Rodney sporting the old beanie on his lone trip last year.
This was supposed to be a new equipment post, since our shipping beanie broke during a recent trailer training session. Material fatigue, not an incident. As it turns out, the one we bought is too small. It pinches Rodney’s ears. Never had this problem. Didn’t know it was possible. Despite being a giraffe, Rodney’s head is a fairly standard size. Well, if not this one, then another.
Rodney wears a head bumper for shipping. Milton does not. Topological intersection of the beanie, the halter, and Milton’s head causes Milton to pull off his halter when he is wearing the beanie. Odd.
Previous Shipping Beanie Experience
My first three horses wore a head bumper for trailering. Mathilda did not.
Mathilda’s owner remembers that she would pull her halter off, a la Milton. My recollection is that it caused her to panic. Once Mathilda put her hoof down, it was not happening. Either way, she shipped without a beanie but with halter fuzzies over the poll, alongside the nose & over the snoot.
Caesar could not wear the halter fuzzies. They reminded him of the shadow roll he often wore over fences. You can’t load a horse who thinks he’s in a jump-off.
I haven’t revisited the idea of halter fuzzies for this pair. It just seems like one more thing to keep clean, particularly since neither one wears a fancy shipping halter. Rodney doesn’t like leather [Here We Stand]; Milton breaks his [The Halter of Shame].
Addition. I feel I must clarify. Milton has only broken his halter once. However, Previous Horse broke his show halter all the d*mn time – including three times at one show – so we are twitchy on the subject of expensive show halters.
Lady waits for me to be done with pictures and get on with her walk. Mud doesn’t slow her down in the slightest.
Rain. More rain. Build-an-ark levels of rain. There was a time when I was a hardy eventer who laughed at the rain and rode through the mud. That time may come again. Now is not that time.
No riding. No hand walks. No body work on wet horses. Fortunately, both horses have rainy day activities on their schedule.
Rodney has been practicing loading on the trailer. At the moment, progress is a two-person task. Either we need one person at the head and one person at the hip to help him arrange his over-sized carcass in a slant load or Rodney needs his village with him for reassurance. Or both.
My goal for Milton this winter is to understand him. Be jumpy at a show. Fine. Be bitey at dinner. Fine. Be chill, when? He never seems to hang out and be a horse, at least not when people are around. So, I sit with him, or stand next to him with a hand on his side. No activities. No grooming. No treats. We’ll see.
~~~
Border color is Benjamin Moore Delray Gray.
If the cartoons look familiar, Timmons drew the comics for the TV show Caroline in the City. Favorite page is where she compares horse breeds to cars, for example: Thoroughbred/Ferrari – Fast, sleek, a nice ride when not in the shop. And so on.
Artistic fail in my part. I envisioned a letter in a freehand style that echoed the cartoons. Alas, the images in my head are shackled to what my hand can draw. So, instead, another computer-aided design using a color from the cover. The art gap feels wide today.
Inkscape. Grid & boxes. The edges of the boxes ended up being more fiddly than expected. First, I had to specify that I did in fact want borders, otherwise there were tiny gaps. Then they exported with a slight color gradient around each box, which had to be bucket filled. No idea why. I’m sure I asked for it somehow. The trouble with a program that gives you the ability to do anything you want is that you have to have some idea what you want.
They are no longer kittens. They are not yet cats. They are … cattens.
Photos arranged in chronological order, unrelated to the text.
Feeding Order
When I serve their wet food, Little One (possible name for female Stubby) eats first. Always. I have to separate her dish &/or face her away from the others, or she growls the entire time. That can’t be good for digestion.
I haven’t noticed a reliable feeding order among the others. At each meal, one of the three is confused and can’t find a dish, but it’s not always the same one.
Affection
They are affectionate but do not demand affection. All four are perfectly happy to purr if picked up or petted, otherwise, they get on with their mysterious, boisterous kitten activities, or collapse in their higgledy-piggledy group naps.
Somewhere between often and occasionally, Princess or Precious (other possible name for female Stubby) will find me and say, ‘I would like cuddles now please.’ Male Stubby shows up for a turn from time to time. The only time Long Tail demanded my attention, it turned out the food bowl was empty.
There is no shelf below the window. She is holding on with her claws.
Bathroom
They are obsessed with keeping me company in the smallest room. The best way to summon all four – short of dinner time – is to have a seat. They gather in and out of the bathtub and play ruffle games with the shower curtain.
This is comfy?
Jumping
Speaking of jumping, they have gotten much better since last report. They now leap with grace and hang time. Their reach has increased. One has been spotted on … drumroll … the kitchen counter.
The dry food for the big cats is on the top of the fridge. Since this is out of the way of the dogs, I leave food there 24/7. We have a deal. They can use one corner of the counter on their way to up to the fridge. We call this area the landing zone and keep it clear. That is the only part of the counter they are allowed on.
The big cats observe the rule and do not roam the counter. I have no idea how I managed to convince them of this. I don’t think the cattens will be quite as obliging.
26. Academy Driving with Whiskey Throttle – 1st of 1
Thank you to Courtney Huguley for the willing Whiskey.
Another driving Thursday! While mainly a blatant attempt to squeeze two posts from one horse show, the driving was an important factor in my weakening in the face of temptation attending the show. I might have held the line against Sam. Might have. Sam & a cart? Resistance is futile.
If I were a selfless soul, I would’ve said, ‘No, No, I’ve driven enough. Let someone else have a chance.’ Ha. Gimme those reins. We have discovered the limits to my generosity.
One horse. Hitch in the ring. Trot around the ring a few times. Same old, same old. Still fun.
The adventure this time was the mud from the recent rain and a very slight bit of terrain. We cruised around the top of the ring at the vertiginous angle of 1 degree. After the class, we exited up a equally formidable slope. I felt as if I was on marathon! Not really, but that’s as close as I get.
1. Advance Horsemanship WTC Adult – 1st of 2
2. Advanced Equitation WTC Adult (no Pattern) – 1st of 2
7. Pleasure Horse or Pony WTC Adult – 1st of 2
All riding classes with Sultan’s Miracle Man.
Thank you to Courtney Huguley for the ever-stellar Sam.
When you’ve spent the week burned out from a horse show, what is the most logical move? Another horse show! I meant to be sensible, really I did. Then I found out Sam was available. Was there ever a question?
The fun part of Winter Tournament is that I show in the Advanced class, against suit riders. Not their fanciest horses, who are on winter break, but young, green talent is good competition for a student on a lesson horse. Unfortunately, two barns stayed home, so I ended up competing against another Adult Academy rider. Nice woman, nice horse, but I compete against them all year long.
Winter Tournament is also for practicing new things: new horse-rider matches, new moves, new patterns. I asked Coach Courtney what we should work on. Kick it up a gear? Practice suit-quality maneuvers? She said she wanted me to work on staying up with my head/eyes/chest/hands to the point that she didn’t have to remind me every time I passed the ingate. Basics? Consistency?! That’s so not sexy.
Being the ever dutiful student, I buckled down and tried to stay up. (English is weird.) Sam makes a good equitation mount because he gets on with his job and leaves me time and space to worry about my form. I assume I was somewhat successful since I didn’t hear a lot of yelling from the sidelines. OTOH, that may have been from a more relaxed attitude on the part of a coach at Winter Tournament than from my dynamic riding.
I was also moderately successful in keeping the pre-ride meltdown under control, including firmly smacking my mental demons when they dared to raise their heads. I’m not usually an advocate of violence, but seriously, Sam? At Winter Tournament? There is no excuse for nerves. OTOH, I was gasping and moaning on the drive up. My innards were still annoyed with me from Nationals.
While I was successful with the new, I managed to completely flail at the old. In the first class, the announcer called for walk. So, I walked. Right there. Six years of saddle seat and I totally forget about finishing my pass. Fortunately, it took me less than half a step to realize what I had done and boot Sam back up to a trot.
During the trot in the second direction, I looked down and realized I was posting on the outside leg. That’s wrong. Switch. No, wait. I was right the first time. Switch back. Again, it all took place in 1/2 a step. In the third class, I decided to carry my stick hunter/jumper style, i.e. in my right hand the entire time, rather starting in the left and switching it. I have no explanation for any of this. Perhaps my brain had not recovered completely either.
Meanwhile, Sam was having an equally big day. He didn’t like – insert where applicable – the cold, the mud, the grill being started, the phase of the moon. He kept telling me that he was a sensitive show horse and could not be expected to work under these conditions. We’ve had this talk before [Show Report], but he was selling it harder than usual this time. I was even mildly apprehensive before my third class. Sam being that goofy was like watching your grandmother bust the latest dance moves. No one’s going to get hurt, but it is disturbing to witness. Fortunately, the morning’s work had warmed up the motor oil and we were able to fancy prance, just a little bit.
Virtual Brush Box 