Well, I finally did it. I think I finally managed to cut the cord and do something I should have done a year ago. Pending a test-ride tomorrow, I think my oh-so-fabulous buckskin mare will be heading north to Ludington and to a new luxury-filled life as a show horse again. She deserves it, its what she had before she came to Michigan, and she needs go to back to that life. That mare is FAR better than I deserve and I'll finally be able to go to the barn without that pang of guilt and the itty bitty voice in my head saying "Why do even you have this mare? You don't do anything with her. She's been to the worlds, you take her to a fun show and are thrilled with a trail class win. WTF." (yes, the voice in my head uses text-abbreviation-slang).
I'll be down to two geldings, my hellion of a 3 year old, and Pat's "vintage" ranch horse, and as every good horse owner knows, two is never enough. Since I'm anticipating a neat little wad of cash in my hand on Sunday, and nothing soothes a mourning soul like buying something new, I've been horse shopping. A little premature, yes, I know, but I'm going to be a mess when that trailer leaves on Sunday and shopping makes for an excellent distraction. I want a shiny new toy with hooves.
Now, I'll admit, I've spent a combined total of approximately 35 hours in the last 2 days screwing around on horse classified sites and Facebook pages dedicated to horses and ponies for sale. When I shop, I shop hard. Food, sleep, showers, everything takes a backseat to the all-important task of finding something to blow my money on. The boyfriend has taken this opportunity to truck-shop and take advantage of the fact that the only real response he can get out of me when asking for anything is a "Mhmm, yep. Whatever you want, babe, as long as it'll pull the horse trailer." I was informed this morning that I apparently gave the permissive "okay" last night to drive to southern Illinois and buy a $12k F-350. It's green. I sincerely dislike green pickups. I really should start paying attention when he talks to me....
Anyway, in my searching, I've realized that I've apparently missed the point when the horse world collectively lost their damned minds. Please, could someone tell me how horse owners can realistically expect to collect $2000 for an unregistered, "husband-safe-prospect" two year old? I know your ad says "Or best offer, MUST SELL!!!!" but you and I both know your horse isn't worth $350, so don't tell me you'd "really like to get $1500" and then get offended when I laugh. Well, dumbass, I'd really like to be 5'10" and model for Victoria's Secret as a side job, but that's not going to happen either!
Hay is skyrocketing, and fuel is right behind it. In case no one selling their horse owns a calendar, IT'S SEPTEMBER 1st! And here in Michigan, it SNOWS in the winter! Your gem of an equine isn't worth a third of what it was worth six months ago, I don't care how many ads you put up.
To those people claiming to be "running out of hay" in hopes that guilt will entice someone to pay 10x what your horse is really worth: Really? You had all year to know hay prices were going to be insane. They were high in June and they're even higher now. Sorry to say, but the hay fairies forgot to drop a few loads on Michigan this year, so deal with it. All your ad tells me is that you're hoping there's someone out there with disposable income that could possibly be dumber than you are. In the spring, yes, you'll find people like this (especially if the horse is a flashy pinto). Going into winter? Forget it. Even stupid people know they have to get bundled up in the cold to go feed a horse when it snows. Granted, not everyone actually DOES it, but they all know they should. Man up, take some responsibility and either drop the price to next to nothing so someone with the money to feed it might buy it, or put the horse down yourself if you're not going to put out the cash for winter hay.
As for the group of you that wants to send out the "poor me" emails to the area rescues and beg them to take in your unwanted horse, please consider something for me for a minute. Rescues don't get their hay for free, they pay for it just like you should be doing. Why in God's name should a rescue take in your 25+ year old horse because you "can't afford it anymore"? You had to have that horse, it's YOUR problem now. If you don't want the responsibility, don't take the damned horse to an auction. Be a responsible owner and euthanize. Yes, I said it. PUT. YOUR. HORSE. DOWN. Get as pissed off as you want at me, and tell me how heartless and insensitive I am, but there is absolutely NO MARKET WHATSOEVER for a 20+ year old horse at an auction, and as much as you want to feel good when you pull out of the parking lot and think that some little girl bought your old horse, they didn't. One person WILL be buying it, and it's going to get on a trailer for a one-way trip to Canada. Now look out your window at those great big eyes of your "best friend" and tell me you'll feel better at night sending that horse to its death via auction rather than an IV injection at home and a peaceful ending.
"But the vet bill is so expensive! I can't afford it." Fine, find a gun. There are plenty of helpful forums online to tell you how to do it quickly and painlessly for the horse. If you can't work up the guts to do it yourself (and I don't blame you there, it's tough), find a hunter-friend that will. You owe it to your four-legged friend to give them peace & dignity in the end, not send them through an auction ring to be packed into a truck.
Moral of the story: The horse market sucks. Badly. It's not going to get any better any time soon. Take some responsibility for your horses and make plans NOW (and I don't mean go plastering websites with ads, no one is going to buy your junk right now!), not in January when your horse is skin and bones. There's nothing worse than having to watch and bet whether the horse down the road will starve or freeze to death first. If you go the euthanasia route, MSU will cremate for $140 (at last check). Also, remember: you can't dig a hole with a backhoe when the ground is frozen.
Common sense statements, I know. But sometimes these things have to be pointed out.
See everyone when I get back from Illinois. God, I hate green trucks....
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Trail Riding 101: The Art Of The Booze Cruise
I've never been much of a recreational trail rider. I respect those that do it, both the weekend-warriors and those who actually have the ambition to camp somewhere with their horse, but it's never really been my "thing" per say. I'm more of the type of rider to have a set plan of goals when I tack up, go into the arena or work area, and I accomplish those goals. I've always been of the mindset when training that once those goals are reached, we end it on a good note and call it a day. One brick at a time to build a castle, right? Some of my workouts have been a simple 20 minutes learning a canter depart on a youngling for the first time, some end up 2 hours or more when teaching a flying change. It all depends on the horse. Regardless, I always try to end on a good note. When I ride, I do productive things.
Lately, since I'm not doing much of anything in the way of productive horse-related activities, I've found myself venturing into this trail-riding thing more and more. I have a few very close friends in Goodrich who trail ride religiously, and quite frankly, they're a riot. They're slowly venturing into the horse-showing world thanks to their children who want to do more and more with the horses, so I help them. In return, they've taught me this whole "relaxation" thing which I wasn't too familiar with. Apparently, it involves significant amounts of booze, which works for me. Thankfully, I own 3 phenomenal horses that have made the adaptation from show-toys to "hooved ATVs" rather smoothly, and I suppose this has helped shape my new outlook on the whole adventure, I'm not really sure I'd feel the same if I had a group of chicken-shit bastards.
Here are a few of the handy things I've learned while trying my hand at this whole trail riding thing:
1) Put the slowest horse in front. This eliminates your need to trot every 10' to catch up to the others. If the slow horse is in front, the others will simply push him along, or the whole ride will be slowed down, leaving much more time to drink. Either way, problem solved.
2) When cars pass, its is completely appropriate to scream offensive names and profanities at the driver if they choose not to slow down for the horses.
3) If you choose to do this, make sure you're riding with a police officer.
4) Wave and yell "THANK YOU!" to those drivers courteous enough to slow and move to the far right of their side of the road for you to pass.
5) Your horse does not care how tall you are when on their back. Overhanging branches are your problem, not theirs.
6) Horses don't come with cup holders for your beer. Make sure you can neck rein.
7) They also don't come with a restroom. Plan ahead. Make mixed drinks stronger so you don't have to consume as much mixer.
8) Don't ride in homeowners' yards, some of them get quite pissed. Stick to the shoulder of the road, if at all possible. If your horse manages to wander onto the grass before you notice, imitate a struggle with said horse, cuss repeatedly ("God damnit, Seabiscuit! I thought you could STEER!") and make it look like the horse's fault. People don't get angry when you obviously can't control your 1,200 lb animal. They just prefer you keep it as far from them as possible. Leg yield back onto the shoulder of the road and apologetically yell "I'm sorry!".
9) Neighborhood kids will want to pet your horse. Don't be a dick, it'll take a minute and a half of your life and probably make their day. However, if your horse views children as appetizers, it's probably best to wait from a distance and let another horse from the group entertain them.
10) Sewage drains eat horses. They smell funny and make wierd growling noises and should be leaped away from at every opportunity. Even from thirty feet away. Everyone knows this, so be prepared.
11) Dogs are not to be messed with, under any circumstances. The little ten-pound dogs that are safely confined behind their fenced yard talk a lot of shit, but can't do much about it. The loose, aggressive dogs are the ones to watch for. Be prepared to run if need be. But if running means you'll spill your drink, all bets are off. Pick the boldest horse and charge the dog if it comes after you and you obviously can't get away safely.
12) Again, make sure you're riding with a police officer if you have to run over someone's dog. It helps considerably.
13) Yes, its true that horses have been considered a mode of transportation long before bicycles were invented, but give them a break. These people are riding around peddling their asses into oblivion with lycra wedgies and are probably sweating a whole lot more than you. They can have the right of way. Teach your horse to deal with it. Take this opportunity to drink more.
14) Having a horse that can back on command is a wonderful asset for trail riding. Occasionally you'll run out of trail and have to back fifty yards to be able to turn around. If your horse cannot back under saddle, put him in the front of the line, so he's the last horse out. He'll figure it out quickly.
15) Following the theory behind #14, the last horse in line is the first horse to get eaten by the forest-monsters. This indicates that the most obnoxious horse should be last in line, preferably behind a boss mare that has no problem letting a kick loose if it gets too close. Manners are manners, folks. No one likes a tailgater.
I hope this has been helpful. Stay tuned for Trail Riding 102: Off-Roading
Lately, since I'm not doing much of anything in the way of productive horse-related activities, I've found myself venturing into this trail-riding thing more and more. I have a few very close friends in Goodrich who trail ride religiously, and quite frankly, they're a riot. They're slowly venturing into the horse-showing world thanks to their children who want to do more and more with the horses, so I help them. In return, they've taught me this whole "relaxation" thing which I wasn't too familiar with. Apparently, it involves significant amounts of booze, which works for me. Thankfully, I own 3 phenomenal horses that have made the adaptation from show-toys to "hooved ATVs" rather smoothly, and I suppose this has helped shape my new outlook on the whole adventure, I'm not really sure I'd feel the same if I had a group of chicken-shit bastards.
Here are a few of the handy things I've learned while trying my hand at this whole trail riding thing:
1) Put the slowest horse in front. This eliminates your need to trot every 10' to catch up to the others. If the slow horse is in front, the others will simply push him along, or the whole ride will be slowed down, leaving much more time to drink. Either way, problem solved.
2) When cars pass, its is completely appropriate to scream offensive names and profanities at the driver if they choose not to slow down for the horses.
3) If you choose to do this, make sure you're riding with a police officer.
4) Wave and yell "THANK YOU!" to those drivers courteous enough to slow and move to the far right of their side of the road for you to pass.
5) Your horse does not care how tall you are when on their back. Overhanging branches are your problem, not theirs.
6) Horses don't come with cup holders for your beer. Make sure you can neck rein.
7) They also don't come with a restroom. Plan ahead. Make mixed drinks stronger so you don't have to consume as much mixer.
8) Don't ride in homeowners' yards, some of them get quite pissed. Stick to the shoulder of the road, if at all possible. If your horse manages to wander onto the grass before you notice, imitate a struggle with said horse, cuss repeatedly ("God damnit, Seabiscuit! I thought you could STEER!") and make it look like the horse's fault. People don't get angry when you obviously can't control your 1,200 lb animal. They just prefer you keep it as far from them as possible. Leg yield back onto the shoulder of the road and apologetically yell "I'm sorry!".
9) Neighborhood kids will want to pet your horse. Don't be a dick, it'll take a minute and a half of your life and probably make their day. However, if your horse views children as appetizers, it's probably best to wait from a distance and let another horse from the group entertain them.
10) Sewage drains eat horses. They smell funny and make wierd growling noises and should be leaped away from at every opportunity. Even from thirty feet away. Everyone knows this, so be prepared.
11) Dogs are not to be messed with, under any circumstances. The little ten-pound dogs that are safely confined behind their fenced yard talk a lot of shit, but can't do much about it. The loose, aggressive dogs are the ones to watch for. Be prepared to run if need be. But if running means you'll spill your drink, all bets are off. Pick the boldest horse and charge the dog if it comes after you and you obviously can't get away safely.
12) Again, make sure you're riding with a police officer if you have to run over someone's dog. It helps considerably.
13) Yes, its true that horses have been considered a mode of transportation long before bicycles were invented, but give them a break. These people are riding around peddling their asses into oblivion with lycra wedgies and are probably sweating a whole lot more than you. They can have the right of way. Teach your horse to deal with it. Take this opportunity to drink more.
14) Having a horse that can back on command is a wonderful asset for trail riding. Occasionally you'll run out of trail and have to back fifty yards to be able to turn around. If your horse cannot back under saddle, put him in the front of the line, so he's the last horse out. He'll figure it out quickly.
15) Following the theory behind #14, the last horse in line is the first horse to get eaten by the forest-monsters. This indicates that the most obnoxious horse should be last in line, preferably behind a boss mare that has no problem letting a kick loose if it gets too close. Manners are manners, folks. No one likes a tailgater.
I hope this has been helpful. Stay tuned for Trail Riding 102: Off-Roading
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
My New Best Friend
Back in April-ish, I wrote a piece about the blue roan quarter horse yearling I had for sale, and the ensuing shit show I accidentally created for myself by putting the ad on Craigslist for the crazies to find. The filly never sold, as a matter of fact she is still out at my mom's place in White Lake, doing god-only-knows what and probably being an adolescent holy terror due to lack of capable handling at this point. I'm good, don't get me wrong, and I can make a heck of a well-mannered youngling...but I'm not good enough to train and work on it without seeing or touching the horse in 45 days. I can only imagine how she is now...
But I digress. Anyway, back in May, I received a few (as in, more than two) phone calls from an obviously crazy man in "riiiight around there South Bind, Eeeendiana" regarding this filly. The first one was essentially him asking me all sorts of asinine questions which, had he actually READ the ad, he would have already known the answers to. Did he read the ad? No. Why? Because he doesn't have a computer. Oh hell...here we go....
Side note: If I ever find the sonofabitch that keeps giving out my name and phone number to people looking for horses with NO other information aside from "She has a horse you might like! Call her!" I'm going to strangle them. They apparently ONLY know idiots without computers.
So after we establish everything that was already mentioned in the ad, (several times, because of COURSE, he's hard of hearing), he tells me that he's sixty-something years old, lives on his pension, and used to drive a truck for a living. Okay? This matters to me, why? Pension = broke or fairly close to it in my book.... you say "Pension" to me, and I automatically end the conversation in my head. How do you plan to care for a youngster on a fixed income? Babies have death-wishes, its a proven fact. If you can keep one alive until it turns 3, you're usually home free, but from 4 months till 3 years, you're best bet is to lock them in a padded stall. One vet bill and this guy's screwed. Plus, he's 60-something years old....he's going to get KILLED trying to deal with this horse.
Apparently this information was given to me to supplement his point that along with his lack of a computer, he is also lacking a fucking MAP and could I give him directions from South Bend?
Ask me if I know where South Bend is.... I know most of Oakland County, and I can get to the Ohio state line from I-75, I-275 AND US-23. That's pretty much the extent of my travel knowledge, and to me, that's pretty impressive. While I'm not exactly familiar with South Bend, I know its not in Ohio or Oakland County, so no. I cannot give him directions. He says he'll call me back in a few days. Yippee.
A few days goes by, then a week, then two....I think maaaaaybe I've lost him. I thank the Powers That Be and continue fielding calls and dodging potential bullets from various jackasses that think they need a youngling. Nowhere during this time do I think this guy was ever serious, and pretty much dismiss him from my brain-space.
And then one day the phone rings...
"Hi there darlin! This is Randy Green from Indiana!"
Oh fucking hell.....
This time, the conversation circles around the fact that this horse is five hundred dollars. And no, that price is not negotiable. Yes, I'll take payments, but I charge $250/month board while the horse is being paid for (its wasn't REALLY that high, but I've found that you can sometimes price things out of people's ideals and they might just go the hell away). Now, to MOST people, this equates to something very similar to highway robbery, and they'd tell me to screw myself and buy a horse elsewhere. But I've got a REAL winner on the line here, and he tells me this:
"Well, darlin, that's quite okay with me. Ya see, I don't mind payin' ya the extra two-fifty because down here, that's what it'd cost me to board her anyway. So I don't mind payin' you instead. Then I'll just come up and see her every week or so and pay ya a little bit on her every month when I get mah check."
"So you're going to drive SEVERAL HOURS to come see a horse every week?"
"Yep! I figure I'll sleep in mah truck at a truck stop or sumethin' 'n just stay the weekend each time. Ya'll got a truck stop 'round there, right?"
Yes, THIS is the guy I want to deal with on a weekly basis when he drives himself up here however many hours just to look at his horse through the fence and maybe pet her. I ask him how long he's planning on taking to pay for her....
"Oh, 'bout nine months or so I should think...."
So I'm going to keep this hellion of a youngster who doesn't believe that fence lines apply to her, AND deal with Crazy McGee for NINE MORE MONTHS? Ohnowayinhell.
I tell him that his plan isn't going to work. And tell him to call me when he's got $500 and is ready to come pick this horse up. If she sells in the meantime, too bad. I save dear Randy Green's number in my phone as "Crazy Indiana Guy". Common sense would indicate that this would be the end of our dealings with one another. But common sense does not apply in this situation.
Two months goes by...we're now well into July, I've moved from the White Lake facility, and my mother has taken the yearling and that's the end of it. The ads for the yearling came down at the middle of June, when I first decided to leave. There is no indication anywhere that this yearling is still for sale.
And then, the last week of July, my phone rings....
"Crazy Indiana Guy".....oh. My. God.
I send it to voicemail. Afterwords, I listen to his message, saying how he lost the phone number of the horse he really wanted, and he's pretty sure this is it, and could I please give him a call 'cuz he's still REEEAL interested.
Yeah right, buddy. Hold your breath.
Now, I'm holding my cell phone next to me as I type this, for verification purposes....
The missed calls from "Crazy Indiana Guy" on my phone read as follows:
July 25, 2:23 pm
August 2, 8:23 am
August 7, 8:19 am
August 12, 9:24 am AND 2:11 pm
August 13, 11:37 am, 11:38 am (because OBVIOUSLY I'm going to answer a full minute after the first missed call), AND ALSO 4:57 pm, and 5:10 pm
And today, August 14, at 8:56 am.
Now I'm not sure what the legal definition for stalking or harassment is, but I'm pretty sure that COLLECTIONS AGENCIES don't try this hard to get ahold of someone. Every time he calls, he leaves a voicemail. And every time he leaves a voicemail, he tells me he's not sure if this is the right number, but could I please give him a call.
NO. FUCKING. WAY, Amigo!
Now I get it, most of you are probably saying "Why don't you just call him and tell him the horse is gone?". Here's the thing with that scenario: I don't know one SANE person that calls what could POSSIBLY be the correct phone number about a horse this many times, and quite frankly, if I DO talk to this guy, I feel like it's going to open up an ENTIRELY new bag of worms and I just really don't want to deal with it. I don't know this guy, other than the information he's told me about himself which I've already shared. I don't know if he's truly obsessed with this $500 yearling, or if he's some sort of serial killer/psychopath that's going to trace my call to find my address and come kidnap me and take me to a truck stop where he proceeds to rape and kill me and cut me up into teeny tiny pieces and dispose of me along the freeway back to South Bend...whichever freeway that might be because, quite frankly, I don't even know at this point.
I don't even like truck stops.
Pat says I wasn't mean enough to him back in the beginning. I tell him I generally TRY not to be mean to the older folks that call, because sometimes they just don't know, and how was I supposed to know he was going to be an overflowing basket full of crazy?! He says he's going to call him and tell him to knock the shit off before we get a restraining order. I tell him he's better off telling him I died and that he's harassing my family members now. But then I feel like that might send this guy off the deep end and he'll come searching for my grave to pay his respects to his obviously newfound best friend. I'm half tempted to tell Pat to give him my mom's address...he can randomly show up to her house if he ever gets a computer and directions...maybe she'll sell him the horse.
But I digress. Anyway, back in May, I received a few (as in, more than two) phone calls from an obviously crazy man in "riiiight around there South Bind, Eeeendiana" regarding this filly. The first one was essentially him asking me all sorts of asinine questions which, had he actually READ the ad, he would have already known the answers to. Did he read the ad? No. Why? Because he doesn't have a computer. Oh hell...here we go....
Side note: If I ever find the sonofabitch that keeps giving out my name and phone number to people looking for horses with NO other information aside from "She has a horse you might like! Call her!" I'm going to strangle them. They apparently ONLY know idiots without computers.
So after we establish everything that was already mentioned in the ad, (several times, because of COURSE, he's hard of hearing), he tells me that he's sixty-something years old, lives on his pension, and used to drive a truck for a living. Okay? This matters to me, why? Pension = broke or fairly close to it in my book.... you say "Pension" to me, and I automatically end the conversation in my head. How do you plan to care for a youngster on a fixed income? Babies have death-wishes, its a proven fact. If you can keep one alive until it turns 3, you're usually home free, but from 4 months till 3 years, you're best bet is to lock them in a padded stall. One vet bill and this guy's screwed. Plus, he's 60-something years old....he's going to get KILLED trying to deal with this horse.
Apparently this information was given to me to supplement his point that along with his lack of a computer, he is also lacking a fucking MAP and could I give him directions from South Bend?
Ask me if I know where South Bend is.... I know most of Oakland County, and I can get to the Ohio state line from I-75, I-275 AND US-23. That's pretty much the extent of my travel knowledge, and to me, that's pretty impressive. While I'm not exactly familiar with South Bend, I know its not in Ohio or Oakland County, so no. I cannot give him directions. He says he'll call me back in a few days. Yippee.
A few days goes by, then a week, then two....I think maaaaaybe I've lost him. I thank the Powers That Be and continue fielding calls and dodging potential bullets from various jackasses that think they need a youngling. Nowhere during this time do I think this guy was ever serious, and pretty much dismiss him from my brain-space.
And then one day the phone rings...
"Hi there darlin! This is Randy Green from Indiana!"
Oh fucking hell.....
This time, the conversation circles around the fact that this horse is five hundred dollars. And no, that price is not negotiable. Yes, I'll take payments, but I charge $250/month board while the horse is being paid for (its wasn't REALLY that high, but I've found that you can sometimes price things out of people's ideals and they might just go the hell away). Now, to MOST people, this equates to something very similar to highway robbery, and they'd tell me to screw myself and buy a horse elsewhere. But I've got a REAL winner on the line here, and he tells me this:
"Well, darlin, that's quite okay with me. Ya see, I don't mind payin' ya the extra two-fifty because down here, that's what it'd cost me to board her anyway. So I don't mind payin' you instead. Then I'll just come up and see her every week or so and pay ya a little bit on her every month when I get mah check."
"So you're going to drive SEVERAL HOURS to come see a horse every week?"
"Yep! I figure I'll sleep in mah truck at a truck stop or sumethin' 'n just stay the weekend each time. Ya'll got a truck stop 'round there, right?"
Yes, THIS is the guy I want to deal with on a weekly basis when he drives himself up here however many hours just to look at his horse through the fence and maybe pet her. I ask him how long he's planning on taking to pay for her....
"Oh, 'bout nine months or so I should think...."
So I'm going to keep this hellion of a youngster who doesn't believe that fence lines apply to her, AND deal with Crazy McGee for NINE MORE MONTHS? Ohnowayinhell.
I tell him that his plan isn't going to work. And tell him to call me when he's got $500 and is ready to come pick this horse up. If she sells in the meantime, too bad. I save dear Randy Green's number in my phone as "Crazy Indiana Guy". Common sense would indicate that this would be the end of our dealings with one another. But common sense does not apply in this situation.
Two months goes by...we're now well into July, I've moved from the White Lake facility, and my mother has taken the yearling and that's the end of it. The ads for the yearling came down at the middle of June, when I first decided to leave. There is no indication anywhere that this yearling is still for sale.
And then, the last week of July, my phone rings....
"Crazy Indiana Guy".....oh. My. God.
I send it to voicemail. Afterwords, I listen to his message, saying how he lost the phone number of the horse he really wanted, and he's pretty sure this is it, and could I please give him a call 'cuz he's still REEEAL interested.
Yeah right, buddy. Hold your breath.
Now, I'm holding my cell phone next to me as I type this, for verification purposes....
The missed calls from "Crazy Indiana Guy" on my phone read as follows:
July 25, 2:23 pm
August 2, 8:23 am
August 7, 8:19 am
August 12, 9:24 am AND 2:11 pm
August 13, 11:37 am, 11:38 am (because OBVIOUSLY I'm going to answer a full minute after the first missed call), AND ALSO 4:57 pm, and 5:10 pm
And today, August 14, at 8:56 am.
Now I'm not sure what the legal definition for stalking or harassment is, but I'm pretty sure that COLLECTIONS AGENCIES don't try this hard to get ahold of someone. Every time he calls, he leaves a voicemail. And every time he leaves a voicemail, he tells me he's not sure if this is the right number, but could I please give him a call.
NO. FUCKING. WAY, Amigo!
Now I get it, most of you are probably saying "Why don't you just call him and tell him the horse is gone?". Here's the thing with that scenario: I don't know one SANE person that calls what could POSSIBLY be the correct phone number about a horse this many times, and quite frankly, if I DO talk to this guy, I feel like it's going to open up an ENTIRELY new bag of worms and I just really don't want to deal with it. I don't know this guy, other than the information he's told me about himself which I've already shared. I don't know if he's truly obsessed with this $500 yearling, or if he's some sort of serial killer/psychopath that's going to trace my call to find my address and come kidnap me and take me to a truck stop where he proceeds to rape and kill me and cut me up into teeny tiny pieces and dispose of me along the freeway back to South Bend...whichever freeway that might be because, quite frankly, I don't even know at this point.
I don't even like truck stops.
Pat says I wasn't mean enough to him back in the beginning. I tell him I generally TRY not to be mean to the older folks that call, because sometimes they just don't know, and how was I supposed to know he was going to be an overflowing basket full of crazy?! He says he's going to call him and tell him to knock the shit off before we get a restraining order. I tell him he's better off telling him I died and that he's harassing my family members now. But then I feel like that might send this guy off the deep end and he'll come searching for my grave to pay his respects to his obviously newfound best friend. I'm half tempted to tell Pat to give him my mom's address...he can randomly show up to her house if he ever gets a computer and directions...maybe she'll sell him the horse.
Monday, July 9, 2012
My father, the motivational speaker
Now that I'm (for all practical purposes) unemployed, I've been spending my free time at my father's auto-repair shop. Essentially, I get up FAR too early to do nothing but shuttle repaired mail trucks back & forth to home offices, run to pick up parts, and essentially spend 4-6 hours a day being that freeloading daughter that's done nothing remotely productive with her life, and now doesn't even have a stupid hobby to piss away her free time with.
As I think I've mentioned before, I am the oldest of four children in my family, and still haven't graduated from college. This is a point of contention between my father and myself, and I'm fairly confident that he's resigned his thoughts of me to somewhere between "Where did I go wrong? Why didn't I just pull out?" and "Well, at least she's too chubby to be a stripper."
This was the pep talk we had this morning in the truck on our way back to the shop:
"So I got a call back from one of the temp agencies I sent my resume to."
"Oh yeah? How are you gonna get a job? You're twenty-four years old, ya got no skills. Ya been playing with horses your whole life. Ya got no job. Ya got nothin' goin' for ya."
"I've got skills!"
"Sleeping around doesn't count cuz you're too damn stupid to charge for it. Even the smart girls charge for it!"
"...Thanks Dad."
I need a real job. Stat.
As I think I've mentioned before, I am the oldest of four children in my family, and still haven't graduated from college. This is a point of contention between my father and myself, and I'm fairly confident that he's resigned his thoughts of me to somewhere between "Where did I go wrong? Why didn't I just pull out?" and "Well, at least she's too chubby to be a stripper."
This was the pep talk we had this morning in the truck on our way back to the shop:
"So I got a call back from one of the temp agencies I sent my resume to."
"Oh yeah? How are you gonna get a job? You're twenty-four years old, ya got no skills. Ya been playing with horses your whole life. Ya got no job. Ya got nothin' goin' for ya."
"I've got skills!"
"Sleeping around doesn't count cuz you're too damn stupid to charge for it. Even the smart girls charge for it!"
"...Thanks Dad."
I need a real job. Stat.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
I want what I want & I want it right now
Lately, stupid people are doing things and I realize why I'm not sorry to be getting out of the rescuing, rehabilitating and reselling business. For those of you that didn't know, as of last weekend, I moved out of the White Lake facility and decided to board my 3 personal horses out at a private farm so I can start actually enjoying them again. What a concept, right?! While I enjoyed working with the sale horses and ponies, and MOST people that I surrounded myself with, it came to the point where it was more of a headache than it was really worth, and I've always said that when it feels like work, I'm done. I have an aversion to REAL work, just ask my boyfriend.
I have had a lot of great clients these past few years. And to you all, I say thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me your money, taking my horses or ponies, and giving them the kinds of homes and lives they deserve. But mostly for giving me your money. I bought a lot of neat shit with it.
In all seriousness, I LOVE opening my Facebook page on a Monday morning and seeing pictures from buyers with their kids and the horses I sold them at a show or trail ride the weekend before. I still keep in touch with a good portion of the owners, and I love getting the "THANK YOU AGAIN! HE'S AWESOME!" texts months and years after they bought from me. It kind of makes me feel like what I did mattered, at least to someone.
And then I get these buyers who make me want to drive out to their farm, load up the horse, and punch them in the head on the way out. They don't happen very frequently (thank GOD), but they happen. And when they do, I wonder why I ever bothered doing this to begin with. I'm sure any real horseperson reading this knows exactly the kind of person I'm talking about.
These people will call you thirty times in a 24 hour period about one particular horse. They saw the ad, they watched ALL of the videos you posted of said horse, and they "fell in love/bonded/communicated" with the horse over the computer. I have a theory on this whole process: If you fall in love/bond/communicate with a damn HORSE over a computer, you should be getting an appointment with a psychologist, not an animal. When has falling in love with something with hooves over the internet ever gone well for anyone?
Alas, at one point, the teeny-tiny emotional part of me used to think that these people would be great homes to sell a rescued horse or pony to, because they OBVIOUSLY cared a lot about the horse, right? I'd invite these people out, and tell them to bring a trainer or some other objective, knowledgeable friend that is capable of seeing the REAL horse in front of them and being bluntly honest. They always complied. I'm sure with the amount of giddyness these people had built up, I could have told them to bring me the kidney of an African Grey elephant and they would have been on it like a good whore.
I never want to sell someone a horse that won't work for them. I don't care how much money they give me, it's a pain in the ass because they will ALWAYS call you unhappily later on and it will ALWAYS be your fault that they were stupid and didn't think anything through or listen to you when you said "Hey, this horse has 60 days under saddle, I don't think it'd be a good fit for you when you've been riding at a walk-only for your entire life." They'll tell you OH YES, they have a trainer! and OH YES, they're going to have LOTS of help working with this horse! They're not going to do it themselves! You can meet said trainer, listen with your own ears when said trainer says "Oh no, they're not going to do it themselves. I'm going to help them." and TRY and feel good about the new partnership you're being backed into making. I'm learning quickly that people don't CARE what won't work for them, I know NOTHING, even though I've been riding the horse daily for the past three months, they want what they want and they want it RIGHT NOW, goddamnit! "Forget riding the horse, he's obviously the same one from the videos. Here's some cash, let's throw it in the trailer!"
These are the people who take home a horse that's used to a non-negotiable set of rules, boundaries, and knows what's expected of it from me....and throw everything right out the goddamn window in the first week:
"What? You want to push me all over to check my pockets for treats? Go ahead, Sweetheart! Here's a few more for you while you search!"
"Oh look Honey! He's nibbling on my side when I scratch his withers! Isn't that cute? It's like he thinks I'm a herd member too!"
"Oh I could NEVER leave him tied up for a few minutes while I run to the bathroom, he'll start pawing and hollering because he misses me! He used to stand still for hours, but now if I don't come back quick, he'll pull and break his halter because he gets bored!"
"You want pull the reins right through my hands because running back to the barn on a trail means you get done faster? OKAY! Let's race NOBODY! Isn't this fun?!"
"Oh, he told me he didn't want to work today when he scooted away from my saddle going on his back. I'm just going to put him back outside to graze."
Eventually all of these cute little "Oh look Honey!"s add up to a rude, disrespectful horse who owns the person, not the other way around. Then I get a phone call from a frustrated owner who says the horse in their pasture "Isn't the same horse we bought." You're right, it's not. The horse YOU bought had manners, knew what was expected of it, and respected authority. YOU ruined that horse by treating it like a puppy or a child instead of the 1,200-pound animal that it is. I no longer use the phrase "Idiot-proof" in my ads....I'm just not good enough to make one truly idiot-proof, they've proven that to me. It's a sad time for us as a society of horsemen & women when we have to leave our sale videos up for years after the horse is gone solely to prove to the public that the horse had manners when it left here and to keep our name protected from jackasses with computers.
Anyone can ruin a horse very quickly when they neglect basic safety protocols. They're somewhat-intelligent animals (they ARE at the bottom of the food chain...), and they learn fairly-quickly, both good and bad. It is not my job to follow you around when you get home and make sure you're doing everything correctly to keep from screwing that horse up and turning it into a great big holy terror.
Also, I am not Kmart. I do not have a "If you break it, ruin it, or otherwise decide you don't want it anymore after owning it for months, I'll take it back for a full refund, no questions asked." policy. I will absolutely help you, (and if I can't, I will find someone that can) but I will not fix your stupidity for free, and I will not help you unless you're willing to admit you were wrong and don't know what you're doing. Do NOT call me whining about how you don't know what to do, you don't have any money for a trainer and you don't want the horse anymore. It's called a commitment. You made it when you bought that horse, and last I checked, a commitment meant you fixed things when they go wrong. I know a lot of trainers that are fairly inexpensive. If you're not willing, or are "too broke" to put out $40 for a one-hour session with a trainer, you have absolutely no business owning a horse. A regular vet bill STARTS at $40 for the barn call alone. It's not an ego trip for me to hear you admit you were wrong, it's only so I can remember that I'm dealing with TWO dumb animals during this process. I can fix horses, but I shouldn't have to fix horse-buyers as well.
Fortunately for me, I'm done with this nonsense for awhile. I'll still write blogs, because I'm sure I'll still encounter idiots that everyone else will want to laugh about, and maybe one day I'll be back into the swing of things & selling again. Until then, I can't say I'm going to miss it!!
I have had a lot of great clients these past few years. And to you all, I say thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me your money, taking my horses or ponies, and giving them the kinds of homes and lives they deserve. But mostly for giving me your money. I bought a lot of neat shit with it.
In all seriousness, I LOVE opening my Facebook page on a Monday morning and seeing pictures from buyers with their kids and the horses I sold them at a show or trail ride the weekend before. I still keep in touch with a good portion of the owners, and I love getting the "THANK YOU AGAIN! HE'S AWESOME!" texts months and years after they bought from me. It kind of makes me feel like what I did mattered, at least to someone.
And then I get these buyers who make me want to drive out to their farm, load up the horse, and punch them in the head on the way out. They don't happen very frequently (thank GOD), but they happen. And when they do, I wonder why I ever bothered doing this to begin with. I'm sure any real horseperson reading this knows exactly the kind of person I'm talking about.
These people will call you thirty times in a 24 hour period about one particular horse. They saw the ad, they watched ALL of the videos you posted of said horse, and they "fell in love/bonded/communicated" with the horse over the computer. I have a theory on this whole process: If you fall in love/bond/communicate with a damn HORSE over a computer, you should be getting an appointment with a psychologist, not an animal. When has falling in love with something with hooves over the internet ever gone well for anyone?
Alas, at one point, the teeny-tiny emotional part of me used to think that these people would be great homes to sell a rescued horse or pony to, because they OBVIOUSLY cared a lot about the horse, right? I'd invite these people out, and tell them to bring a trainer or some other objective, knowledgeable friend that is capable of seeing the REAL horse in front of them and being bluntly honest. They always complied. I'm sure with the amount of giddyness these people had built up, I could have told them to bring me the kidney of an African Grey elephant and they would have been on it like a good whore.
I never want to sell someone a horse that won't work for them. I don't care how much money they give me, it's a pain in the ass because they will ALWAYS call you unhappily later on and it will ALWAYS be your fault that they were stupid and didn't think anything through or listen to you when you said "Hey, this horse has 60 days under saddle, I don't think it'd be a good fit for you when you've been riding at a walk-only for your entire life." They'll tell you OH YES, they have a trainer! and OH YES, they're going to have LOTS of help working with this horse! They're not going to do it themselves! You can meet said trainer, listen with your own ears when said trainer says "Oh no, they're not going to do it themselves. I'm going to help them." and TRY and feel good about the new partnership you're being backed into making. I'm learning quickly that people don't CARE what won't work for them, I know NOTHING, even though I've been riding the horse daily for the past three months, they want what they want and they want it RIGHT NOW, goddamnit! "Forget riding the horse, he's obviously the same one from the videos. Here's some cash, let's throw it in the trailer!"
These are the people who take home a horse that's used to a non-negotiable set of rules, boundaries, and knows what's expected of it from me....and throw everything right out the goddamn window in the first week:
"What? You want to push me all over to check my pockets for treats? Go ahead, Sweetheart! Here's a few more for you while you search!"
"Oh look Honey! He's nibbling on my side when I scratch his withers! Isn't that cute? It's like he thinks I'm a herd member too!"
"Oh I could NEVER leave him tied up for a few minutes while I run to the bathroom, he'll start pawing and hollering because he misses me! He used to stand still for hours, but now if I don't come back quick, he'll pull and break his halter because he gets bored!"
"You want pull the reins right through my hands because running back to the barn on a trail means you get done faster? OKAY! Let's race NOBODY! Isn't this fun?!"
"Oh, he told me he didn't want to work today when he scooted away from my saddle going on his back. I'm just going to put him back outside to graze."
Eventually all of these cute little "Oh look Honey!"s add up to a rude, disrespectful horse who owns the person, not the other way around. Then I get a phone call from a frustrated owner who says the horse in their pasture "Isn't the same horse we bought." You're right, it's not. The horse YOU bought had manners, knew what was expected of it, and respected authority. YOU ruined that horse by treating it like a puppy or a child instead of the 1,200-pound animal that it is. I no longer use the phrase "Idiot-proof" in my ads....I'm just not good enough to make one truly idiot-proof, they've proven that to me. It's a sad time for us as a society of horsemen & women when we have to leave our sale videos up for years after the horse is gone solely to prove to the public that the horse had manners when it left here and to keep our name protected from jackasses with computers.
Anyone can ruin a horse very quickly when they neglect basic safety protocols. They're somewhat-intelligent animals (they ARE at the bottom of the food chain...), and they learn fairly-quickly, both good and bad. It is not my job to follow you around when you get home and make sure you're doing everything correctly to keep from screwing that horse up and turning it into a great big holy terror.
Also, I am not Kmart. I do not have a "If you break it, ruin it, or otherwise decide you don't want it anymore after owning it for months, I'll take it back for a full refund, no questions asked." policy. I will absolutely help you, (and if I can't, I will find someone that can) but I will not fix your stupidity for free, and I will not help you unless you're willing to admit you were wrong and don't know what you're doing. Do NOT call me whining about how you don't know what to do, you don't have any money for a trainer and you don't want the horse anymore. It's called a commitment. You made it when you bought that horse, and last I checked, a commitment meant you fixed things when they go wrong. I know a lot of trainers that are fairly inexpensive. If you're not willing, or are "too broke" to put out $40 for a one-hour session with a trainer, you have absolutely no business owning a horse. A regular vet bill STARTS at $40 for the barn call alone. It's not an ego trip for me to hear you admit you were wrong, it's only so I can remember that I'm dealing with TWO dumb animals during this process. I can fix horses, but I shouldn't have to fix horse-buyers as well.
Fortunately for me, I'm done with this nonsense for awhile. I'll still write blogs, because I'm sure I'll still encounter idiots that everyone else will want to laugh about, and maybe one day I'll be back into the swing of things & selling again. Until then, I can't say I'm going to miss it!!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Let's Breed Stuff!
Why
do people feel that just because they own a mare, they should force it to
reproduce? I’m sure many a
horse-enthusiast has asked this question, and I’m sure there are countless
answers like “Well look at her color!”
Yeah? Can you ride a color? If so, please teach me. Never mind the fact that she’s a
sickle-hocked, ewe-necked catastrophe with no known bloodlines or performance
record (actually, she’s not even broke at all), SHE HAS SPOTS! WE MUST IMPREGNATE HER!
My
favorite kind of pretend-breeder are those Craigslist idiots who promote their
stallion that has no performance record, awful conformation, no registration
papers, but good LORD is he gentle and wonderful (only because we let him bone
anything he can stick his manjunk into as often as he wants, so he’s too tired to
be a jerk)! One of my favorite
semi-local stallion ads reads as follows (and I’m quoting this directly from
the owner’s page, solely to prove my point):
“Currently Standing at Stud. accepting reg and grade
mares. soon to be double reg. pending APHA registration
Romeo
is a Beautiful boy, he is the most willing partner you will find. temperment is
a 2 out of 10 all day long, with mares in heats, or other stallions.
he
is pastured with another stallion and geldings. with no problems EVER.
Message me
if your interested.”
I don’t know WHY mare-owners aren’t clamoring to let this horse
stick his wang in their mare! His owner
is obviously SUCH a responsible breeder, I mean, she’ll let him screw anything
for a very nominal stud fee, registered or not, mare OR gelding! There’s nothing I like more than a moron that
makes grade junk foals for me to buy up six months later out of the kill pen
because it came out a solid instead of the pinto they thought they’d get, or grew out of being the cute fuzzy baby they assumed would stay that way its entire life!
After a little more research, I found a Craigslist ad from this SAME
fine example of a horsewoman leasing out yet another unregistered stud:
“+2yr old. Gypsy Walker cross. Blue roan pinto stud colt. seems to be
Gaited. For sale or Lease to approved homes only. Halter champion and learning
to drive. not ready to ride yet. standing at stud. proven producer.
$75/lease monthly. and
$1500 if bought.”
Winner. Right there. Let’s all take our mares to this broad. Maybe our stud fees can buy her a few grammar
lessons, because I’m sure she’s not going to use the money to GELD THE DAMN
THINGS!
And then we have the pony breeders…not only are they not even
remotely concerned with what their hormonal little dickhead of a stud might
produce, they’re really just aiming to help him “prove himself a man”:
“Ariamis is
3 year old nice stallion
He needs to
prove himself a man
Great confirmation
easy to work with just a nice guy
We don't own
a trailer,so the ladies need to come to us .
He is not
registered
He is white
and tan marked real pretty
Thanks for
looking (Name removed to protect the stupid)
(419)XXX-XXXX”
This
is the great Ariamis (I cut the head off of the kid in the picture so they
can’t sue me, but the rest of the picture, including the lack of LEGS on the
horse, is original):
God
help us all….I cannot make this shit up. People are REALLY this stupid, and they ALL own horses!
In all of this, I do want to thank the responsible stallion
owners out there (and I can think of about a dozen I know personally off the
top of my head) who actually consider the offspring they might put their
horse’s name on. Thank you for not
breeding to junk mares just to collect the stud fee. Thank you for considering the life of that
unborn foal in your decision to help create it.
Thank you for considering why that cross might not be in the best
interest of everyone involved, and then turning away that particular mare so
you DON’T produce yet another excess horse that will probably end up on its way
to a slaughterhouse in a few years. And
thank you most of all for turning away dumbass mare owners who just want a baby
to play with for 4 months. Now could you
please punch them in the back of the head on their way out the door?
Non-Horse People
With the exception of my younger sister (who is a full-time college
student and OBVIOUSLY more motivated to graduate than myself, so she doesn’t
really even count), I am the only horse-person in my family. This really isn’t a problem, per say, rather I prefer to take the opportunistic approach and think of myself as the smartest
person in the room whenever the topic of conversation should involve ANYTHING
horse-related. BAM, I win.
The real problem arises when I have to do any socializing or try and
hold any sort of a conversation with any of my relatives or non-horse-related acquaintances. There's always that awkward silence when none one of us know really what to talk about because they know nothing about horses, and assume that's all my life consists of, and because I just don't care about their lives packed full of t-ball practice and PTA meetings. And then they start with the stupid questions. It doesn't matter if I saw these same people two months ago at a family gathering, its always the SAME stupid questions. It drives me crazy, but because these people are family, I deal with it. I suspect that's why the only time I drink is at family functions.
Horse people have the misfortune of having an attractive
hobby that brings a general assortment of stupid questions from the
common-folk. Yes, most people probably
handle it a little better than I do, but I blame that on my lack of patience
and the abundance of stupid people that I come into contact with on a daily
basis. Stupid people are drawn to me
like a fat kid to a cupcake, I don’t know why, but it’s a fact of life, and
I’ve come to accept it. I’ve also come
to accept the fact that I can only be nice to someone if I feel they’re NOT
stupid nor a waste of my time, otherwise I’m going to toy with them for my
own amusement. I’m sure that type of
thought process can be diagnosed as some sort of narcissistic disorder, but I
don’t care. If I were anything
different, I probably wouldn’t have created this blog, and I’d be forced to
annoy all of you via text to bitch about the moronic questions I receive every
day.
I’m sure the NICE horse people that I know would respond to
these questions and statements of ignorance differently, perhaps with some tact and maybe a little more helpfulness, but again, in my book,
nice is overrated. Instead, I take the
opportunity to craft creative responses to these questions in hopes that I
either baffle the person asking them, or make sure they realize what a stupid
question they just asked.
“So what do you do
with all of your horses? Do you breed
them?” Yes, the only thing you can
do with a horse, let alone 10+ horses, is breed them. And you see, I have this personal philosophy
that if it has a uterus, it should be impregnated (unless of course its me
we’re talking about). So yes. I breed every horse that you see in front of
you. That fat one over there with the obviously
male genitalia hanging out? He’s not
obese, he’s pregnant too.
“Do they bite?” Yes, if you stick your fingers in my pasture
fence and wiggle them to try and get the damned horse to come to the fence so
you can pet it, yes, they’re going to bite you.
Then they’ll pull you through the fence and rip you limb from limb Jurassic Park-style. That 12-hand pony is the worst offender. He ate the mailman last week.
“Ohmygosh! That horse is lying down! Is he dead?” Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. And when your children lay down at night,
they actually die for 8-12 hours also!
Seriously people, didn’t any of you ever watch a National Geographic documentary
when you were growing up? Animals lay down to sleep too!
“Look Honey! The little one is being chased by his
mommy!” No, dumbass, that pony is
getting his ass kicked by the herd boss because he forgot where his place on
the pecking order was. Not every small
horse is a baby; they make these things called ponies…
“Do you have to like,
feed them and pick up their poop?” Nah, hay got expensive so we started tying
apples to the dog’s backs and sending them into the pasture after a tennis
ball, then we bet on which one comes out alive.
It’s actually pretty entertaining.
And poop? We don’t worry about
poop. If you ignore it long enough, it eventually
goes away on its own.
“Can my kids ride one
of your horses while we’re here?” Oh I don’t knooooowww; can I sleep with
your husband? No? Why not?
A quick side note to all non-horse people: Asking someone if you can
ride their horse without their offering first is comparable to asking if you
can blow their husband or boyfriend. You
just don’t do it, period. Buy your kids
a three-dollar pony ride at the fair instead and save yourself the
embarrassment.
“Oh, you sell
horses? How much does a horse go for?” First of all, and trust me on this one, I
wouldn’t sell you a horse if you were the last person on the face of this
earth, solely for the good of the horse, so does it REALLY matter how much a
horse costs? Secondly, how much do YOU
make? Same question.
“I rode a horse last
year on vacation.” I really have no
idea why people say this, but they ALWAYS feel its necessary to tell me they’ve
either never rode a horse before, or they tell me when the last time they rode
one was, usually followed by some useless piece of information about said experience
(the horse’s name, its color, its breed, something like that) like maybe I’ll know
the exact horse they rode. I never have
any idea what I’m supposed to reply to this with….so I’m going to start with
“Oh really? I took a GIGANTIC shit this
morning, it felt GREAT!”
“My (Insert various
title like ‘friend’, ‘sister’, ‘co-worker’s third cousin twice removed’) in southeast
Wyoming rides horses! Do you know
her?” Yes, as a matter of fact, I
do. You see, horse-people have a secret
underground society, which is only revealed to its members upon riding a horse
for the 50th time. If you own
a horse, you are sent a special phone book every year that has the names and
phone numbers of everyone else in the world that has a horse, so you can get
together for birthday parties and whatnot.
Sometimes, we all get together on Facebook and talk about Tennessee
Walkers versus Spotted Saddle Horses and John Lyons versus Pat Parelli.
Then we talk about all of the stupid questions you
non-horse-folks ask us.
My boyfriend is not a horse person. He's fantastic, but he's not a horse person, he's a big-truck-and-trailer guy. He'd never been around a horse prior to meeting me, and the poor guy has been such a good sport about it all, I have to give him a lot of credit. He's got two dually pick ups (and no, that's NOT why I started dating him), and he can turn a trailer full of horses around in the tiniest spot imaginable without batting an eye (THAT's why I started dating him). He's good, like REAL good, he can even load and unload horses in the dark now and he's started using my emergency-release knot for everything except tying horses. He's also learned the hard way that trying to catch an evasive OTTB in a pasture-footrace will result in the horse laughing at him while he's panting for breath in the corner. We were sitting on the couch watching TV the other night and I was, as usual, biting my nails. This has been a major point of contention between us. He tells me to stop, I tell him 24 years of biting will not be undone in the time we've been together. I tell him its like cribbing, and that he should just let me do my thing to relieve stress. He says he's getting me a cribbing collar.
He knows what a cribbing collar is. Hell, he knows what CRIBBING is, and he's not a horse person. He also doesn't ask stupid questions.
I think I'm going to have to keep him.
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