And along came winter...

It was a crazy fall.  I'm not entirely sure where it went. Winterized the yard (mostly.  Some of the garden got left as my pitchfork broke and things were crazy and I couldn't get a new one to finish), spent 3 weeks farm sitting 80 head of sheep, 5 horses, 12 dogs, and.....an unknown number of cats and fish.  Work, starting to work with my new young horse, and everything else just made time slip away.

I'm home for Christmas now.  The new young horse, the racetrack-reject now has a barn name.  It's Rascal.  It suits his dorky personality to a capital T.  He's a pretty cool cucumber, and a rockstar to ride.  He has his problems, and he is so definitely a YOUNG HORSE, but he is talented, athletic, and has so much push and power that I hurt after every ride.  Apparently not riding for 9 months does bad things to your core muscles.  Hmmmmmmmm.  I have also managed to catch up on quite a few projects.  I have two more to get caught up on, and then life settles down.

As the new year is rapidly approaching, and I cannot wait for it to be here, I've been setting goals and plans into motion.

1)  Get fit. Riding-fit, and overall fit.  I've joined a Zumba class and a low-glycemic group in attempts to increase my non-existent energy levels, and get back into the fitness level I was in when I was riding six days a week.  

2) Ride Rascal 3-5 times a week.  Aiming for 4.  2 of these will be lessons on Tuesday and Friday evenings.  The other two rides with be weekend, and maybe a weeknight.   Starting immediately upon my return from "homeforchristmas" I want to put this in action, as there is a clinic at the end of January that I want to take him to, and it would be nice if we could go and exhibit a sane right lead canter, versus the mechanically failing steering and brakes (and gas pedal stuck open!) we currently tend to have.  :)

3) Walk the dogs every am, as well as the dog park trip after work.

4) Try not to get in over my head again.  This one will be near impossible to do.

5) Lex needs to start on sheep for real.  She's got so much raw talent and potential that it would be a shame to waste it.  I've no illusions of turning her into a winning trial dog - she has it all, but my utter lack of knowledge and experience WILL be our downfall.  Well, her downfall.  But hopefully I an at least get her to a point where I can trial her, arena for sure, maybe field if we're lucky.

6) I do need, at some point, to re-evaluate my life and where it's taking me.  A move to a new location, changes to my horse situation, something.

Overall, I guess the resolutions are for physical and psychological health, and getting back to a state of well being where I can function.  The last year has been a horrible, rough, heartbreaking year for myself and almost everyone I know.  And it would be a lie to say it hasn't taken a huge, terrible toll.  The physical exhaustion and strain is phenomenal. But I've kept putting one foot forward, and then the next, and then the next....  and now it's time for that huge giant step, to right as much as I can.

Sunk.

I'm sunk.  I just know it!

This foolish grin just plain will NOT be wiped from my face.  I just can't help myself. 

This horse, well, he is going to be my savior, and my downfall.

After a trip home for the long weekend, in which Lex exhausted herself chasing bugs, and I enjoyed visits with friends, a typically horrid but hilarious golf game with my mom, and chilling by the fire pit while Lex chased bugs (Weirdo.), I made it out to the barn last night.

Took Lex with me, as I had to video a couple horses and wanted to fit in running her wherever time allowed.  Since the arena was quiet, we got to video'ing almost right away, but first I brought my new guy in.  Brushed him, cleaned up him, and left him chilling in the barn aisle until someone was in the arena. 

He's surprisingly chilled out to tie.  Just hangs out.  No pawing, no fussing, no impatience.  No halter-pulling!  I love this.  He watched with interest, but no real fear, when the quad with hay wagon was driving right up beside him.  He chilled.  He played with the horse in the stall he was tied to.  He chilled some more.  I fell a little bit more in love.  I'm so easy!

We did the first horse, and then while J warmed up the 2nd, I brought him into the arena.  And then, per R's suggestion, I brought Lex in as well as began enforcing an offleash down-stay with livestock/activity.  She's got it at home.  She's got it at the dog park.  (could be cause she wants the frisbee!).  But she can be such a moron when there are distractions.  And I need her more solid around stock, and more solid around activity, and she isn't going to get there by being continually tied to my waist. 

In November, when I take care of my friend's place, I need to not have to worry about her chasing the horses, and getting kicked.  Or raising a ruckus around the sheep. 

So, brought her in, tied a long line to her, and down-stayed her. Went to work my horse.  She came darting in to help.  She's worse about chasing horses if I'm near them - she is intimidated by them and really goes into "protect" mode.  Dropped the horse as he kicked at her for biting at his heels, and let him bugger off while I caught her.  Of course, because my luck is such, the long-lead came undone.  A bit more force to the down stay, and then I added the precaution of tying the long lead to the door.

Then, my poor, traumatized horsey, who watched me catch my dog and cart her back to her "spot" to lie down, figured that if I was that nasty when I was mad, he didn't want to have anything to do with me! 

Walked him down, caught him, rubbed his forehead (he loves this), and taught him to lunge.  It was so easy. He was so easy.  I'd forgotten what sensitive, heart-filled OTTB's were like... He's all try.  He's so sensitive to body language and pressure that it is easy to get him going where I wanted him.   Played with him for a while - it was not without bumps in the road, but he was pretty good and full of try.  And pretty sure that the muck buckets in the corner, the tarp I had down along the wall, and the tractor in the corner, among other things, were totally going to eat his poor self!  He was beside himself with worry about that, but still tried. 

After we finished photographing the 2nd horse, J did take him and sack him out a bit with the rope - tossing it over his back and just in general working to convince him that he doesn't need to be quite so reactive to stuff.  Typical TB.  He got a clue very easily, with next to no fuss. 

The consensus on him is that I am going to have a lot of fun with him this winter, and that he's got a great attitude/mind, and is a "good horse." 

I, of course, just adore him plain and simple.  I love his heart.  I love his try.   I love his mind and his cheekiness and his attitude.  And I absolutely cannot WAIT to get on him and go for a spin! 

I'd forgotten, truly. Somewhere in the mess of lameness issues with Poly, I'd forgotten how truly well I mesh with TB's, and what a joy their workaholic, sensitive, heart-filled natures are to be around.  And somewhere in the last nine months (it'll be nine months to the day that I lost Sprout, tomorrow), I'd forgotten how much I love being in the arena with a horse, cultivating a partnership.  I'd forgotten the peace, the unadulturated happy, and the sheer excitement of a night where potential is tapped.

More and more, I think I found this horse for a reason.  I'm walking on air, and exhausted because, naturally, I was too excited to sleep last night!

I just wanna hug him.  Oooooh, I'm excited for fall/winter!

And Lex?  I haven't forgotten about her.  She down-stayed very well the entire time, after our first little set to.  She didn't lunge at the horses and R and J rode them past her, and she ignored me with a horse. Although she perked up and was much more watchful while I cooled out J's horse while she worked with my guy.  She did get up and dig a bit at one point, but I growled "DOWN" from the other end of the arena, took two threatening steps forward, and she dropped.  Good puppy.   

I've been given the opportunity to bring her all the time.  Leave her loose.  Down her while I tack.  Let her be loose and with me and step up the obedience so that at the end of the day, I have a GOOD dog instead of a monster :) 

She's pretty good, she really is.  I try not to dwell on the problem areas, because I have a tendancy to get down about things and decide I'm doing a horrible job with her, when the truth is, she's a gutsy, head-strong pup with TONS of jam, and she's my first dog: It's a huge learning curve for me, too!  So I Try to be happy with what I have, but I'm excited to have the opportunity to step things up and really get her backed off horses, etc. 

Of course, she came home and immediately started barking at invisible monsters again.  I rolled my eyes, pointed to her crate, and she slunk in.  Eventually, 15 min crate time outs will hopefully cure her of this little game.  Lol!

Ahh, still grinning like an idiot.  There's just something about this horse that does happy things to me.  He's a total ray of sunshine and he has brightened up my life considerably.  It's a wonderful feeling.

Now, if only I could find a barn name for the poor guy, so I can quit calling him "the horse" and "the OTTB" and "horsey".  :)

Why I should not be allowed near racehorses unsupervised...

I saw this:

My heart sang.

I got offered a deal I couldn't pass up.

I had a friend who spent years on the track come ride him and make sure he was ok and suitable.

When she called out, after a brief canter, "He's quite lovely", I knew I was sunk.

He came home yesterday!!!!!!!!!!

Paddy's Road.  2008 (3yo) Gelding, Lenado Road X Paddy Astaire, 16h, gorgeous mover, fancy boy, sweet, dorky, goofy personality, good mind, balanced gaits, and just. plain. MINE.  No barn name, but he'll tell me what he wants to be called as I get to know him, I'm sure.   I'm leaning towards something handsome but dorky - something that'll make me smile, and keep him a nice, cheeky goofball for the next 20 years.

I couldn't get rid of the shit-eating grin :D

above: torturing the guy in the stall. Lol

Yup.  Definitely not allowed to visit racehorses unsupervised.  

But darnit, this is the first time I've been excited about horses since losing my boys ....  and the warmblood's attitude about life sucks...and he's too immature to start.. so now I have one that tugs my heart, and will maybe get me interested in DOING again. 

Plus he needed a home.

Plus, he's terribly dorky and cute.

Plus... I think he'll fill a very big hole.

And he reminds me of Sprout. 

A lot, actually.

I made him his own blog, where in his own voice he can discuss the trials and tribulations of his transition from fired racehorse to his new career.  Just for fun.  couldabeenaracehorse.blogspot.com

Thoroughbreds...

Client came into the office today.  As soon as I greeted him, he goes. "I have a horse for YOU."

"Big, Bay, and Free?" I say.

"Big and bay."   He confirms.

"And free?"

"Sorry, my hearing's not all that good."  He says.  Hahaha.

But, oddly, he really does have at least one, if not two or three geldings he thinks I'd love.  We've had this go round before, back when I still had Poly and Sprout and most assuredly was NOT looking for another horse.  I'm still not looking - my heart doesn't want another one, nor does my bank account.  One (Crockett) is enough.  But.......  I have this huge weakness for Thoroughbreds.

Plus, it turns out that he is liquidating 95% of his stock. The racing industry is absolute crap here in AB, and, well, he just can't do it anymore.  And, of course, he has a couple earmarked for me.  He told me to bring my saddle, try em out.  Yikes!

So.... On Saturday, I am off to check out and photograph and hopefully help re-home 25 or so thoroughbreds.  They're a pet project of mine, I truly believe that despite the popularity of warmbloods, the movement, etc...  that thoroughbreds are truly the most amazing of all horses.  Yes - that's my opinion, but I absolutely adore them.  And if I can help spread the word and rehome some, that would be great.  Because while I have some issues with ethics, one thing about this guy is he truly does give a manure-pile about his horses, and he is not going to ship them unless he has absolutely NO other option.

But...scarily, I think I could nab one.  And I don't really want another horse, yet.  And Crockett needs to be broke, still.. but not having my own to ride makes me really NOT want to ride... so who knows.  If I love one, well....  I can't be responsible for my actions.  But I'll think long and hard, I think, because after the soundness nightmares I had with my last off-the-track project, I don't know if I want to go through it again.   It's just that TB's are my achille's heel.  I can't help but get sucked into NEEDING one.

The thing is, though....if I help move the others, I might just get away with "free" afterall...

And then I have to board it.  Fine - it can go to the barn, since Crockett's at my friends, and they can swap afterwards.   But THEN... that cuts into Crockett's training credit that I'm working off....

Lots to think about..

but I'm tired of riding someone else's horse (especially now that they're using him in the occasional lesson and he's a jerk afterwards).  And... a project.. and a TB...

Lots to think about.

And stress about.

But hopefully we can rehome them all.

Such amazing athletes, the thoroughbred racehorse.

Living with a Superstar

...Or... at least, a dog who THINKS she's a superstar.

So the last week or so has been highly eventful in Lex's life.  Last Thursday, we went to my friend's to play with sheep.  The most I've done with her for a while - all summer, really - is walk through the flock and call her off - like, no, you can't mess with them unless you're told to.

Thursday, we (on leash) peeled some sheep out from the lambing area upstairs in the barn, I let her "drive" (use the term loosely - basically they ran, she ran behind, I followed further behind) them out of the barn, and then let her mess around trying to get them out of the shelter area they wedged themselves in.  She was pretty good at bringing a group out and then leaving them alone - going back for more.  But it was wholly unproductive so I walked away and called her with me before she got frustrated at what was realistically a lack of success.  But I was kind of impressed because she thought about what she was doing and seemed to know that her job was to get the sheep outta there.

Excuse me.  Must go rescue my bathmat.

Ok.  I'm not sure why, but she's horribly fascinated with the bathroom.

So after that, while friend was practicing for the demo with her dogs, we took the opportunity to cut Lex loose on, oh, approx 40 lambs (March babies) out in the middle of the pasture.  It was actually surprisingly well.  Was she too close? Absolutely. And she'd sometimes cut in when we changed direction.  But we ran with her, the lambs actually pretty well stayed stationary, and at the end, I walked away and called her off and - lo and behold - she called off.  So I was pretty pleased!  I have no earthly idea what I'm doing, but hey - that's what friend is for :)

Then, Friday we played frisbee at the barn, and then wandered the property "Off leash" (Trailing leash behind, so I could grab when necessary) and working on our obedience.  The nice thing about being the office person is I can have the odd perk, like that ;-)

Saturday, we tagged along with my friend to the local rodeo grounds, where she was doing a stock dog demo.  Lex and I went to watch.  Friend's husband was announcing for her.  So they go through her four dogs, and then the husband - lord love him - calls LEX in.  He cited the "unbridled enthusiasm" a young talented pup displays.

Well, she displayed enthusiasm, alright.

Not much control, but a lot of enthusiasm.

A LOT of enthusiasm.

Incidentally (Or, maybe, CO-incidentally), the sheep also displayed a lot of enthusiasm.  

They were nice big suffolk, whom we deemed "fence-proof", as the finns my friend breeds would have happily fit UNDER the fencing in the arena we used.  The Suffolk, not so much.  This was a good thing, with Lex at the helm.  It was also good that, while enthusiastic, the sheep were pretty good about NOT mowing people down. People being friend and I, of course.

She had a blast.  The crowd loved her.

Friend and I, on the other hand..raced around trying to keep her out, on footing that would break a horse's leg it was so pot-holed, and then somehow I lucked out and managed to, I have no idea how, get between Lex and the sheep.  Got a FABULOUS lie down.

Score!

Happy with that.  Lex went back on leash.  Lex how has a huge complex, figures she's a "Superstar" with her own "Fan Club" and everything.

What she really is is "Super-Psycho" with an overblown "Ego" ;-)

But I love her.

Super-Duty Border-Collie, a versatile employee...

Lex helped me shell peas on Sunday.

I had picked them, came back in, let her out of her crate and settled into the best-chair-ever with a bowl of pods to shell.  The job went something like this:

Lindsay:  Grab pod
Lindsay: Shell out peas into bowl
Lindsay: Toss empty pod into bucket at foot of chair.

Lex: Pick pod up out of bucket
Lex:  Take pod across the living room
Lex: Drop empty pod in random location.  Maybe chew on it a bit before going back for another.

Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.

Apparently, she is indispensible.  I could not have shelled the peas without her.

Forgive the crappy pictures

Best help ever! 

(Whatever, Lex.  I think I need to teach you to clean up your own messes.)

Nah.  That's the mom's job.

(Whatever, Lex...)

Hey, I have fans now.  Remember the demo?

(I remember.  That was wacked.)

I was the best.  I have fans.

(More on that later.  And she was the best at being the entertainment, not at demonstrating proper sheep dog tactics.  :-) )

Bubble Brain

Paint horse was a bubble brain when I got on him tonight.  Not sure if it's cause he was used in a lesson yesterday, or because he spent a day in a tie stall, or if it was just a "white brain" blip (darned paints!), but he definitely started out a twit, leaping tarps, spooking at light beams, the corner, kids, the door, a bottle on the ground....yeah... as if he hasn't been broke for over a year now.  He's such a dumbass (And I say that with great affection), sometimes.   Then, he was much more resistant/heavy than usual.

But there were only two of us in the lesson, so we worked on supple-ing exercises and it really came along well... once he remembered that he did not have a 4x4 of steel implanted all the way down his neck.   Overall, a good ride.  It was exactly what he needed... a lot of the crap he was dishing out at the beginning of the ride magically disappeared.

Left him in overnight, since it forces me to go out tomorrow and ride him again.  Maybe I'll find a way to schedule things so I actually start riding regularly.  Hmmmm...

Of course, the only problem with that is somewhere along the way, I wound up LIKING the paint horse.   So much so that it's almost too bad I can't deal his owner out of him.  That was certainly not part of the plan.  Ah well.  

Kind of looking forward to riding tomorrow.  Maybe I'll try and finangle a second horse to ride, too.

And at some point... I will need to get some pictures...

Leave It...

Lex needs a Leave It.  She needs it NOW.  I need to figure out how to put a Leave It On her.  ASAP.  Or I might just kill her. 

Well, not really, but somedays it's a really good thing that at the end of the day, I see humor!

And it really needs to quit raining already. 

Just sayin'.....

Sixes and Sevens...

I am at work.  I should be working.  But as I went to date my first working paper of the day, I realized ... It's the 20th. And tomorrow, the 21st, makes Seven years since I stood in the trailer with Singapore's head in my arms, his right front leg danging irreparably.   I still remember...  But it's not as poignant. 

As time went on after that, I saw the things that would have happened had I not lost Singapore that night.  I wouldn't have met G &R.  Wouldn't have tried to buy Woody.  Wouldn't have been talked out of it - by them.  Wouldn't have gone looking for another thoroughbred.  Wouldn't have pulled Poly off the track a short race before he was destined for a career in an Alpo can.  Wouldn't have seen Sprout in that  corral of weanlings.  Would have never owned the horses that in turn owned my heart, and my soul.

Until six months ago...

Six months ago today, at this time in the morning, I was sitting at home with my stomach twisted up around my ankles, trying to convince myself - again and again - that I was doing the right thing.  That I was strong enough to take those last few steps down the path that lost me the 3 things I loved most, outside of my family, in the span of 15 measly days.  In a couple short hours from now, it'll have been six months since I stood in the tack room grasping at straws.  He could stand on the leg - even long enough for his shoes to be pulled - maybe things weren't as they seemed? 
But they were, and shortly after found me standing out in minus-bloody-freezing (-20C or so) next to a suspicious, Sprout-shaped snowcovered mound, my 16.3hh sedated thoroughbred's head shoved thoroughly in my stomach (Apparently, humans are meant to double as a pillow), waiting for the vet to walk out with the final needle.  A few long minutes later - not quite the longest in my life, but close - I was salvaging Poly's few remaining tail hairs (the rest having been sacrificed to Border-Collie-Entertainment, because tails are great for swinging off of) and some mane to make up for the lack of tail... and walking away from 5 years of simultaneous joy and heartbreak.

Today there's still grief... and guilt... Guilt for making the decision, and guilt for the relief of not having to wonder - is he in one piece today?  In some ways, he had more lives than a cat.  There was some truth to my running joke that he was "Chronically lame, but never in the same place twice."  And in some ways, spending those 10 days wrapped up in Poly made the first few days after Sprout marginally easier to get through, because I had something else to focus on.  

And Sprout, well, I didn't miss the 9th.  God forbid I get the relief of not noticing that date.  I was cleaning my desk that day, and found a big stack of pictures from last years horse shows, stuffed under a pile of paperwork.   That was enough to bring on waterworks.  There are some great pictures in there.  Nothing fancy, nothing wow... but a photographic diary of his training progression through the show season.  I dearly regret not getting some really good pictures of he and I done last summer... but in truth... when you're sitting on a 5 year old horse... you've no reason to think you don't have years ahead of you.  And I didn't think, because he SHOULD HAVE had years ahead of him.  I was so looking forward to getting us going over fences, enhancing the flatwork, and he was well on his way to being a fabulous all around horse.  Hell, he WAS A fabulous all around horse.  

The things I remember crowd my mind, sometimes...

Poly, stepping off the trailer from the track... leading him through the arena to the barn... the instant realization that "he's perfect."

Cantering him...5 days after I got him off the track... in a group of horses... and Poly's decision that "Cantering's work. I'm gonna trot now..." (Yes, yes, this is why he did not make the cut as a racehorse. All Speed, All Talent, No Desire)

Baby, Runty little horse with star and snip, standing in corral of weanlings, million times shorter than anyone else, and the sudden "I want" factor.  Yes, that is the runt that became Sprout.

First touching Sprout, sliding a halter on his head in the chute ...  Wheeling him in on the shank, patting him for real...

Poly's first trail ride.

Poly's first attempt at walking through a tree.  That singular event turned him into the equine bulldozer. "If I can't go under it, I can go through it!".  Caused a few near misses for his rider, and plenty of entertainment.

Teaching Sprout to lead.  Picking up his feet for the first time (in a box stall.).  How quickly he came to like people.  He was a quintessential "people person."

Poly's big fat knee.  And how rich I'd be, had I bought stock in Penicillin and Sulfa before then... 

Poly, falling on the ice on a trail ride.  Valentines day 2005.  Scary.  My knee's never quite been the same.

Poly's rearing stage.  Discovered that getting mad, jumping off, and kicking your horse whilst dragging after him by the rein across the yard really does sometimes fix things.  Sometimes.  Not usually. But Sometimes.

Trail riding alone, only Poly and I in the middle of a deer trail in the middle of the bush.... getting the tree caught under my leg...flanking him before my foot wound up underneath his tail...  Poly's disgust that I was hanging off his side with my foot under his tail... as he just continued to walk along.  Later, bouncing in place because his back feet were caught up in underbrush...  That was probably our most entertaining ride.

My first ride on Sprout.  G stopping him in the muskegy willow swales, looking back at me (on Cruise) and asking if I wanted to try him.  A 5 minute trot, weaving through the willow swales.  His 8th ride. 

My first REAL ride on Sprout - our Christmas Morning trail ride.  Better than presents.   We survived the grouse popping out of the snow.

Walk-canter transitions on Poly.  That was a great summer.

Sprout's first show.  Peace River.  He totally freaked when he smelled the sheep from his stall while the stock dog trials were going on.  But otherwise, he was a star - for a greenie :)

So many nights at the barn with Poly... frustrating, joyful, and everything in between.  Finally getting our shit together.

Poly's plight with White Line.  Heartbreak and tears.  And he used yet another of his nine lives.  That was the end of his right front foot, though.

Giving up on ever having him consistently sound and rideable, "retiring" my eight year old horse to a friend's pasture, and bringing Sprout down to start on him. 

Getting stuck in a snow drift on a big hill in the hay field.  Good on Sprout for getting us out of that pickle.  The snow in his ears from being sunk headlong in the drift was the most entertaining part.  That and having no horse in front of me. Head and neck, Poof!

Falling off Sprout and landing on my head walking through the yard after a great trail ride.  And that's what happens when both horse and rider are in la-la land. 

SPROUT: A summer of hard work, sweat, a few tears, frustrations, and even exhileration.  The magical disappearance of canter leads, first the left.... then the right.... then the left again.  Then... we got it together.   Steady progression and progress. 

My stupid braindead moment... cutting into the tackroom behind Sprout..startling him...the dent that's still in my leg.

His first red (first in Canada), 3 days later, my left leg rather useless... in a class of 19 horses, under a respected judge. 

Overall High point at our last show.  Ending the show season with a HUGE bang.

...cantering over tarps... working through trail equipment ... the tipping bridge... a lot of memories.  Bittersweet, now.

Walking him around the arena...past the tractor... thinking that it felt like we were walking the green mile.......

..... I found out... in short order... that we were.  Damned colic.

He was supposed to be with me for another 20 years.

Halt-canter transitions on Sprout.  Trail rides, cow-chasing, barrel jumping .... 

...Cutting Poly loose into a rolling gallop out in the strips in the back of the cow pastures back home...  each stride doubling in speed and distance,  until the trees were nothing but a blur, blinded by eyes tearing in the wind he created.  Power, grace... and a rapidly approaching fence.  Thank God for BRAKES!

I'd give anything in the world to head out to the barn tonight, give Poly a hug, and jump on Sprout for a ride.

And today, I woke up really missing them.  Both my boys.  All 3, really, but mostly, Poly and Sprout.  Mostly, Sprout - because he was my future.  I had them both for five years, almost to the day.   In five years, I'll probably still miss them.  Hell, probably even in 10 years. 

Maybe writing about it is therapeudic.  Maybe not.  I guess we'll see.

Teeming with Maggots...

So... I have to say, I have never quite understood the meaning of the term "teeming with maggots".  I get it now.

This is not, perhaps, the best content with which to start out this blogging experiment... but then again, given that I am a born and raised country girl, living the lifestyle despite her residence in "Urbania," with the company of her sheep chasing, horse terrorizing, cat demonizing farm dog, perhaps it is the perfect content.  But I would like to disclaim that this is not going to be typical content.

DISCLAIMER: Generally, blog will feature much more normal content! Sheep and dogs and...horses... and... weird stuff we do.  Not generally disgusting.  Promise!

DISCLAIMER 2: Kind of disgusting, farm related content coming right up.  Because only on a farm.......

Tonight, after our agility class (Perhaps I'll blog about it tomorrow), I headed to the barn to drop off my camera so J can video two sale horses schooling rounds at Whitemud (Oddly, I'm going to try and get the afternoon off to go with. Save us some extra video/pictures at home if I can go too).

I left straight from class, and brought Lex along.  Rather than leave her in the car... I brought her in.  Given that there was a lesson in progress, I felt it wise to borrow one of the resident dog's crates and stuff her in there before heading to the arena, rather than have non-resident dog flaunted to all boarders/lessoners.

So I stuff Lex in - literally.  She whined, and then howled, which is abnormal for her, but I figured she was just being clingy - because she gets like that sometimes.  Then she was quiet.  All seemed good.  I head to arena.

40 or so minutes later, I'm ready to collect my dawg and head for home.  I open crate.  Dog rocket-launches at me faster than a speeding bullet.  I stuff her back in her collar, and wonder at that odd smell coming from her.  "Lex, did you do something bad in Doodles' crate?"

It should be note that she has never,  not once,  pooped in a crate.  So I wasn't too concerned, but was curious about the oddity that was her scent.  I looked in the crate and peered closely at an abnormality.  Poo?  Nope, doesn't really look like poo... It looks like... Ruh Roh.

I call J over - hey, looks like there's something dead in here!   She looks in... Yup, something dead alright.

Five or so days ago, R's teenage boys were out shooting gophers.  Doodles enjoys retrieving, despite being a herding breed, NOT a retrieving breed...and she kept a treasure sequestered carefully in her crate.  Unknown to us hapless human-folk, of course.

And I, being fairly moronic at times, figured I should see just. how. bad. my dog smelled.  So I stuff my nose in her fur.  Somehow my stomach stayed where it belonged, but it took work.  I won't be doing that again.

And all I can say there, is Thanks God for wash racks.  They are not just useful for hosing off a hot, sweaty horse, or bathing muddy ones.  They are equally useful for bathing rotting-gopher smell out of dogs.   Lex was thoroughly unimpressed, and I was just thrilled that, hopefully, when she dried she'd smell like dog and shampoo instead of something a dog drug in.   But truly, my dog was clean(ish), she wasn't going to bring her "the rotting dead" smell into my car, and I was happy again.

At least for five or so minutes.... See...after all this, J disposed of the gopher, and the blanket in the crate...and I helped her take it apart so she could rinse it...and for some reason it never crossed my mind prior to this vision, but it was CRAWLING with maggots.  Teeming.  It was TEEMING with maggots.  Yup, I get it now.  My skin is still crawling.  We rinsed, bleached, and left the crate to soak in bleach and virkon overnight.  Doodles got a bath too.  Lex, well, is lucky she didn't get two more.  And I will never forget that 5-days-dead = definitely maggots.

I guess I should brush her out - a third time - and then  triple check her - a third time - for maggots before we go to bed.  Ohhh, YUCK. My psyche can't take this!  I am very hard to gross out.  I was marginally grossed out before the maggots.

And this, I suppose, is the end of the first seven months with Lex, and the beginning of the next 10 or so odd years (or more, hopefully more!) of what I think perhaps I will call: Life with Lex.