It’s been a while since Reggie and I visited the blog. That’s because we have been working hard, thinking loads and trying so hard to learn. So much so that forming words in order to share has been effort beyond my energy and his digital capability.
First things first.
Reggie is well and our work rate is increasing. We’ve had a lot of discussion about that him and I. He’s proven highly adept at mounting pallid protests when faced with the prospect of hard work. I empathise to be honest. The protests are reminiscent of a child being asked to write a story and telling you they can’t because their finger, perfectly functional when they were grabbing for seconds at lunch, now apparently needs major surgery. I am minded to buy him a baseball cap and put it on him back to front as we head to the mounting block and he yells “I caaaaaant, I caaaaaant, my legs have stopped going”. I should just say, “Oh, get on with it”. Instead in find myself cajoling the 750kg infant as though the mounting block was a tiger that’s been forced to attend weight watchers and could “eat a horse”.
I was gently reminded this week it will take a year for us to get to know each other properly and that every conversation is part of that and so we natter and think and natter and try to work each other out. It’s hard going, made harder by how green I am and his youth. He is more malleable than Mila and Marley so the pressure to get it right feels greater. I have real difficulty with projecting enough energy for him to hear me clearly. I need to appear to him as though I have some energy, to be less knackered and less soggy tissue. I practice a lot. The psychometrics indicate I am still more soggy tissue than fireball but I am working on it and presenting like an unhinged pendulum in the interim.
Yesterday a horse magazine I never asked for nor, as it turns out, wanted plopped through my letter box. I think the insurers sent it. It might as well be written in French for all it means to me and hence proffers itself as a “look how much you don’t know about horses” poster. It seems really important to win stuff (according to the magazine). We are no where near competing in anything structured instead each day we compete with yesterday. Sometimes we win and nearly always leave the competition with something new to learn. Still despite the absence of rosettes we move forward slowly and gently and each small triumph feels Olympian to us. They are just not enough to qualify for public celebration, so we do it quietly.
Here’s a few - non public celebrations made public, with total humility:
We’ve been out in the trailer. Coming home involved a 30 minute wait whilst Reggie surveyed the scenery with two front feet on the ramp. In the absence of a second handler all I could do was wait him out whilst he pretended he didn’t know what I wanted. As the timer passed the 30 minute mark he announced “well that was fun”, and just walked on.
We’d had some issues out hacking. To be honest I think they were an extension to the “my fingers broke, I can’t write” approach to equine effort. “Thanks for the hack, but I’ve had enough of it now so I will just stand here and you can sing, dance and tantrum up there if you want, I will just park here, mind my own business, and sing .......la la la”. If we get out at a pace and keep the pace up Reggie forgets how much he enjoys looking at scenery and he keeps on moving, a bit like a tank on steroids.
He pretends (or believes) parts of the outdoor school are scary. He can't make his mind up. "It’s the corners, it's the poles, it's something to do with the colour of the floor". We are learning to work into the scary bits on the basis that foam, whatever colour, doesn’t bite.
He’s standing at the block long enough for me to get on and find second stirrup without a cavalry to help me.
We’ve found a really neat gadget that allows me to administer warm water to the mud baths that he takes overnight thus avoiding the tap dancing that accompanies the appearance of a hose.
We’ve started some groundwork lessons and “on Board” lessons are pending.
So, we are not ready for Badminton yet and until there are rosettes for “getting on and getting on with it” we remain well out of any and all competitions and placings. Despite that we are well, happy and learning to talk to each other.
Our days are full of love and frequent bouts of elation as we learn to crack the small things. We don’t mind the absence of rosettes. He offers me a daily physical reminder that health (mind and body) matter most and I try to offer him a steady presence, consistency and my total appreciation for his kindness, efforts to learn and willingness to forgive me whilst I do too.
Today’s “conversation” is yet to be digested because sure as eggs is eggs he’s gonna ask if I did my homework when I see him tomorrow.
It goes:
Me: “So, the nice groundwork lady says I have to teach you to move your bum round and cross your back legs. remember?”.
Him: “Yep, you made me practice it yesterday and the day before. Of course I remember”.
Me “Ok so I have to hold the rope like this”.
Him: “Yep yep yep, got it, you are gonna ask me to do this aren’t you, look, I am doing it, you don’t need to ask”.
Me: “Hmmm, you are supposed to wait for me to ask and it’s meant to be relaxed and not like your back end is jet propelled”.
All “next step” suggestions gratefully received. I asked him, in my human voice, to try not to preempt me. I don’t think he understood.
Many people have pitched their wits at helping us to help ourselves and start moving forward, too many to name. You’ll each recognise your influence in the blog and hopefully in each of the small wins. If this was an Oscars speech I would be saying “I couldn’t have done it without you”. It’s not an Oscars speech though which makes that observation less rhetorical and more real.
We couldn’t have won any life rosettes without help and so I write this for those who have helped as an act of acknowledgement and thanks. I am as confident and assured as a soggy tissue can be that you can and will find yourself in what I have written. X
