I'm not even going to try to get years right, but Libby's first show pony was Lieba. We called her Leave it to Lieba for a show name. She was a great starter pony in that she wanted to do as little work as possible and was SAFE. At the end of the season we finally took pity on poor Libby who could not make her trot to save her soul. At Lieba's last show we all celebrated when they actually trotted one entire lap around the arena. It was like winning Olympic gold.
She went from Lieba the walk/walk pony to Shadow. Shadow was a mutt pony, most likely welsh cross and kind of the opposite of Lieba. She was safe, but she also liked to go. I remember one show where we tried her in a snaffle. Libby was warming up with her and Shadow decided to take off to join some other horses on the other end of the arena at the fastest little trot. Libby was pulling back frantically until my friend and her trainer coached her through pulling little Shadow around in a one rein stop. No more snaffle for Shadow. I believe it was that same show that naughty little Shadow went into the halter class, reared and pulled away from Libby and then went on to win the class. She was a shit, but she was a cute little shit.
I have loads of Giggles stories. I vividly remember the time we were trail riding and Sophie couldn't get her head up and get her to stop eating so I told her to whack Giggles on the butt. Giggles gave a half hearted buck and loped up to us. Scared the heck out of Sophie, but we all laughed. There was our first regional show and Libby waited for her very last class to bring home that first place neck ribbon. She banged and clanged her stall so many times, but it was Windom with the metal walls where she woke up the fairgrounds when she wasn't the first one fed. Or the time someone suggested we put a snaffle in Giggles to jump a course. Giggles loved to jump and poor Libby was barely more than a passenger as they flew around that course at record breaking speeds. And then that county fair. The one where Libby could finally compete on her own pony. She and Giggles won every single class, even dominating the games except that pole weaving class. Libby wanted me to go contest it as she was sure she had beaten the second place kid who only trotted the pattern, but I wouldn't. Thus wrecking her perfect 100. She got over it. Giggles also carried Sophie the show she decided that the light up pink cowboy hat with the crown on it and edged in fur was a reasonable show hat to wear for lead line. Oh and a personal favorite, the time Giggles chose the inspection part of a showmanship pattern to decide to take a poop, at Champ Show nonetheless. Somehow Libby and Giggles still pulled off a first place finish in that pattern.
Water crossings on trail rides bring back memories. Like the time Quincy launched himself into the river, almost landing in my lap astride Giggles and landing Libby in front of the saddle on his neck. Somehow she managed to hoist herself back into the saddle and never even got wet. Ace was a special kind of stupid on his first water crossing, throwing himself down on the bank and causing both Libby and I to be soaked and Libby to end up with a swollen foot. Others on the other hand were total gems, like Coupe who just walked in like he'd done it a thousand times. Or Oscar, the steadiest trail horse in the world, who did all he could to drag Ace into the water and then stood ground tied for several minutes in the river, while I took over for him.
There were a lot of emotional wins over the years; Libby's second place with Rye at Congress in western horsemanship. Libby's first place in English equitation at state fair and then a week later, a repeat performance at Champ Show also with Rye. But probably the most emotional was Central Classic 2013. Early in the day my nephew was flown via Mayo One for a complication related to his cancer treatment. In hysterics I left the girls with friends and drove to check in with family. I arrived back in time for Sophie's western horsemanship pattern on Cotton. As she was going in she announced that she was going to ride that pattern for Alex. They had a nearly perfect pattern and won that class. My heart overflowed that day.
Simon brought memories too like the hysterical time Libby and I rode him together in tandem bareback. I'm pretty sure she ended up in my lap by the time the class was over. I'm still bummed his injury prevented us from ever getting to do that class at Champ Show. There was also that flawless English pattern, just beautiful, except I botched a diagonal. Flying lead changes are so much fun to ride.
I can still picture Buddy bucking off Libby and Sophie in the front yard because they thought they could kneel on him bareback. Or the time he wouldn't trot in a showmanship pattern so Sophie unashamedly just reached back and whacked him to get him going - even the judge got a giggle out of that one. I will never forget Libby thinking she could get in front of two racing weanlings, throw her hands up and they would run around her. Her chipped tooth won't let her forget that life lesson. Weanlings don't alter course. I remember little Thunder stealing gloves, hammers and the key out of the four wheeler when we would try to fix fence, but my favorite memories of Thunder were our cart rides around the countryside and the time we drove him to town.
I have loads of memories of China; first rides, first shows, first wins. Our very special MEC weekend will always be one of the highlight weekends of my horse show memories. But one of my favorite memories of China is the day we went to get her. I still wasn't sure we should even be picking up this yearling, I just couldn't afford her with the breakup and chaos that ensued. And the roads were terrible and this guy, this new guy, was going to be riding along for the nearly 3 hour round trip. On top of all that, I had asked how big she was and the breeder told me she was a big filly at 14.1 -14.2. As almost everyone always exaggerates how big their horses I expected her to be a normal size yearling. Then that trailer door opened and this big old filly stepped out and I was like "whoa". She was exactly as he described. And when she unloaded in a Perkins parking lot and then loaded again into our trailer for her first time unloading and loading again, I could see she was as quiet and calm as he had said she was too. The start of something amazing.
Births of foals are all permanently etched in my memories. I remember little Vegas coming out one foot at a time and scaring us, only to come out completely unassisted when no one was looking for a second. I can still hear Libby's excited voice when she called to tell me that she had discovered Bibble out in the pasture with Gretchen, or walking over the hill and finding Fancy with Chic. I think it was a call or a text from my dad when Luna was born and I remember asking, "Does she have spots?" and his reply not being much help to a color breeder, "yep, one little one on her forehead." Baby Cher, Baby Cash and Baby Chevy all arrived in the middle of the night without much excitement, but I'll never forget tiny Baby Triton and how unbelievably little he seemed to all of us at only a foot tall.
Not every memory is a happy one. There was the English equitation pattern on Chic where she was a complete idiot, even popping up at the cone and basically acting like a 2 year old who was barely broke. I left the arena in tears and called my friend. She cheered me up by joking that English was dumb because "who even did fox hunt anymore". Her sense of sarcasm made me giggle and we had a much better day in western.
There was that memorable rearing over backwards moment, the smashing into the trailer, the bucking off on the trail ride oh and the epic dismount followed by collarbone surgery. Those memories I literally have the scars to remind me.
I'll never forget how hard it was to hug Levi goodbye and know that he wasn't going to be coming back from the next set of drugs in his system. There was the traumatic putting down of Little Star, the sweetest little shetland on the planet. There was the day we sent Rye, Giggles, Chic and so many others off to their new homes and new adventures. That terrible day that Buddy cracked his jaw and scared us all so much and the day we took him home to retire forever.
Through it all, the new arrivals and the goodbyes, the births and the impossible farewells, the championships, trophies and first places and the crushing and devastating defeats, I wouldn't trade one moment of this crazy horse life. I wouldn't trade the friends I've made, the lessons I've learned or the dollars I've spent. In my heart and in my soul there are horses. And only you other horse crazy folks will be able to relate.
No comments:
Post a Comment