Random Rant

Today's rant brought to you by the Parelli Kool-Aid drinking folks at my boarding facility.

I can't STAND Parellied horses. The ones belonging to the Kool-Aid drinking owner of the farm are rude, pushy and spoiled to the point of being somewhat dangerous. I have been working with one mare belonging to one of the acolytes of the Kool-Aid, and after 6 months finally have a somewhat normal horse that behaves, surprisingly, like a HORSE. Not like an over sized dog. When I started with her, she would literally knock you the hell off the mounting block every time you went to get on. She would frisk you for cookies and always had her face all up in your business. I am NOT a scratching post and made that very clear to her. She would also turn and nuzzle and chew on your foot while you were mounted, I couldn't figure out why until I saw one of the other folks doing it and praising their horse. It is not a sign of affection, and it turns into biting. She gets caught, groomed, saddled and ridden, and if she is a VERY good girl, she MIGHT get a treat, one, when she is minding her own business.

Exhibit 1 - We will call him the Fuzzy Little Jerk or FLJ for short. I have had this horse come at me with his little ears back and his evil little eyes narrowed more times than I care to count. Thankfully, I moved my mare to a different pasture. I was told to shake my finger at him and shoo him away. Yeah, right. He just looked at me and flattened his ears MORE. A fellow boarder overheard the owner telling a girl that was riding him not to try to make him mind, he didn't feel like doing something that day. Excuse me? Last time I checked, the horse doesn't really get an opinion on that unless he is sick or in pain.

Exhibit 2 - This one is known as the Big Pushy Moose or BPM. This horse has NO ground manners. He won't pick up a foot for his owner for anything. We have watched her tug and beg and he just stands there. Myself and the other non-Kool-Aid-Drinking boarder could walk over, grab his chestnut, twist slightly, and volia, hoof lifted. Hmm. He will run you the hell over, he will swing his big ol' head around and knock you down, he will walk all over you and push you around. He is ALWAYS looking for cookies or candy in your pockets. No sense of personal space or respect for the handler.

I don't get it. I just don't.

The Gift Horse

She is gone. She passed on to where the grass is ever green on Sunday, March 13. She was 30 years old. She went peacefully and was buried in the pasture she ruled for 15 years. I feel like a huge piece of me has gone with her. I have her daughter, known as the Silly Red Filly here with me, so a part of her lives on. She changed my life, she made me understand how to communicate with horses and how to be patient and understanding. Her wisdom, strength, speed and stamina were endless. She was still competing and winning in the months before she passed. She was with me through everything, victory and defeat, joy and despair. She has always been there, a constant anchor, ready at any time to remind me that I couldn't fix everything, and that I didn't know everything. Run free my old girl, I will see you again, wait for me at the gate like you always have.

These photos were taken in Oct. of 2010, she was 29.