Damn, I Forgot My Keys!

When I first started riding lessons, I always felt like it took forever to tack up the mule I'd be riding for the day. I didn't know what tack I needed to use, so I was always hounding the wranglers with questions, certain I was never going to know the difference between a Kimberwick and a d-ring snaffle. My favorite days were the busy ones when they'd just hand me a mule that was warmed up and ready to go.

Five years later, I've my own mini tack room in my trailer, which is parked at the barn. Armed with Kimberwicks, curb bits, three saddles, breast collars, cruppers, and the like, I can get Maxine ready to go for Western or English riding in fifteen minutes or less, including a light grooming.

Unless, of course, I forget my keys--which I did today.

"I guess I'm taking a road trip," said Travis, when I realized my main set of keys was still firmly attached to the belt loop of the pants I wore yesterday and the set that's supposed to be in my car hadn't made it back to the glove box since I'd borrowed them as a safety set for my last camp trip.

"Why are you taking a road trip," I asked.

"Because, all of you're tack's locked up," he said.

"No biggie," I replied. "I'll just borrow a saddle and bridle."

Saddle and bridle my ass (pun intended). Not only did I plan to take an English lesson today, I also brought my driving bridle and reins to long-line Maxine. That means that by the time the day was out, I'd borrowed a dressage saddle (boy, was it comfortable!), saddle pad, girth, bridle, crupper, spurs, surcingle, and driving whip.

Of course, since all of the tack was on loan, I had to take time to size everything to fit Maxine. This included trading bits on a bridle so the bit wasn't cinched up to Maxine's eyeballs. As I slowly adjusted the borrowed tack, I had flashbacks to my first year of riding when it took 30 minutes or more to saddle up.

Nevertheless, we had a fantastic lesson. We've been working on our English frame for the last few months and Maxine has responded beautifully. Her trot is so light and floaty that I've begun to call her the English mule disguised as a Western mule. And her canter, which I never thought would happen on both leads, is easy and collected most of the time. We're slowly working our way to 20 laps at the posting trot (five at a time) each lesson. As a result, Maxine is in the best shape of her life (and I'm slowly getting there, too). She honestly looks ten years younger than when I bought her four years ago.

After our English lesson, Travis helped me long-line Maxine and she did great. Max was very quiet and responded will to her lesson. It wasn't the first time with this new challenge, but she and I are still quite new to the cart world. My two-year goal is to have her driving a cart in order to extend her usability into old age. When you have a mule this fab, you do what you can to ensure that your partnership lasts as long as possible.

After we finished, I returned everything back to it's proper bag, corner, and peg. In the end, I'm kinda glad I forgot my keys, because I got to try a new saddle that I really liked. Plus, it gave me a chance to show Travis a few more things about tack fitting (four cheek wrinkles are bad!). Next time I'll remember my keys, but it's nice to know that even when I don't, we can still have a great day.

Photo: Maxine is encouraged to deepen her headset as she floats at the trot. Still, not bad for an old roping mule.

A Horsey Person's Worst Nightmare

Of all of the horrible things that can go wrong when you have equines, I consider equine theft to be one of the worst. With a mule as fantastic as Maxine, I do have my concerns when heading to bed at a show or campground. Now that Madge is getting a lot of attention, I know I'll be just as concerned about her.

Unfortunately, my fears aren't without merit, as a little girl recently found out. On April 8 or 9, her fantastic Tennessee Walking Horse mare was stolen. I don't know this little girl, but I sympathize. No matter where you live, please be on the lookout. If I hear any news, I'll post it here.

Travis, the Mule Skinner

In my experience, there are two kinds of horse husbands: those who couldn't care less about their wife's horsey lifestyle ("Can't I go fishing instead?") and those who are equally eager to slide into the saddle ("Aren't you tacked up yet?"). My husband falls somewhere in the middle.

Despite the fact that he's from Oklahoma, Travis is a true city boy. Whenever I dream out loud about living in a country paradise, he rolls his eyes and replies with thoughts about the reality of country living--muck and repairs. I sometimes wonder how I could I have married the only Okie who's not a cowboy!

Nevertheless, Travis has always supported my equine habits. When we're light on cash and I share my guilt about the board we pay for the girls, he's the first to defend the value of our mules. When Maxine gets a scratch, he won't rest until he knows what happened and how we can prevent it from happening again. If Madge runs out of alfalfa, he drives to the barn on his day off to make sure she gets a bail to accompany her regular grass hay. And each week, he dutifully helps me pack grain bags in our garage so they can be delivered on lesson day.

While he's always been of great support to me, I've noticed that he's become even more invested since Madge was born. However, I doubt it's just a coincidence. When Madge was born, she didn't start nursing right away. When I got the call that she had been delivered, I finished up a few things at work and headed down to the barn as quickly as I could. When I arrived, Travis was already under the mare, holding our new little girl, trying to get her to nurse. He struggled with her for over an hour--moving her head to the teet and picking her up when she fell so she could keep trying. As I stood there watching, I knew he was bonding with that little brat.

Nearly a year later, Travis and Madge have become quite the pair. He's learned so much about groundwork by helping me with her and he doesn't let her get away with anything. When she tries to catch him in a moment of weakness, he's often reacts with thoughtful discipline before I can even finish a sentence.

As you can probably tell, I wouldn't trade my city boy for any cowboy in the world. He provides the perfect balance of interest and disinterest. If I invite him on a ride, he's happy to join us, and yet he doesn't sulk if I want to go camping with the girls. Instead, he takes the opportunity to watch baseball and play poker with his friends. While he's still more comfortable in a baseball hat than a cowboy hat (even though he looks damn good in one), he's become accustomed to his barn boots. At this rate, maybe, just maybe, I'll convince him to move to the country some day.

Photo: Madge gives Travis some lip after a recent training session. While she's shedding out nicely and is freshly roached, Travis needs a haircut!

I Love My Blind Gimpy Mule

Last November, while riding Maxine through a dark parking lot after a show, I noticed something odd. As I asked her to walk behind my trailer, into a shadow, she became skittish. Try as I might, I couldn't convince her to ride into the darkness.

Frustrated, I dismounted and led her into the abyss. She was fine as long as I held her, but as soon as I moved away to put something in the trailer, she would nervously retreat to the barn.

"What's she scared of," asked Travis.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "She's probably faking it."

Personal observation: Maxine is a smart girl with a knack for tossing in an occasional stumble during lessons in an attempt to get out of work, or she'll throw out a shoulder in order to pick up her preferred lead at the lope, even if it's not the one I asked for. Needless to say, I wouldn't put it past her to fake a mood to get back to her hay-filled stall as quickly as possible.

This past February, I was once again faced with untacking in the dark after a show. As we rode out to the trailer, Max refused to continue into the darkness without me on the ground by her side.

Later that evening, I mentioned it to my trainer as we were rehashing our day. Without hesitation, her mom suggested that I have her eyes checked--just in case. Knowing that she has a sixth sense when it comes to equine behavior, I made a mental note to call the vet.

Back home, time passed quickly, as it so often does. I still intended to call the vet, but it had not yet made it to the top of my priority list.

Then, as I was untacking after a lesson, I noticed that Maxine was shying away from the tack room of the trailer. Each time I'd pull her close to the door so I could remove her bridle, she'd quickly, but gently, pull away. It was a bright day, making the tack room seem dark and ominous--much like the shadows a the last two shows.

As I did my best to convince her that she was safe, I looked closely at her left eye and noticed silvery strands through the middle of her pupil. Needless to say, I called the vet right away, despite the fact that by this time I had a good idea of the prognosis.

This Friday, the vet confirmed my assumption--Maxine has cataracts. While they have started in both eyes, the one in her left eye is farther along and has begun to affect her sight. According to the vet, it's like she's looking through a windshield that's has a rock thrown through it--some spots are normal, while others are restricted. Fortunately, she can still see and, according to the vet, should have limited sight for years. However, it's likely she'll eventually go blind in one or both eyes, should she live long enough.

While the prognosis isn't ideal, and there's no solution other than prevention, I'm glad to know what I'm dealing with. I know she definitely needs reassurance, not discipline, when faced with dark areas. My trainer will help me teach her cues that will assist her as she slowly looses her sight. And, it's likely that the pain she's had thus far, if any, has been managed by the daily dose of Bute she receives to manage her ringbone, which she was diagnosed with last year. That's right, I have a blind, gimpy mule.

Through this, I've been comforted by an old memory. As a kid, my mom took me to ride horses on the beach in Bandon, Oregon. One of their best horses was totally blind, yet she could safely take a beginners because she trusted her rider. I have a feeling that like that blind horse, Maxine will continue to be fantastic--with or without sight. I eagerly look forward to our continued adventures together.

Photo: Maxine braves the waves at the beach. She wasn't gone in the water yet, but on our last trip she got within a foot of the incoming waves.