that day, he bucked me off two more times. I became so frightened of cantering him that I stopped cantering at all. In fact, I was even afraid to canter other people's horses. I would always ask before I rode if the horse bucked at all, and I was petrified of riding any low headed horses, since they already seemed like they were ready to assume the bucking position.




I started doing groundwork more, riding less. Lots of lunging. But Sammy had clearly lost respect for me. He would buck and pull on the lunge line, trying to rip it out of my hands. I couldn't get a bit in his mouth anymore, at least not without a two hour long battle. So I gave up and rode in a rope halter. He would just quit on the lunge, and then, when I would flick the whip or "sting" him with the end, he would turn in to the middle and charge at me. We would have these battles of the will that would end with both of us drenched in sweat and neither one clear as to who had won. I was so intimidated that I didn't know what to do.



Loud Mouth Barn Lady watched me working him one day and offered to "help". She said I was too soft on him and that I was letting him get away with stuff. She asked if she could lunge him for me, but she told me "I might have to hit your horse". I was fine with that. As far as I was concerned, she could do whatever she liked with the awful beast. She proceeded to really "get after him", using her loud voice and her very aggressive body language to push Sammy. And when he responded with aggressiveness of his own, she cracked him a few good ones with the lunge whip.

She had brought a little yippy dog with her, and the little dog ran barking at Sammy's heels as he trotted anxiously around the circle. Sammy kicked out at the little dog and missed, so the little dog continued to yip and chase. Then Sammy lashed out again, and this time, he connected with the dog's head. The little dog yelped and flew out to the middle of the arena, where he lay in convulsions and making awful snorting sounds. Sammy became even more anxious and sped around the circle. I started crying, watching that poor little dog.

Loud Mouth Barn Lady looked at me crying and said, "Don't worry about the dog. It's not Sammy's fault. I can't stand a dog that chases horses, and if he can't learn, then it's better if he doesn't make it."

New Barn Owner was watching the whole thing, as she'd been helping me try to lunge Sammy earlier, so she went out to the little dog and picked him up. She carried him out of the arena and took him up to the house. After a few minutes, she came back down with the dog and told us he was ok. He had bitten his tongue, but otherwise he seemed totally fine. Sammy, on the other hand, was a complete wreck. And the only lesson he had learned was to be petrified of little dogs. To this day, he is very uneasy around little dogs, and I can never trust him with them either. I always worry he will kick again and this time, the dog won't be so lucky.

After that day, Sammy and I continued on, but I tried to be more understanding of him. I still would only walk/trot, but I tried reading and studying different methods. I tried some Parelli with him, which he hated. I tried just being more consistent. Nothing was really working, and I had lost a lot of confidence for riding, so I decided it was time to take some lessons.