Feel Good Sunday: Studies Show that Women Who are Horse Guardians Live Longer than Those Who Aren’t — Straight from the Horse’s Heart

Source: Breaking News247.net “The next pressing question should be; ‘Do men who live with female horse guardians live longer?’ or maybe more to the point, ‘Do men who live with female horse guardians have more money?’, just asking. Have a Feel Good Sunday.” ~ R.T. Recent studies done in Western NC, Northern Virginia and northern […]

via Feel Good Sunday: Studies Show that Women Who are Horse Guardians Live Longer than Those Who Aren’t — Straight from the Horse’s Heart

I can just hear my husband on this one-no, they don’t have more money. They might not live longer-but if they question the horsess, their lives WILL be shorter without a doubt! The other thing is-and I love him for it-he says that he would never go back to living a life without horses.

Thank you, God. I got a good one!

When Is It Time To Wind Down?

First, I watched Brentina’s retirement ceremony. Then Secretariat’s last race and Valegro’s final Olympia freestyle. Who doesn’t need to watch Aldrich’s one-tempi victory lap one more time? This part is embarrassing. I searched for a ridiculously sappy scene from that old movie, The Electric Horseman, where Redford sets the stallion free. It’s a kind of retirement, too, […]

via Equine Retirement Planning. — Relaxed & Forward: AnnaBlakeBlog

Sometimes this is hard to see-for all kinds of reasons, but mostly emotional ones. I did have one old gelding years ago that needed to be ridden very lightly every other day or he would refuse to eat-at all. We all need to be needed.

Along the same lines, here is another that is really good. Lots of things to think about for our partners who deserve our attention in their later years. Don’t let them down-and certainly don’t let them get into that slaughter pipeline.

Peace of Mind Planning

 

 

For the record–

this is in response to the fact that I seem to be getting an inordinate number of single male requests to ‘friend’ me on Facebook. Listen up, guys-I’m MARRIED-to a great man. And from what I can tell from your pages-your jokes, posts, photos, and what have you-well, let’s just say I’m less than impressed. Got what I wanted and not looking to change.

Y’all have a nice day-but do it somewhere else.

Getting Involved

This happened in my home state-not too far from where I live. So not only did I have the usual “oh, no, not another horse theft” reaction, but it was also “not in MY backyard you don’t!” response. Now I’m not being naive or silly. I know there are probably other thefts in the state that I’m simply not aware of. In fact, I’d bet money on it. I also know that horses are known to disappear because of various kinds of civil disputes-somebody didn’t pay their board bill, went too long without checking on a horse they left on a “friend’s” farm and, guess what, both friend and horse are long gone, and what seems like endless variations on the theme. There are also the lost ones-they dump a rider on a trail ride, jump a fence, bolt for some reason, etc. But the thefts make me just angry.

The rest of the volunteers and I got busy and went to work. So did the mother and daughter who owned the horses-and they poured themselves into it. Phone calls, social media posts, fliers being posted, thousands of emails going out, TV coverage-and soon someone called that they thought they had the palomino, Buddy. He was some miles away which gave us an idea of which direction to look in for the other horse as well.

It turned out that he did have Buddy-so that was one recovered, but one still missing. We kept up the barrage of internet and email notices. Before another 48 hours had passed, we had messages from one of the thieves-they wanted to give the other horse back because they couldn’t sell him! (Broke our hearts, let me tell you!) They dumped him in a woman’s pasture-she called the owners-and they went to pick him up.

What happens to the thieves? That’s up to law enforcement and the District Attorney’s office. Our team of volunteers was interested only in the well-being and recovery of the two horses-and we accomplished what we were there for.

Now-were we paid? Not in the usual sense, no. There is a very modest fee of $25 to file the report. For that they got 3 people working 12 hour days for 4 days. You do the math. I’d say they got more than their money’s worth. Video link-Henry and Buddy

Yep-it’s a wonderful world we live in.

 

Becky

My grandpa drove a black pickup-step side with the old style pins and chains on the tail gate to lock it closed, hold it flat, or allow it to drop all the way down. As far as I was concerned, it was a Rolls Royce Silver Phantom.

From the time I walked well, I was trying to get out the screen door to go next door to be with my ‘Paw Paw’. Of course, my mother had her hands full with my younger sister who was a fretful, demanding, high maintenance baby. We lived on a dirt road on the opposite side of a field planted with corn. My mom’s parents lived in an old house (the front rooms had beams that were hand hewn and held together with wooden pegs). It had been added onto over the years-nothing fancy, but comfortable.

My Paw Paw, daddy, and some other man built our house. The land was a gift from my grandparents. The oaks must have seen Gen. Sherman’s armies go through. They towered over us and produced huge piles of leaves and amazing amounts of acorns. The shade was so dense we rarely got wet during a shower and the temperature would drop at least 5-8 degrees from the road to under the trees.

I do not know how old I was, but one day a pickup pulled up at my Paw Paw’s with a stake bed on the back and a white mule looking over the top. (Perfectly acceptable practice in the country back then-and still is in some places.) That was Becky-she had been purchased to plow the garden but also because it was said she would ride. I must have been asking about doing that-I know I pestered anyone and everyone about riding the mechanical horse at the convenience store.

From somewhere came a small saddle covered in red and green vinyl. I know he made stirrups for it out of a block of wood and some belting. I don’t believe the thing ever fit either Becky or us girls because I don’t remember using it. I do remember riding Becky in from the field after he finished plowing-he’d reach down after unhooking the traces and throw me up behind the hames to sit on the back band. I thought I was riding a unicorn or a winged steed.

Somewhere there’s a photo of me and my sister on Becky being led by Paw Paw. I knew she was a big girl. Didn’t realize how big until I saw the photo. Paw Paw was about 6’2″ and Becky’s withers  are somewhere around his ears. That would have put that mule in the neighborhood of 16-3 to 17 hands. Big girl.

Paw Paw promised me that Becky would be mine one day. Then he died when I was eight and she was sold. I stayed mad for the next four years.

 

Character Judgment

I have a theory-one of these days, I fully expect some major scientific funding back me up on it. My theory is-if you are really good with animals, any kind of animals, then the reactions of the animals in your life to the people you bring around them will tell you all you need to know about the people.

The Sports Model Jackass taught me a great deal about this-of course, he was something of a special kind of guy, too. He loved to play pranks. I’m serious. He didn’t like my sister-but then she didn’t care for him much either. He ran away with her at least twice. He bit her arm so hard she passed out (not nipped-BIT). We were riding side by side one day and she changed the words of The Old Grey Mare to The Old Brown Pinto-he nailed her foot for that (don’t tell me they don’t understand our speech!).

He also had opinions about farriers-loved to drive them crazy. Until a funny little old guy showed up who would work on both fronts then the hinds instead of going around the horse. Whatever worked.

Boyfriends were an issue with him-he never gave even a lukewarm response to one. None got bit, stepped on, or kicked, but he made it very clear-‘if you’re going with THAT-you’ve got a problem picking out boyfriends, toots.’  Sour ears, ugly looks, and The Butt. If it was really awful, he’d walk off.

Subsequent equines did the same-Zhivago, the Tarpan stallion, was particularly expressive in his opinions. ‘Dad’ adored me-and would actually walk between me and someone he did not care for. I sometimes wondered what would happen if somebody did try something with him around. He was a feisty little s*** on his best days.

Madam, my crabby long-haired tortoiseshell cat, was the one who gave the seal of approval to the guy I eventually married. She spent most of an evening upside down purring in his arm while we played a board game-something she never did. Then the horses ratified it. (I met him in ’89-seven years after I lost the Jackass.)

These are but a few of the examples. If you wish to post yours in the comments, please feel free to do so in WordPress. I would enjoy reading them. Animals enrich our lives in many ways-I believe they can make it easier and more worthwhile as well if we will but pay attention to what they try to tell us.

Romance & Horses

This was a sore point between my mom and I. You see-she had this idea that since I was the ‘spitting image of her’ (and I was), that I was going to have the identical interests and goals that she did-i.e. being an author, marrying a pilot, having a big family, being a social success, living in a big house in the city, being a force in her church, etc. She didn’t get it. I kinda was for the family thing, but the rest of it? Pfft! Not if it meant I couldn’t have my horse and I was pretty sure it meant exactly that. So we were at odds from the git-go.

Oh, I tried-I learned to sew, set a correct table, cook, bake, and even learned to walk in heels with a book on my head. I got really good at cross-stitch, crewel, counted cross stitch, and even knitted a bit. But the interest in horses never waned a bit-and if the day was sunny, chances were I was not in the house, but on the horse and gone. My mom had no idea what to do with her eldest daughter.

As I got older and did start dating in college, it became rapidly apparent that horses were going to be the deal breaker. It was very simple on my side-if you wanted me, the horse came, too. There was no negotiating going to be done.

Oh, people told me-you’ll have to sell your horse if you want to get married. One day maybe you can have a horse again after you raise your family. And they’d smile knowingly and nod their heads. Then start shaking their heads when my answer was-no, that was not acceptable. This was a package deal.  If  he wanted me, he could take all of me-and that included my horse.

It would take me until I was 35 to find that person willing to accept my terms-and he did so quite willingly-even learning to ride nearly as well as I do. We have 30 acres in the country, 2 cats, 2 bossy dachshunds and 1 timid mutt. and 7 equines of varying pedigrees. We’ve shared 26 years together. People told me I was being ‘too picky’. I call BS. They settled too soon. I waited for-and got-Mr. Wright.