Thursday, March 19, 2009

Racin' Dirty!

Here is a surprise for my blog readers:

Cindirelli is racing tomorrow at Turfway Park.

Here is the entry:

Turfway Park - March 20th, 2009 - Race 1
Estimated Local Post Time: 5:30 PM
Race Type: Claiming
Breed: Thoroughbred
Age Restriction: Three Year Old and Upward
Sex: Fillies and Mares
Purse: $7,600
Distance: One Mile
Surface: All Weather Track
Post Horse
Jockey
Owner
Age Sex Weight
Trainer
Breeder
Odds Claiming Price
1
Include the Lady (KY)
Alberto Pusac
Billy D. Allen, et al.
4 Filly 118
Billy D. Allen
Brereton C. Jones
5/2 $7,500
2
Runnin Dirty (FL)
Dean Mernagh
Shirley Ann Kimball
5 Mare 118
Tres J. Delaforce
Pennston Farms Inc.
15/1 $7,500
3
Drew'sgetleagle (KY)
Leandro R. Goncalves
DJC Stable (Rolanda Simpson)
4 Filly 118
Rolanda Simpson
John D. Murphy
3/1 $7,500
4
Lil Miss Blurr (KY)
Rodney A. Prescott
Mike Clark
6 Mare 118
Helmut S. Jackson
Equus Farm
10/1 $7,500
5
Chasing Liberty (IN)
Jose Luis Calo
Edward L. Roettinger
6 Mare 118
Danny D. Lang
Ron Dafler
7/2 $7,500
6
Hollywood Beauty (KY)
John McKee
Bernard G. Schaeffer
4 Filly 115
William R. Connelly
Benjamin W. Berger
2/1 $7,500

This is another one of those nerve wrecking moments for me- I won't get much sleep tonight, so I've already helped myself to plenty of Benadryl.

It's only a 6 horse field. This is a good thing. We drew the 2 hole, which is also a good thing because according to a little research the horse in the 1 hole never breaks well, giving our girl direct access to the rail. Cindirelli likes to go to the front - I know, I know, another one of those! But, we shall see how things go.
She is in great shape for a race. She's sound and ready.
She's actually so ready that since her last work on Monday, every time I tack her up to go to the track just to train, she gets so excited, she starts a-shaking and a-jumping, pressing against me, being impatient. Subsequently, on the track, she fights Cowboy all the way through her exercise with shaking her head, which he has a firm hold of, to try and get loose so she can run full tilt again (which she isn't supposed to).

I know once I hand her off to the pony heading to the gate, my usual mantra will probably pop back out of my mouth without my realizing it and it is my first and foremost concern, always:

"Safe and sound, safe and sound, safe and sound..."

If this girl still has the physical ability to race, she'll do very well.

We are, as usual, the long shot in the race.

Dean Mernagh - her jockey is a good jockey with riding experience in Hong Kong (or was it Japan?) and Dubai. He's been trying to get his foot in the door over here this year and I've been watching him. He listens to instructions and every time I have seen him on a horse, the horse performed better than expected.

Me? I'll be a nervous wreck, of course. Probably a good idea for me to take a 5th of vodka with me for calming purposes. No point in having her come in the winner's circle and the trainer is in the ambulance with a heart attack.

Race goes off at 5:30 pm EST, should be on either racing channel- HRTV or TVG.

Pray for us tonight- so our girl will have a safe and successful race.

May the racing gods be with us tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Canta-Loopy

I meant to post this days ago. But I was pooped.
The last few days have been bone wearing. The weather improved a great deal, we actually had a near record high of 80 degrees yesterday. Today we are back to a high in the 40's and the low tonight is freezing.

There are 7 (yes, seven) horses in my barn at this point. Only 5 of them are "mine". The other two belong to a friend who was in a bind and decided to deposit them next to my horses so that I could help him out. Helping out.. well, don't get me started. Food for another post.

Of the five I have, 1.5 are mine. Doodle, of course, is my boy. The other 0.5 is actually not REALLY half mine but the arrangement I have with her owner is a 50/50 split.

Loopy (Trickle Me Good) was turned out for a long sabbatical due to a stress fracture in her pelvis, which I, unfortunately, claimed her with from another trainer. Oh joy.

So Loopy went home to her new mom and dad for a while. She led the life of leisure.
Loopy came back last Thursday.

When I claimed this filly, she was a total nut. A sort of dangerous total nut. My brother in law, who gallops for me when he is in KY, had helped me out that day I claimed her. Since she was such a nut, after we got her bathed, walked and put away, he closed the stall door, shook his head and while walking away, mumbled "Loopy".

It stuck. Loopy she was from that moment on.

It didn't take much for the Loopster to realize she didn't have to be a nut around us. It only took a couple of weeks before she completely changed her ways. Just today, when I went to get her from the swing stall, I forgot to bring the shank or even a leadrope with me. I was too lazy to want to walk all the way back to the tackroom, so I thought, what the hell- I can just grab her by the halter and we should be fine.
And she was. Just fine. No fuss, no fight. She's a good girl.

Since Loopy arrived looking like a Yeti (she had close to 3 inch long fur on certain parts, the rest was a good inch plus), the first time I bathed her after she started back to training, it took forever to bathe her. After the bath I noticed she was covered in lice from head to toe.










Course this sent the shudders up and
down my spine and first thing I did was to call Shawn the clipper guy.
We set an appointment for Loopy to get a new coiffure.

In the meantime, we endured laughing comments like:
"Oh, look over there- that is one lousy horse!" (All meant in good fun and bringing us lots of laughs around the barn.)





While I'm inserting the photos of her Yeti look, it's hard to tell from those just how long her fur really was.



And, it really was FUR.

This is not a coat.

Far from it.

I don't think I have ever seen a horse with fur like this, and I have seen some serious long winter growth.

She looked more like a Bakshir Curly than a Thoroughbred!


Shawn ended up not having to tie her for most of the clip-


one look at the clippers and a big sigh escaped from Loopy- "Oh thank GAWD, yes, pleeeeeeeez do your thing to me!!!"

Since the lice where also intricately woven into her mane and I really cannot even fathom trying to control that highly contagious population with another 4 horses I intimately handle every day, I told Shawn to roach her mane, as well. Course, this means, she is going to have to race with a neck strap- no mane- nothing to grab for the jockey if he needs to. Not a very big deal, but these things do happen.

So, the nekked Loopster, who now looks like a huge chunk of very milky chocolate with sprinkles of very dark chocolate across parts of her body, is feeling a whole lot better and no longer having to sweat like a stuck pig when she goes to the track. Matter of fact, she hasn't sweat, not ONCE, even in training since the body clip.

Bringing a horse back into racing shape is fairly easy, especially when you have a horse that has already run in the not too far away past. Jogging. Lots and lots of jogging to begin with.
We started this girl back with 1.5 miles and after the coat came off, she has been jogging 2 miles daily. Tomorrow, she's going to bump up to 2.5 miles.

I had the privilege to photograph the Canta-Loopy yesterday on her way to the track. The photos are in sequence. See for yourself what she thought of that.......

"Ooooh, the track... how exciting......"


"I think I better get rid off some ......."



"...of this stuff ....... ummmmpphhhh...."



"....here we go, just a little more....."


"Tadaaaahhh! Look at that! Just for you. Did you get all that on camera?"

Never mind that Loopy looks more like a Roman Warrior Steed with that roached mane and close body clip. Classy? Yes! Too classy for poop slinging? Never!

Friday, March 6, 2009

Transmission Problems!

The gears in a car aren't all that different from the gears in a racehorse.
You've got the lower gears, which are naturally slower. Then you've got the higher gears which, hopefully smoothly, accelerate speeds all the way through overdrive and double overdrive.

Cindirelli had her first official work yesterday (March 5, 2009).

Horse nameRunnin Dirty
NotesShirley
Activity typeWorkout
Activity date03-05-2009
TrackGlenwood Training Center
SurfaceDirt
Distance3 Furlongs
Workout typeBreezing
Workout time0:38.60
Track conditionFast



With a fused ankle and plenty of opposite hoof support via wedge and raised shoes, I've attempted to help make her movements smoother and easier.

Did it work? I certainly hoped so. While her prior, at the time, untended, injuries have obvious forever effects that will always be visible, the thought and hope was that they would nonetheless not be a hindrance to her talents.

The Amazing Filly went out to the track for the first time since her arrival and rehab, to be allowed to go fast. Her own personal stretch of Autobahn awaited.

Armed with my stopwatch, I walked up to the track, frantically yelling at cowboy to tell me where we were starting off from and stopping. My heart was pounding with a ferocity I hadn't experienced since the first time I took a horse to the paddock for a race. In the back of my conscious mind, little voices were chanting not in tandem with what should have been a focus on only positive thinking. The ever present worry to keep my charges safe, in some instances, from themselves was overpowering in a way I didn't think was coherently possible at this point.

Don was out on the track harrowing the inside lanes. Being one of Cindirelli's biggest fans, this wonderful old gent has consistently been a witness to her progresses and triumphs.
The training center was pretty much deserted at this point, save for a handful of people in my close circle I consider everyday friends.

I walked up to the gap where Don had pulled the tractor, my throat dry and parched, my blood pressure surely going through the roof. While I looked up to the tractor's cab with Don seated inside, he simply smiled down on me and winked- a small but reassuring gesture, that still failed to calm the storm within my being.

My hands were shaking in the 60 degree late afternoon as I watched my "problem child" warm up with a jog and then a half mile gallop. She's not perfect. She has an awful way of going in certain instances.

Memories of Cowboy's comments over the last months coming back with her from the track and thundering on about the cripple she is, the arguments in contention never ending between us until I methodically proved to him my knowledge about her soundness, or lack thereof, was solid and correct, rushed through me.
The ugly, nagging voice of doubt that every human, no matter how positive, has within them reared its head and a terrifying thought that this work may make her or quite literally, break her, resulted in my near dizziness with fear for her safety.

No, it's not normal for most trainers to feel this way. But then, I'm not most trainers. If, God forbid, one of my horses were to ever break down on the track, I would undoubtedly be the fool human running through rails and masses of people to get to my charge- praying at a high pitched scream "God please let her be ok, please let her be ok".
The heart break involved with going through such a tragedy isn't something I ever want to have to confront or endure.

Cindirelli gallops her warm-up, obviously not liking staying on her right lead, she keeps switching back to the left. An anomaly, truly, considering that the way she feels on the left lead is hard and rough- it is, after all, her "funky" leg. One would think that it should be easier for her to be on her left lead. For reasons unknown and not to be understood through scientific reasoning, she insist on doing things her way- in this case, choosing to lead with the very limb that had been so very traumatized in several places in her past.

As she approaches the quarter pole, Cowboy asks her for speed.
Watching this process is quite entertaining- she perks up and immediately throws her ears back and forth. The expression is one of unsureness- are you asking I go faster? Really? Is this a trick?
For all this time, she was never asked for speed such as this to constitute a work. Far from it, she has tried on numerous occasions to run off and fly, all to no avail and much to her chagrine.

This is different. Really? Speed? He asks again.

The girl takes off like a bat out of hell. Her rear lowers and her front stretches- it's the proverbial greyhound hunching its back, reaching under itself to propel itself forward to catch the rail rabbit. It takes only a second for her to accelerate and once she is in stride- on the far side of the track, with the rail and infield obstructing my view to watch for gait fluidity, I think to myself- did I start the watch?? A quick glance confirms that, indeed, my finger hit that button and the clock is running.

Coming up on the far turn, Don and I both look like tennis spectators, our heads following her progress in unison and coming through that turn, I realize I am chanting breathlessly, my mouth dry and voice raspy, over and over and over, a steady and desperate mantra I hope shoots straight up to the heavenly gardens of the Man in Charge: "Safe and sound, safe and sound, safe and sound, safe and sound...."

The most amazingly smooth galloping horse is tearing around the turn now coming into the stretch - her fluidity of movement unrivalled by the majority of horses that frequent our training surface daily.

Who is this horse???? Is it possible? How can this be? There is not a single wrong step, not a single out of tune move, she glides over the deep ground as her body reminds of an aerodynamically designed missile, shooting forward ever faster and smoother. If there is a perfect synch to her existence, this moment is it. Gone are the worrisome unwieldy movements that intersperse her daily gallops and jogs, THIS is a different horse. THIS is a Goddess in her element. THIS is what she was meant to do and the Higher Powers saw fit to leave her with just this very talent, unimpeded, uninterrupted, fully intact and completely functional in a perfect string of fluidity and grace, THIS, her birthright.

I realize my mouth is open and I am still chanting, a croak now caused by the drying air into my lungs. I hit the stopwatch at 3F and glance down- 39 and change- a rock solid performace for our surface that has bullets at 38.

She gallops out to 5 furlongs, jogs down, turns around and jogs back with the same grace and fluidity evidenced in her work, her ears pricked, her head high and proud and even from this distance, I can see the utter happiness in her expression.

I look up at Don in the tractor's cab and his grin goes from ear to ear, the smile completely encompassing his face and the look in his eyes rivaling mine with pride and utter joy at having witnessed this amazing moment that lasted for less than 40 seconds, yet seemed to justify a lifetime.

"Oh, Honey, she looked amazing! She looked so good!" And he winks at me.

I run back to the barn to get ready her bath buckets and finish up her stall. I'm giddy with excitement and utterly stunned at what just transpired.

Moments later, I hear Cowboy riding back into the barn, quiet and not a song on lips (unheard of!). I blabber something incoherent, wanting to hear his response, his opinion, the final verdict from the guy I trust enough to put on my horses since I can no longer do the job myself.

"Holy Shit, girl. THIS is the BEST friggin horse in your barn!"

Is it Christmas? Was this my birthday? Am I going to awaken and this was just a dream?

Cindirelli is mighty proud of herself and as it turns out, now quite full of herself, as I walk her around the shedrow to cool her down. She drinks not a single drop of water. She is jumping around happily at the end of the shank, coming past horses in their stalls and showing off to each and every one. We come back around to Piranha, her stall neighbor, his head is out and he is nickering at her encouragingly. My horses are all watching and nickering at her when we pass by. They KNOW. They are proud. They are tickled and happy. This is their homegirl and she just experienced a personal triumph.
Doodle and Spicey are both wide eyed and nodding their heads at her. Nickering softly.
I suspect it translates into something like: You go gurl!

The Amazing Cindirelli did it again. She blew me away, once again, surprising me and showing me to trust her, always always trust her because she knows what she is capable of.

The reassurance when these occasions arise is utterly simple and hard core in its statement:
Trust me! Stop worrying! Hear what I'm saying- I am my own best judge.

Her words.

As I get her through her bath, it dawns on me:

Transmission problems.

Cindirelli has transmission problems. Her lower gears are grindy here and there and will never again be like new. But those higher gears and overdrives, by God, they work like they are factory warrantied.

Who would have thought that racehorses can be so much like cars?

Runnin Dirty- early Fall 2008

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Hold it, Buster! You are under Arrest!

Chilly day today. Chief Inspector Doodle of the Special Hay and Undercover Feed Task Force was very happy.... and busy!

Suspect (Trainer) Anne was cleaning out her van- she distributes the "Bargain Mart" magazine, those penny saver type publications.
She apparently also distributes pretty much everything else out of the back of that van- illegal substances, all, that had to be investigated carefully.

It was determined that Inspector Doodle did not need a search warrant as the vehicle was left open and unattended for more than an hour. Plain view exception and all.

Upon further investigation, it was determined by Inspector Doodle, that there was sufficient evidence present to take into custody-
first by careful examination through odor detection with special odor detection devices built right into his special police investigator horse nostrils.


Then the evidence was taken into temporary custody in the special Doodle sized jowls- notice the extra big cheeks he had built especially for the job.

It was later determined that there were illegal substances present, including but not limited to:

Alfalfa hay residue

Timothy hay

Straw

Sweet Feed crumbs and several handfuls of this illegal substance hidden beneath what appeared to be empty bags of it.

When the investigation had to be cut short due to the perpetrator's vehicle hurriedly driving off the premises, Inspector Doodle vowed to continue his investigation tomorrow upon the most likely return of the suspect with the incriminating vehicle.

In the meantime, if you should see a green, beat-up looking mini van with a distinctly loud engine, please refrain from approaching the driver. She may look harmless, but she is cunning and dangerous. She has an arsenal of devices to lure unsuspecting horses into the back of the van and convince them to do her bidding, which would most likely involve running at very high speeds in order to win large purse monies.

If you spot the suspect or the vehicle, please call 1-800-Doodle-THIS! right away.

Do not, under any circumstances attempt to apprehend the suspect on your own!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Enough to Make a Grown Man Cry......

Friday the 13th. What month is this again? February I suppose.

My days run together. So much so that I generally yell at my daughter Friday nights to get her butt in bed because she better not be tardy to school in the morning. She steadfastly ignores me, which gets my goat, of course. By the time I stalk into her room to really yell at her, she simply turns to me and states: Mom! It's frickin Friday!

Oh. Ooops.

This day I will never forget.

Cindirelli.

While Cindirelli was coming along nicely as far as weight gain, we had some rather bizarre soundness issues to deal with. Soundness in the sense that they were gait related, but not actual lameness issues.

It all started with taking the girl to the track back when, in order to jog. She lost her mind completely. She got so worked up with excitement, it took three people to give a leg up to the rider, a lip chain, another shank and an average of 20 minutes to get her legged up, out to the track and then off the shank.
Then, we would all line up along the rail to watch the circus performance. Cindirelli could do everything from bucking, to trying to run off, getting rid off the rider, side passing at ALL gaits, and believe it or not, galloping backwards. Yup, you read that right.

She had never been trained on the track. She only ever saw the track when it was either time for an official work, or a race. To her, going up to the track meant excitement! Racing! Running as fast as you can!
Now imagine getting that out of her.

To begin with, she was major ouchy on her LF hoof. Her ankle on the RF is fused and set. This means it is less flexible in how the fetlock can move below when weight is put on that leg.
Now, couple these two things and what you are looking at is a horse who, while jogging, looks like a pacer.
In harness racing, when horses are pacing to warm up, they sort of tilt side to side.
Well, that's what Cindirelli would do.
She never had any swelling or heat in any of her joints or tendons, so she isn't straining to do the work or in pain.

Another problem she has had that's just been such a major mystery is the fact that when you are watching her out there, you could literally draw a line through her middle, cutting her in half, separating the two parts and realize that the front of this horse does not move the same way the back end does. She was like two separate entities put together, both doing their own thing.
While it felt like she was perhaps cross-firing, in reality she wasn't. She just wasn't moving in tandem.

99% of the time, she was holding her head way up there, sometimes cocked sideways, most times fighting the bit to the point that you'd wonder if she knew there was anything else going on around her AT ALL.

There were so many separate weird things going on with her that couldn't be explained by previous injuries (apart from the fused ankle and the broken down LF hoof). Some days, Cowboy would come back and tell me:
"She's a cripple! She can't move right! I can't put my finger on it exactly but it's got to be that [rf] leg."

I was convinced that wasn't the case. All I ever saw with that front end issue was the hoof. We argued countless times. We had screaming matches about this.

"It's her friggin broken knee and ankle, it's gotta be!"

"No, I am telling you, it's her opposite hoof!"

"Bullshit, you can't tell me that hoof is causing all that, she's a cripple!"

"Don't you dare ever say that in front of her again where she can hear you! And it's not her knee or her ankle, it's her hoof!"

He's threatened to not take her to the track. I've threatened to fire him and put someone else on my horses.

When Stephanie made some rather radical changes to Cindirelli's LF hoof, I was really looking forward to seeing the results the next day at the track.
Cowboy almost had an aneurysm when I told him she is going to the track on that particularly nasty day- sloppy surface and uneven.

"You don't want to take HER out there today."

"Oh, yes I do, I REALLY want to take her out there today. I REALLY REALLY want to take her out there today. And if you don't want to, I'll find someone else who will."

So off to the track she went.

Amazingly enough, all Cowboy could say when he came back with her was:
"I'll be damned. Guess you were right. Musta been the hoof."

I'm always right about the hooves. Period. I don't know why people don't realize that. Tsk.

So we progressed into regular training. Although the hoof issues had improved, a problem now was that she was extremely uneven in the front. Her RF hoof is upright and clubby. Her LF hoof was underslung, long in the toe and pretty much broken down to the point that it was a good half inch shorter in height than the RF. Uneven.

The only way to fix that without waiting another 6 months to a year to restore that hoof, was to put shoes on her.

Now I have a blacksmith who comes out to the training center, who is very good at what he does. I have never seen him cause a problem on a horse by doing a bad shoeing job.
I called him up and explained what I thought she needed- padding or an elevated wedge shoe on the LF, a regular one of the RF.

It took us almost 2 hours to get that shoeing job right on her but he did it. I have to say I was very impressed with the fact that he actually made a point of trimming and measuring both feet before he ever attempted to put anything on her shoe-wise.

So Cindirelli now has brand-new shoes and it has made another big difference in her movement.

But that rear end still had a mind of its own. Her head was still up on the 14th floor, cocking sideways, jerking at the bit, mouth wide open, teeth bared.

I was talking to a friend of mine a few weeks ago who is a trainer down in the southwest and who gets nothing but EPM horses, treats them, restores them back to health and wins races with them. According to Lynn, EPM is not just the regular weird stuff. She is convinced, and has evidence in her own barn, of horses that have bizarre things wrong with them, that nothing else seems to explain just all by itself. Separately, those symptoms could be explained away by different ailments. Not altogether.

Seeing how I was not convinced that EPM was actually a factor and I certainly was not going to talk dear owner into spending upwards of $800 on a drug like Marquis, that may or may not show us results, I went on the internet and starting looking for alternative treatments for EPM.

I ran across a post a woman had put up on a message board where she, through her own research, had come up with a mixture of herbs that seemed to have worked absolute wonders on her gelding who had been diagnosed with EPM and who now was completely recovered.

I went to the website of the company who sells the herbs. Prices weren't outrageous but I was operating within a budget- my own: The deal I made with her owner was that I would like to try some herbs. If they do not work, I will not bill her for them.
If they do work, I'll add them on a later bill.

To begin with, the list of herbs this woman had made her concoction out of was lengthy. The price would have been around $200. Not happening.

Since this wonderful website had all the herbs listed with their own data sheets - pretty impressively put together, along with research citations- I went on a quest to find the one herb on that list that I thought would give me the fastest and surest results, if in fact, Cindirelli had EPM.

Right before the bad temperature drop and snow hit us, I put her on a wean-on dose of the herb, in her nightly feed. After investigating the fragrant new aroma, she went right to work and ate it all up.
When the weather hit us, I had Cindi up to a regular dose of the herb nightly. We were stuck without any kind of training for 3 days. On the 4th day, I was able to shedrow the horses (ride them at a jog in the shedrow).

It was immediately apparent that there was a change in Cindirelli's jog. It had improved.
Not only that, but she was calmer. She wouldn't just try to run out of her stall like it was a starting gate when you went to take her out. She wouldn't just go completely kooky in the shedrow at a hand walk where not even a lip chain made it possible to hold her.

She jogged like.... a normal horse. She was happy, alert, in a good mood but not nutty. Her brain seemed to be functioning in a more focused, intended kind of manner.

After 2 days of this, she popped up with that huge haematoma. In order to be on ANY other drugs and for those drugs to be able to metabolize in the liver and then go to work, she had to be off the herb. This particular herb (by the name of Fedegoso) is also a potent detox agent.

Off the herb, on the antibiotic.

A week passed. She deteriorated. Her behavior declined a bit but not completely back to the fruitcake she so regularly was before. Her jog declined, not by very much but more importantly, her rear end was still doing it's weird cross-firing but not cross-firing.

At this point, having seen that there was an obvious effect from the herb, I reported back to Lynn my findings and the quick timeframe in which they showed up.
That night, I went online and ordered another 2 herbs, one a very potent anti-protozoal, anti-parasitic, anti-cancer, anti-viral and anti-microbial.

The haematoma was still there but I felt given time it would absorb anyhow, whether she was on antiobiotics or not. I took her off the antibiotics and put her on all three herbs.

This was 2 days ago.

Two days ago, the horse I sent to the track still had two separate parts to it- two distinct entities front and rear. Her head, even with an elevator bit was up in the sky, her neck wasn't cocked funny any longer but she was fighting the bit every step of the way, trying to still run off, doing her version of cross-firing.

Yesterday, my friend Gilberto got on her because Cowboy had to pick up his daughter.
I gave Gilberto a brief recap of her history as it pertained to her training. Told him that I also thought that she may dislike certain things the way Cowboy does them. I told him how Cowboy told me just a few weeks ago that if I entered her for a race, the way she was going, her rider would scratch her from the gates or the post parade.

Gave him a leg up. No elevator bit, just a regular snaffle, which I had used on her in the past, along with a million other bits I've tried.

Cindirelli went out to the track calmly. She jogged in a relaxed manner, with just the right amount of "go".

Gilberto has very quiet hands. He's a very quiet rider. He can just sit up there on a horse and make what he does look so unbelievably effortless.
He went to gallop her and although there was just a tiny bit of complaining, she went rather well. Better than before.

When he came back with her, he told me that he didn't think she was all that bad and that whatever it was that was going on "back there"- she seems to sort of work out of.

Don, who maintains our track and has his horses next to mine, came back over to the shedrow and said he saw her out there and she looked better than she had ever looked out there.
I agreed but thought, well, am I firing Cowboy off this horse?

Some riders get along with certain horses, others don't. Cowboy is tall and long-legged. While he is an excellent exercise rider with a ton of experience, he sits very far back in the saddle and some horses have problems with this.

When I left the barn last night, I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the rider situation today.

Turns out, nothing was the best decision I could have made.

Cindirelli was in a super mood today. For the first time, she ate every little bit of hay I gave her last night and this morning. There was no feed left in her tub (some mornings, she would leave a handful, others a little more).

I tossed her a jolly ball when she was in the swing stall while I cleaned hers. She went to town with it. The ball came flying out of the stall on several occasions. She had a soccer match in there.

Got her ready for the track and while tied to the wall, she kicked the stall door repeatedly, HARD, trying to make a point that she had no patience for this and wanted to go to the track.

Legged Cowboy up on her, with just the same snaffle.

She jigged on her way up out of the barn to the track. She calmly walked onto the track. She started jogging so nicely, my jaw dropped and hit the grass I was standing on.
I had told Cowboy to sort of let her do her thing. If she wanted her head more, give it to her. If she wanted to gallop faster, let her. Just don't two minute lick her or get her to a work speed.

What happened out there next hit me with such force, right in the gut, I had tears in my eyes.

This girl galloped with her head and neck collected. She never once fought the bit. She went for a mile and a half and never once tried to run away. She went out there and the horse I sent out of the barn was exchanged for an entirely different horse.
My mouth was literally open from the time she started until she came back.

When Cowboy rode her back into the barn and saw me, he turned very serious.
"Come on, it's not that bad, is it?"

I was crying. I couldn't help it. I was so touched by what I had just witnessed out there.
This wonderful, wonderful filly was back to being herself.

"She damned sure would not have gotten scratched today", was all he said as he took her tack away.

Before he left, while I was walking Ms. Calmness herself around the shedrow, he stuck his head around the corner:

"She's not even doing that funny cross-firing but not cross-firing thing.
Whatever you are giving her, it's working miracles."

And gone he was.

Cindirelli and I had a good talk about how proud I was of her and what an amazing girl she is. Each time I looked over at her and she would rub against me, or take a tiny corner of my shirt in her mouth to tug on, or put her head on my shoulder, bump me here or there, I just wanted to cry.

Someone asked me a week or so ago in one of those 30-questions-about-you emails when the last time was I cried.
Hell, I couldn't honestly remember. A few months ago watching a movie, probably. Honestly, not sure. I just don't generally cry. Period.
I'm much too busy working, enjoying my life, having good days than to get myself worked up in anything to such an extent that I will cry about it.

Apparently, there are still things that can make me cry at the drop of a hat.

Like this filly and the road she took coming here, her journey to recovery and the difference in the horse she was even just a few weeks ago, with the complete..... I don't know what to call it!.... change she has gone through just in the last few days and is going to continue going through.

Her real name is Runnin Dirty.

Her daddy is Capote.

Her dam is Fundraising by Black Tie Affair (IRE).

She stands right at 17 hands.

She weighs around 1100 lbs.

She has no patience.

She has rotten habits.

She misbehaves more often than she behaves.

She'll walk right over you to get to where she wants to go.

And she brought me to my knees today just by showing me the trust she placed in me, the faith I had in her in return, my misgivings of listening to conventional vets (save one) and the road we took together so far- all those things, they were meant, and somehow, she knew it.

Providence.

Enough to make a grown (wo)man cry.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Enough Already!

The great state of Kentucky has once again been through the wringer, weather-wise, that is.

I have lived in many different states and I have to tell you guys, never have I lived in one with such a sad excuse for local government, that at the same time taxes the living daylights out of its county residents. The officials are so obviously inept and most probably more interested in filling their own pockets, coupled with a "holier than thou" attitude, which shines brightly in their continued anti-smoking campaigns (helloooooooo- this is Kentucky- tobacco being one of the major crops grown here- so, can we say DUMB???)

Each time there is inclement weather, and granted the weather people are pretty much paid to lie, or best case scenario, guesstimate, one would think that when there is a freeze warning, this city would get up off its rather large and lazy arse and at least put some salt on those roads.

I could go on and on about the ineptitude and inefficiencies, let alone idiocies that take place here on a daily basis, but that's not what I'm writing this post for.

I'm writing because I am SICK AND FRIGGIN TIRED OF THIS WEATHER!!!!!!!



My horses are going nuts. The track is closed. The track. Hmmmm. What track!!!??????
You can't even see the track. You'd never know there was a track if it wasn't for the damned rail around it!



The driveway around the farm is a layer of 3 inches of ice with a light dusting of snow still visible on top. You can't walk without balancing. Thank God the shedrow is covered by the barn roof or that would be just as big a mess.

So my horses are nuts. Doodle is acting like a yearling. We're way past the two year old stage here.

Spicey had a really nice, really fast first work a couple of weeks ago. This experience has obviously put ideas in her head. She wants no part of pacing herself in any activity. She has been awakened. She looks over at the track with that faraway expression. She jumps, kicks and bucks every chance she gets.

Cindirelli has an abscess/haematoma on her stifle where she cast herself 2 weeks ago. The thing is as big as a cantaloupe. Vet friend of mine is going to lance it on Saturday. She's not in pain and it's not interfering with her gaits but just simple antibiotics and painting it has done nothing so far. It wants to come to a head but it's just taking an awfully long time. Better to take care of it now and be done with it. I took these photos with my phone today. You have to strain a bit to see but the "thing" is precisely on her right stifle.


And here is a "head on" view from the front, under her belly:


Isn't that pleasant?

Nana, the ever nutty ADHD child (gelding) is, surprisingly, the only one who is behaving no different than he really is- a mouthy fruitcake who likes to screw with anyone in reach but you gotta love his consistency!

So my girls are just waiting for the track to re-open before we get more works in and finally make it to some races! I'm wishing really hard that the worst weather is over and done with.

I hope all you guys out there are having a better time than we are. 'Cept of course Carolyn maybe.... how was that -8 degree riding weather today, girlfriend?

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Don't Touch My Horse!!!!!


Pet peeve. Piss off. Major irk. Can of whup-ass ready to open. Teeth and claws extending.

Anyone with me here?

One of the no-nos around a racing barn- if you have no affiliation with a horse, don't frigging touch it. Unless the horse is running loose and needs catching, stay away. Not a hand, finger, nothing.

That said, let me tell a little story that happened today.

I took the Doodle up to the arena to turn him out this afternoon after my hay run.
We'd already trained and everyone was done. I asked the last exercise rider I saw and he told me, everyone is finished. No one is using the arena.

So I sweet talk Doodle into behaving himself, all the way up the hill to the arena.

Turn him out, let him go. I watch him do caprioles, unofficial mini-works, he runs some poles like a champ (there are beams in the center of the arena). He bucks, he kicks, he runs, he has fun.
After witnessing the biggest steam being let off, I tell him:

"Have fun, don't hurt yourself, I'll be back!"

I turn all the horses out at least once a week. I do it for obvious reasons- they're not meant to live in stalls 24/7. Unfortunately, we have no turn out paddocks or pastures. So the arena gets to double as my horses' turnout field.

Nice thing- it is well maintained and has great footing. Racehorses don't all behave as well as they should when turned out. Some of them will invariable hurt themselves.
This is a really nice, safe alternative and my guys all love it.

I go run my errands and go back up the hill to get Doodle.

When I walk in, the gate is wide open - my first thought is, oh shit! He escaped!

Once my eyes adjusted- I see Doodle in one of two temporary stalls off to the side. In the arena are two guys doing their idea of longeing a two year old.

They see me and one says:
"Hey, we took good care of your horse!"

I'm livid. Good care my ass!

"Oh did you now?"

"Yea, we were really careful when we moved him!"

"Not careful enough!"

Horse stops circling and the guy turns to me:

"What do you mean?"

I clear my throat, walk in and face him about a foot away:

"What I mean is that if you EVER fucking touch my horse again without asking my permission, I'm kicking your fucking ass, is what I mean!"

My arms are crossed, my foot is tapping and I'm waiting.

The other guys is off to the side, snickering.

So I turn to him and tell him:

"And you think that's funny, I'll kick your ass, too, come on!"

I turn around and walk over to Doodle.

I hear a "man, I'm sorry, I was just trying to do the right thing here, you know.."

"Well, let me tell you, the right thing would have been for you to come ask me to move the horse and that you need the arena. That would have been the right thing.

In the future, you'll know what to do, right?"

I snapped my shank back on Doodle and as we were leaving, Doodle turns towards the little group, snorts, snakes his head up and down and with an elegant turn of foot, leads me out of the arena.

So, I know rules as related to race horses are different than rules in boarding barns.

You guys ever have to deal with this type of thing? And does it bother you?
Ever come into the barn to find your horse has been moved to another stall without any notice to you or permission from you? How do you guys handle it?

I'm obviously not very tactful when getting my point across when it comes to my children (human or animal). But I think I made my point and it left a lasting impression.


How do you all feel about people outside of your circle handling your horse(s) without your permission?