Damn.

Madge got away again.

Last Saturday, I took Madge for a jaunt down the road in the golf cart. It's a great way to give her a good workout without having to tack up Maxine. It can be kinda tricky to watch the baby, steer the cart, and keep both hands on the rope for safety, but I've got it down pretty good. Or, so I thought.

We head down the road, away from the barn. Madge seemed perfectly content in an easy jog. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped and pulled back. The rope zipped through my gloved hand. I caught it at the last minute, jumped out of the cart, and gave her a firm swat on the butt to move her forward. After a quick adjustment, we set off again with her at a comfortable jog.

After we rounded the corner and were about 50 yards from the turnaround point, she pulled back again. Madge moved so quickly that, despite having both hands on the rope while driving, I wasn't able to keep a grip on the lead, and it slipped through my hands before I could bat an eyelash.

Madge skipped down the road about ten feet and then turned to face me. "Come, Madge," I chirped--fingers virtually crossed. She took a step toward me. Hopeful that she'd come to me, I stood calmly, waiting for her to bridge the distance. She turned toward the middle of the road and took a step--right onto her lead rope. Startled by the quick jerk to her nose, she turned and galloped around the corner toward the barn.

I stood--momentarily helpless. Then, I grabbed my cell phone and called my trainer back at the barn.

"Loose mule!" I hollered when she answered.

"Here she comes," she replied.

Hanging up the phone, I jumped in the golf cart and rounded the corner just in time to see her butt turn into the driveway and hightail it to the barn.

'ARGH!' I thought to myself. I knew this was bad. This was the second time she'd gotten away from me in a week and, as my trainer's mom says, three times and it becomes a habit.

"Looks like someone's going to get a few more miles put on," said my trainer, as she handed Madge's rope to me. "Madge deserves quite a workout for that!"

I turned the cart around and headed back toward the road, frustrated that I'd let this happen again. As Madge jogged next to the cart, I studied her movement, watching for any sign that would show she's up to no good. As I watched, I noticed that every time her gaze thoughtfully shifted to the left, she'd begin to slow up. That was the signal I was looking for.

Taking the wheel with my left hand, I shifted my seat so I could hang my right arm out the back of the cart. This placed my buggy whip directly behind her... behind. Each time her gaze drifted, I gave her a light tug on the rope and a firm tap on the withers.

The rest of the drive was successful, without one instance of her pulling back, yet I didn't go home content. I knew that while I'd won the battle, it was merely one battle in a much bigger war, and as much as I hate to admit it--even though there's no shame in it--I'm not yet experienced enough to win this war without the help of a five-star general.

I knew what had to be done.

"So, I found some money in my budget," I said to my trainer the next day. "I don't know what your schedule is, but would you be willing to take Madge in for training... tomorrow?"

"Yes," she exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'll write a check today," I smiled, knowing I'd just hired my five-star general.

Photo: Madge smiles for the camera.

Baby's Birthday Escape

Last Sunday, May 8, I went to a local riding park with friends. On the way to the barn, I decided to take Madge along to celebrate her first birthday. She's been doing very well with her ponying, so I thought it was time to take her a little farther from home.

We arrived the park after an hour-long drive and I tacked up Maxine. Then, we were on our way.

We set off down the big hill toward the trail system. The trail we chose follows the east perimeter of the park. Reaching the end of the property to the north, we turned left and started up a very steep hill. This was a lean forward and grab the saddle kind of hill. I gave Maxine her head and let her find her way, trusting her to find the safest route.

Unfortunately, about halfway up the hill, Madge decided that she'd had enough. She planted her feet and pulled back. Not wanting to roll Maxine back down the hill, I let go of Madge's lead and promptly yelled, "SHIT!"

Madge relished her new-found freedom and set off down the hill at a gallop. Because the hill was so steep, I couldn't immediately set off after. Instead, I stopped a moment to assess the situation. After a quick survey of the setting, I settled on the various scenarios that I was likely about to face.

1. She'd turn around and come back.
   
2. She'd head back to the trailer and I'd meet her there.
3. She'd meet the cross fence, head up the next hill, and we'd catch her--eventually.
4. She'd meet the cross fence (which was barbed wire), not recognize it (because she's never been out in a barbed wire fence), and I'd spend the afternoon with wire cutters before dragging back an injured mule.

Prepared to deal with any of the four scenarios, however gloomy, I set off calmly down the grassy face of the hill we'd just climbed.

At the bottom of the hill, Madge saw the fence, rounded the corner, and came to a stop behind some trees. Her jet black body was hidden by the trees, but I could still see the red bareback pad I'd thrown on her for a little saddle training. I could tell by her reaction that loosing sight of the group took the wind out of her sails.

"WOOooo!" she hollered as she ran back up the other side of the next hill to the west. Fortunately, when she saw us, she stopped and started grazing.

As Max and I tip-toed down the hill--yes, Maxine actually has a "tip toe" command--I chirped, "Come, Madge!" I started teaching her this command when she was about two weeks old. I'd stand in one corner of her stall and call to her in a happy voice and she'd trot over for some lovin'

When Madge heard her name, her head popped in the air and she trotted over. I was so proud! Unfortunately, due to her relationship with Maxine "the babysitter," I couldn't get close enough to grab her lead from the saddle. After checking for a suitable mounting spot (there ain't no gettin' this hiney back into the saddle from the ground), I hopped off and walked up to Madge who stood still, waiting for some lovin'.

Crisis averted!

The rest of the ride went well. Maxine won my heart for putting up with it all, including Madge sometimes ponying with her head resting on Maxine's butt and the time when the rope got under her tail. Maxine hardy batted an eyelash. That's why she's still my best girl.

Photo: Maxine lets out a yawn after a long, hilly trail ride, while Madge tries to steal some attention.