Building a Bond

Yesterday was cool and cloudy, another storm system is building.  I wanted to work with Tex, though, so I put on my jacket and gloves and headed to the pasture.

"Hi, Tex"
"Oh, its you."  Tex swung his haunches away from me and then walked over.  As I lifted my arm to drape the rope over his neck, he took a nervous step away from me.
"Whoa, Tex.  No need to leave."
"Okay, I won't."
I always wait for him to drop his nose into the halter.  I think its less stressful for him if he chooses the halter, rather than it being forced on him.  I walked him up to the tie rail where my tack box was waiting.  I didn't tie him, I just draped the rope over my shoulder and proceeded to groom him.  A couple of times, he backed up, away from the tie rail area.

Lucy sees trolls in the dressage court.  Tex sees them at the tie rail.  Our property must be a real troll city.  They seem to be everywhere.

When Tex backed up, I kept him backing beyond the point where it was what he wanted.  Then we calmly walked back to our grooming spot at the tie rail.  I was able to groom his left side with no trouble.  The right side was more problematic; he is very nervous when you are on that side of him.  At one point, he stretched his nose towards my face and without even thinking I kissed him on his velvet muzzle.
"Holy crap, woman!  What are you doing!!"  and he jumped back.  Poor Tex, I think it was his first kiss.

We worked in the arena for awhile on the lunge.  As long as I was to his left, he went fine.  But having him go to the right was another story.  He respectfully declined.  He wasn't rude, he just kept swinging his butt away from me instead of moving off.  Part of it was not understanding, and part of it was not wanting me on his right.  I took off the lunge line and decided to try it with Tex at liberty.  That way, I could be further away from him and hopefully he could figure it out without being stressed.  We went left, the easy way first, and he was good as gold.  Then I asked him to turn -- he thought about it and then took a few tentative steps in the correct direction.  I praised him and he kept going.

Afterwards, I tried putting his long, thick copper mane into a reverse braid.  Keeping the tangles and dreadlocks under control is a huge challenge.  I used a reverse braid with my Friesian and it worked great.  I start at the withers and French braid up to the poll.  It is important that the head be down so the braid doesn't pull on the neck when they eat.  I used to braid Auke in his stall, while he was eating.  I led Tex over to some grass and got to work.  I did a fast, loose braid because he really wasn't sure about the whole thing.  By this morning 90% of it was undone.  I had expected that; the first braid was just to get him used to the process.

I worked with him again today.  Catching and haltering are easy peasy now.  I was able to groom both sides with him ground tied.  He only backed up twice.  We put Flash and Tex in the arena so they could roll in the sand (their pasture is a muddy swamp) and then I re-did the braid.  This time, it went much better.  I was able to concentrate on getting a better braid in place and he wasn't worried about me fussing around while he ate.

Oh, and I kissed him again.  Twice.  He liked it.

The Most Romantic Gift

Two years ago, my mom and dad were here for what would be my mom's last Christmas.  We didn't know she would be gone two months later, of course, but we all knew that her health was failing.  It was the elephant in the room; we circled around her, voicing concerns about oxygen, her immune system, and her failing memory.  But we rarely broached the subject directly.  None of us wanted to think about life without Mom.

On Christmas morning 2013, my mom gave my dad a gift; a small journal.  She had written short paragraphs on each page.  Memories, thank yous for a better life than she had ever expected, and thoughts.  It wasn't mushy; my mom was not a sentimental person.  And it was that -- the fact that my sensible, emotionally strong, and practical mother had given my father a very sentimental and romantic gift that did us in.  We cried.  All of us.  My dad didn't read it then; he couldn't.  He carried it around with him in the months after her death until he was ready to open the pages.

Brett and I were deeply touched by the gift of the journal and we spoke of it often.  A few months ago, around the time of our anniversary, I had an idea which I shared with Brett.  We both struggle with finding appropriate cards for each other on birthdays and anniversaries.  I suggested we buy a notebook and write a card to each other in the book on those occasions, or whenever the mood strikes us.  Brett loved the idea but he didn't want me to buy just any old notebook.  He wanted to find something nicer.

Christmas morning I opened a gift from him containing a beautiful leather journal, hard bound, with a green silk ribbon.

But the part that made me cry (and made his face buckle watching me) was the inscription in the lower right corner.  Many of you know how much I love France.  I practice French everyday; I read books and magazines in French; I love French wine, cheese, and food.  One of my closest friends, Sylvie, lives in Brittany.  Brett, who doesn't speak any French, had researched and translated into French the phrase -- "Shared thoughts and emotions."

This morning I wrote my first entry.