Bellingham or Bust!

I have not figured out how to tell the whole story publicly because I don't want to get all gossipy, and I really don't want this blog to have any bad ju-ju. So I'll try to write the Cliff's Notes version. Keep in mind that I am cramming three weeks of sleepless nights, emails, phone calls, trips to the stable, blood, sweat, tears, etc, etc into a few paragraphs. So bear with me.

It seems that the woman who sold him to us (let's call her Sybil; not her real name) may have actually believed that she was selling us beginners a fully-trained horse. Which is fine; there are days that I actually believe I am the Queen of Romulania and my shade tree produces twenties instead of fruit, and Edward Cullen will knock on my door any day now, crooked grin on his face, eyes blazing red, and say "You better hold on tight, spider monkey," and whisk me out into the starry night. And that I'll never have to wax my brows again. And that Springsteen wrote 'Born to Run' about me.

But I digress.

Bottom line: we love him madly but HE IS NOT A TRAINED HORSE.

This whole time we had been brainwashed by Little Miss Sybil into thinking it was "our fault," that "if only we were more experienced he'd be fine" -- but then all these people came to meet him and rode him, and they were like, Oh gosh no, it's totally not you; he's one-sided, and he just doesn't know basic rein and leg cues. It was that simple: he just didn't know. Not that he can't learn. But the bottom line is: it's not us -- they, with years and years of experience and way mad horse skills, all got on him and were like -- oh, so he's untrained? This coming from 4, 5, 6 people? Trainers? All with the same things happening? Yeah -- in the words of the great Robert Zimmerman: It ain't me, babe.

He is a sweet, sweet, sweet boy. A kind horse, an eager-to-learn horse, an experienced follower on trails, a greenbroke pony with a heart-o-gold. He gives the best horse hugs on the planet. Was he the right fit for beginners? Absolutely not. Did we throw away our life savings? Just about. Did I see it coming? Not at all. We were led to believe we were buying a trained horse (and if you have a bridge for sale, I'd be interested in coming to see it).

I mean: who sells a practically untrained horse to a kid and her mom? Talk about bad karma. You've got to be crazy to do something like that (yeah, crazy like a FOX).

HOWEVER. The story has a very happy ending: the MOST wonderful woman came and took him today. So he'll be living in Bellingham now, with a beautiful Arab as a pasturemate and 10 gorgeous acres as his playground, and he found himself the best human he (we) could have hoped for. She is kind, no-nonsense, strong, intuitive, gentle, honest, grounded, centered, calm, skilled, smart: all those great horseman (woman) qualities. And she is up for the task of working with Tobbi, teaching him to respond to cues instead of just following others on trails. She already worked with him a tiny bit in the arena, and he started to respond to her. It was a beautiful thing.

And then, in an act that was the polar opposite of Sybil and her crazy swinging carrot stick, crying in the rain, chaos, confusion, trial runs and excuses (and then blaming the whole brouhaha on me; it was "beacuse we were there" that he was "distracted") -- was today's trailering experience: He stepped right in. First try. Just walked in like you or I would just walk in (step step; step step). Took all of 3 seconds. (And we were there. So I guess that wasn't our fault either. This is all so liberating).

So. That chapter is over. Lindsey is still taking lessons every week, and there is still no better smell than horse-smell, no better kisses than big flappy heavy lipped horse-slop kisses, no better feeling than being up on that high broad back. But for now, horse-owners we are not. What a whirlwind THAT was! Reminiscent of the Carmen Electra-Dennis Rodman marriage, but w/o the makeup.

(PS: any blogging that will be done from now on will be done over at the mother blog, http://wendyblackburn.blogspot.com/) And I'm going to sleep for the next week solid; I'm drained from it all...

A Flurry of Interest!

Interesting how when you do truly let go and put it out to the universe, the universe provides...

In the past few days, I have heard from a delightful mom with two girls who ride that are looking for a horse of their own; a broker/trainer/seller who might have a lead; a breeder who might have a lead; a generous offer from our trainer to help match-make; someone who saw the short-lived ad I had online and is interested in the breed and thinks he sounds wonderful; and the woman who was going to drive him back to Orcas, back when we thought he was going "home," she wants to come meet him too!

So there is interest. People want to meet him. Not that I don't understand why! What's not to like? I so wish we had timed this differently and waited until we were better riders, but if I start on my list of regrets I'll run out of bandwith or something. And I'm not into guilt-trips and told-you-so's, so I'm not going to dwell on what we should have done differently ... just move on from here and see who comes into his life, that can do him some justice. I know we love him, and I know sometimes that just isn't enough. Love is not (sorry, Lennon/McCartney) all you need. You also need training and better horsemanship skills, and a great deal of money.