I was so excited yesterday! Mike had the day off for Labor Day (yay!). Since my weekend riding plans had been shot in the foot by a trip to camp (which was a blast) and then Mike working the fair from 10-10, I was excited to take full advantage of his parenting abilities and go ride the Mare.
Then we pulled in, I put her halter on and gave her the once over like I always do (because I’m paranoid)… her left hock was larger than the right.
^*#($&%#(@&@#)%#)%($*#& and @(*#%*@(%&#$(%&#(@
So I threw my hands up in the air, gave her a bubble bath (after which is promptly rolled in the dirt), cold hosed the stupid joint, and had Mike jog her (not only can he parent like a boss, but he’s a great jogger!). She wasn’t lame, but she wasn’t quite right either.
I made a plan with B, and choked back the frustrated tears. I also didn’t hit anything, which is a personal best.
Yet another set back. How many does this make now? I’m losing track, honestly.
It seems like all my attempts to get this mare to a place where I can ride her without constant supervision are being promptly thwarted by the horsey Gods. Or Karma (I’ve about had enough of you, lady!).
I’m seriously bumming over the whole thing. Fall (and winter which = The Big Move. TBM = LOTS of time lost with Willow) is fast approaching and I feel like time is ticking away. She’s also 8 now. Tick. Tick. Tick.
So. She’ll have another week off and I’ll try again.
It’s a good thing she’s puuurty, because she does a great job as a pasture puff.