Posted on October 27, 2014 by Jesse Richardson
One thing you realize in the horse world is that everybody knows everybody, through somebody, by way of somebody. Diane refers to an Amy, and I ask her which one because I swear half the people she knows is an Amy. She’s the one with the big bay mare….. Like, um, if I can’t remember all your Amy’s, telling me which horse they were with, that’s not gonna help. The concept of referencing a person by their horse – horse people do that all the time, and it seems to work for them. Our friend Russ was like, “The one with the nice canter and a big white blaze? Yeah, I do remember her, so that was Amy? Ok.”. And for me, it’s like, I remember there WERE horses, they were everywhere, but that doesn’t help me.
Dover Saddlery just opened up in Houston and Austin, and it’s like Starbucks for horse people just moved into the neighborhood. Young hipster twenty-somethings flock to the Starbucks to get their caffeine fixes, mingle with their own kind to thump thump nouveau social music and sustainable farming. Horse people flock to the new tack store to feed their addiction to horsey gear among their own kind, amid the mixed aromas of fresh leather and sticky horse lick-it treats. It won’t be long before they have technology to run a credit check on you as you walk in the door so they know your budget. I was whispering in Diane’s ear as we walked in, “Let’s be careful.” On this particular occasion, we were going to return a tail extension. You’ve heard of hair extensions for women? Hair pieces for men? Well, horses are people too, apparently. Sometimes when you have a big performance, you just want the extra confidence of knowing you are well-coiffed, that’s all. And Malloy has similar needs. When he goes to the show, he gets his mane braided, his tail braided, and ahem, a little strategic tail augmentation as of late. If I were to tally up the monthly grooming and hair care cost for the family, I bet Diane comes in third, behind Malloy and our Corgi Cooper.
I have been learning a lot about horse anatomy lately. There are really only two things that can go wrong – they can get constipated or develop a limp – but both are life threatening. If a horse stops pooping, they lay down and you’ve got a serious problem. People say he collic’ed and you’ve got to take them to the doctor to put oil down their nose. When I saw them do that to our retired horse Casanova Rags, it kind of seemed like a teenage prank, like watch what happens when I put his hand in warm water while he sleeps. Horses legs are even more complicated. Somebody starts moving funny and out come the anatomy books. You put the horse on a trailer and take him to the doctor to use a lame-o-meter – a device I should’ve patented back in high school, though the target subjects and readings would’ve been completely different. Vets have been working on horse tummies and legs from times immemorial but modern medicine has christened a new vet specialty – chiropractors. It makes a lot of sense to me. My back hurts and I don’t have anybody riding around on me, under a saddle, yanking me around a course. I see a lot of horses wincing, smacking their lips, looking back round as if to say, “Easy there fella”. So a little horse adjustment seems like a good idea every now and then. But it takes a special specialist. The human chiropractors tell jokes about horse chiropractors, the same way MD’s tell about them, with only minor adjustments to the punchline.
As Malloy and Cass are both Thoroughbreds, we also have to keep an eye on weight – putting it on and keeping it on. You like your typical hunt horse to be a little rotund, a little Alfred Hitchcock not so much John Goodman. Thoroughbreds are built like greyhounds so achieving the right body image is a challenge. Luckily, Malloy likes to eat. He buries his head in the bucket, shakes it side to side, comes up chewing, looking around like he was expecting a dinner party guest who is overdue. When it’s rainy and the horses have been in for a few days, we go to the barn and take them out to graze. I lead one – or get dragged by one – over to a spot with tall grass and they pull it out by the roots and eat until they move on to the next spot. It is a little like holding Diane’s purse when she shops. Yes, I am on the other end of the lead rope, but you can tell I am not directing the action. Malloy wanders from rack to rack, checking prices and pulling up bunches of grass, dragging me along attached to the lead rope, because obviously we’ll get done faster if he doesn’t have to carry the lead rope too.
Malloy has been doing well under our trainer Dev’s tutelage. He is consistent, does his changes on cue, and lays down some nice trips. So I am getting the lingo down too, pretty much. The other day I heard a new one – equal parts heavy and fresh – like directions in a recipe. Add water as needed, work in hay until thickened, remove and discard muck. Serve when chill. The hallway of ribbons is nearly full, so they are piling up on the dining room table. Come to think of it, I should probably disinfect them or something, coming straight from the barn to the dining table.
A few weeks ago, we went to Pine Hill to school cross-country fences. It was just a play day, so no official duties for anybody. I got to try my hand at being the show photographer, waiting for just the right moment to capture the shot. I was giving Malloy a bit of “the camera loves you” like they do on fashion shoots, and some of the ” who loves you baby?” which was from the tv show Kojak, mainly because it sounded cool. After a while it started raining on us, and in the horse world, they really frown on running from the rain like scared little ninnies, so I refrained from my first inclination. Hunkering down is always a good second option. I followed the mounted crew around hunkered, taking photos from under trees. Those on foot were following like the crowd at a golf tournament, trying to stay close without actually being part of the action. Then the skies opened up, drenching almost everybody. I brought an umbrella. Good day in the country though, nice to get away and play in the rain.
-jesse
Corgi Ranch, TX 