My Second First Horse

So over time details get blurred, but this is how I remember getting my second first horse.  The owner of the auction barn contacted us about a couple of 'possibles' that had come in and were slated to go into the ring that weekend.

Lady Bug

It was my Mom's birthday-- July 15, 1978--and we were going to swing by the auction barn on the way to my sister's house where we were going to a party for Mom.  I remember it was hot and the late afternoon sun steamed up the small arena behind the auction barn.  In it were several horses.  The first one that the auction owner had was a tall, light bay --two year old--mare.  I believe she was mostly quarter horse but was leggy and light built.  Just getting up on her was a challenge.  I rode her a few rounds and she was as typical two year old--frisky and full of energy and evidently green broke.  I'm sure she was a nice mare, but I did not want her.  I'd had my fill of young and frisky. 

The next candidate was a dull coated, pot bellied dark sorrel mare, with a roached mane,  blazed face and scarred neck.

She looked tired, and depressed.  After a boost up I rode her around bareback.  Around and around we plodded, with nary a twitch.   And that was that.  She was the one. I didn't need to ride anymore of those other horses.  I wanted a plodder.  A horse I could enjoy myself on--not have to worry about.  Her name was Lady and she was purchased that day for $350.00.

Another neighbor just happened to have their stock trailer there and we were able to get a ride for Lady.  The only hitch was, we had a birthday party to go to and they needed to go home.  This was problematic--and the solution was not ideal.   These neighbors lived about four miles from us across the river.   So we went to the birthday party and Lady went home with them to wait in the trailer.  I have no idea why they could not have driven her to our house later or let my dad drive the truck and trailer but that didn't seem to be an option.  We left  the party and headed out to retrieve Lady as dusk neared.  By the time we got to their house it was getting dark.

Now came the tricky part.  Dad was going to ride her home.  A strange horse.  In the dark.  On a strange (to her) road.  Phew.   She actually did better than you would expect and even crossed a very long high bridge over the river (quite remarkable since she later would balk at every bridge we came to).   However it was a harrowing ride for my Dad and Lady, and if I remember correctly he had to finally get off and lead her home a mile or two, as she just wouldn't keep going forward.

Good grief we were crazy.

But I had my horse.  Lady--or as I often called  her, Lady Bug.  She was a four year old grade quarter horse mare.   I believe she had had a hard life and was what you call 'dead-broke'.  She was also extremely head shy and very sour in disposition.  She wasn't mean, but she didn't really want much to do with humans.  She had been a working horse and had been worked hard.    I think she cow kicked my dad once, but that was about her worst.  

It took awhile--but she overcame her head shyness, and once she was treated decently (read spoiled rotten), wormed and put on a good feed, she perked up and lost her hangdog look.   Her coat became shiny and she lost that wormy looking belly.   Her mane grew out --a long and silky flaxen color.

Lady was a rock, but she was no deadbeat once she started to feel better.  She enjoyed rides as much as I did and would gawk all the way (when she wasn't trying to steal bits to eat).  We had many many lovely rides together.  I loved that horse and she was a gentle mild mannered creature.   She had a trot that would jar your teeth out and a slow plodding walk. Her feet were large and she would sometimes trip over them when she was busy sight-seeing.   My Mom and Dad would be way out ahead of us during most rides.   We would trot to catch up....fall behind...trot to catch up.

Lady was accident prone, and just off the top of my head I can think of several incidents she was 'involved' in.  One time she cut her chest badly (we think on the water tank) which took forever to heal.  Another day I came home and found her nose swollen and a huge gash between her nostrils.  It took me months to figure that one out---finding a huge hornets nest hanging low in the paddock I presume she was stung and yanked her face away only to hit her nose on a fence post.  That one took awhile too.  Then there was the time we both got into a yellow jackets nest while riding.  I did manage to get off and nearly got her led out, but they overcame us and she broke loose, bucking up the road.  She only ran to my Dad and his horse,  but we almost had a mass stampede as the yellow jackets followed  her.  On another ride I mistakenly let her step lively across the highway going down a hill and her feet came right out from under her.  We both had some skinned places but not as bad as it could have been.  I always wondered what happened to her poor neck where she carried a huge scar under her mane.  At some point she had been severely injured.

She bucked me off once.  Totally unexpected and out of character, but we had lagged behind the other two, and we were almost home.  One minute we are jogging along to catch up and the next I'm on the ground watching my gentle mare bucking off around the corner.  She was a little too gleeful looking about that, but once she caught up with the other horses she was happy.  I'll never forget the look she gave me when I came walking around the corner.  She actually turned her head back over her should to watch me walk in--- "Oh, there you are!  I wonder where you had got to".  

Lady blossomed and became a beautiful horse--she still had big clumsy feet, but had the most beautiful expressive face and eyes and her color was a rich deep sorrel.  We learned allot together.  For most of her life she lived with my Dad and Mom's horses (Comanche, my Mom's palomino gelding was added after I got Lady--it wasn't any fun to leave Mom home when we went riding!!  Sometime I'll write Comanche's story...).

We rode regularly for four or five years, but the roads became busier and we had less and less safe places to ride.  Some days it wasn't even fun to ride with the cars and motorcycles and all manner of rude drivers.  So gradually we rode less and eventually the horses became lazy pasture ornaments.  I would take Lady out and ride her on occasion and it didn't matter if it had been a year or a week she never offered any sass.  She was still 'dead broke'.  The last time I rode her was just a gentle bareback stroll around the place a few months before she started to go blind.  

When I moved out I moved Lady away from her pasture mates.  I regret that now, but at the time I didn't have a hope of ever riding her, without her being separated from the boys because they were all very herd bound.   A single strand of electric wire (rarely even hooked to a charger) kept her in.  I had Lady for 23 years before I made the very, very hard decision to put her down.

Lady outlived the two boys by a few years, but her last year was a difficult one.  I believe (now) that she most likely had Cushings.  At the time there was no internet access for easy 'diagnoses' and both vets that I consulted never mentioned this.  About two years before she died her coat became long and shaggy and I had to scissors most of it off because she wouldn't shed out.  Sometime after Christmas she started shying at things that would normally not even raise an eyebrow.  Then one day the pieces fell into place and it dawned on me she was going blind. I was heart sick.  I spent an entire day picking up rocks and other obstacles in her paddock and stringing yellow plastic rope to guide her on a path to the barn--for a while she could see enough to use this rope as a guide.

She did pretty good for awhile, but by summer she had developed a constant drainage from her nostrils.  Antibiotics and other drugs didn't cure it.  One vet said she 'probably' had tumors which had caused the eyesight loss and the constant drainage. She began walking in small circles in the pasture.  It was distressing to see her like this.   One day leading her out to pasture, her steps were heavy and her beautiful eyes were dull and I knew it was time.  She was 27 years old when I had her put down and we had spent 23 years together--good friends to the end.   

Lady was the horse I dreamed all my childhood of.  She was a one in million--maybe not the 'perfect horse' in conformation or talent, but the 'perfect horse' in gentle spirit.   I was lucky to get her and I think she was probably thinking she won the lottery to land in a 'soft' home where she only had to go out on leisurely rides a few times a week, and spend the rest of the time hanging out and eating.

It was a perfect match---a quiet sensible horse for a quiet and less than confident rider.  We had a good ride of it, we did.  I will always remember you Lady Bug.

My First Horse

Sunrise Surprise, Missouri Fox Trotter--My First Horse

Later in the year after my pony died, the serious search for a horse began. I had a little money saved and my parents would help me if needed. When searching for a horse, we did everything wrong. We got in a hurry...and we went to the horse auction. We happened to know the guy who helped run the auction, but in the end it did little to stop the inevitable.

The first auction we went to, (my Mom and Dad and me) there were only a few possibilities. One was a large grey mare who had split feet and a cranky attitude (but who could blame her?). The other was a pretty little chestnut gelding with a blaze face, tied up to the side of the stall. He was very mellow, with lip hanging and sleepy eyes. He was very pretty. Let's just say that my Dad was immediately taken with this horse. I thought he was pretty nice, and I wanted a horse real bad....

Dad kept circling back to the horse and we got some more information on him. He was two years old (sense a pattern here?) and saddle broke, and was a registered Foxtrotter gelding. I think we were warned from the auction owner about 'not wanting that horse', but we were caught up in the flow of horse buying. Sunny came in the ring and the bidding commenced hot and heavy. My heart sank as we only had so much to spend. Then suddenly he started bucking and pitching quite a fit. When the dust cleared guess who were the only ones still bidding? Yep.

On July 5, 1978, I had my first horse--Sunrise Surprise was mine for $325.00. Our neighbor was coincidentally there buying a pony for his kids, and we were able to arrange for him to haul Sunny along with the pony to our house--in a pickup with stock racks. By the time we got him home, it was dark and unloading him onto the bank of the yard was a bit tricky.

Okay, now remember when I mentioned he was tied up, lip drooping and sleepy eyed? Uhm...well in hindsight this is usually a good indication that a horse has been doped.

My Dad & Sunrise Surprise

So Sunny was home all bright eyed and bushy tailed. He was a sweet as could be and I rode him a few times with Dad hanging on to the halter. Sunny seemed a tad, well, unhappy about being rode, but we were sure that would ease as he became used to his new home. The last time I rode Sunny was again with my Dad holding onto him, as he still was awful prone to crow hop and want to go, go, go. That was the time that I missed the brick wall of a building by a few inches when he sent me flying. The 'surprise' in Sunrise was showing itself.

There was my first horse--all beautiful and sweet and unrideable--at least by me. So Dad said I'll take him and we'll buy you another. All he needed was some miles on him to get him to settle down...

I decided this would be a good plan. We put the word out to the auction owner and a few weeks later he called to tell us he had a couple of mares that had been brought in for the auction later in the week. Did we want to come try them out? Yes we did.

One of the mares was a --wait for it---two year old bay. She was very pretty...and high stepping and spirited. A couple of turns on her and I was ready for the next horse to ride. This one was a dull looking mare with a big belly, roached mane and a large scar on the side of her neck. She had a wide blaze face and three socks. Up on her I went, and was told she was 'dead broke'. Around and around we plodded, with nary a high step along the way. Yep. She was the one. I wanted dead broke, and I didn't care how she looked. She was four years old. On July 15, 1978 (my Mom's birthday) I got my second first horse--Lady.

As for Sunny, he never did ever really settle down. He was, er, quirky. He would be normal for several rides and then he would explode into a bucking, rearing fit. Nothing seemed to ever get him past that. One time he went over backwards with Dad in a ditch, and another time he threw Dad off when he saw his reflection in a plate glass window. My Dad landed on his feet on the pavement and ended up with an injured foot (which still bothers him to this day). Forget anyone else thinking they were going to ride him! The other side of Sunny was sweet, smart and mellow, and he had a beautiful carriage. He was a lucky horse and lived out his life with my Dad and Mom and was finally put down at age 26 from a twisted gut.

Next up in the horse chronicles---my life with Lady Bug. Dead broke and proud of it.

That Was Then......

1965

 One of the interesting things uncovered during the mad search for proof of the date when my house was built was this old photo.  It was featured in the School Annual for the year 1964-65, and had the honor of a four page spread.  There was a picture of the outside and several of the rooms inside (complete with cool looking 1960s teenagers).  I believe this picture was taken as soon as the addition was finished and the sidewalk was still curing! 

2012

 My house is the addition--if you look closely in the first photo you can see the front wall of the older part of the school rising up behind it.  The new part actually consisted of two sections of equal size with a hallway between.  The only part that survived the fire of 1972 was the east section that I now call home.  It is pictured below.  

As you can see the original structure had a flat roof which by the time I acquired it leaked like a sieve.  My Dad put a peaked roof on it in 1987.  In 2005 or 2006 I hired someone to come in and put a metal roof and end caps on it.   

The sidewalks are still there--just not as obvious--in the newer picture they are at the very edge of the outer part of the photo.  

Forty-eight years later not much has changed--except some trees, a new roof, an attached catio and of course the kitty staring out the window!   

A Tail of Three Tortis

A Tale of Three Torties for Torti Tuesday. (say that three times fast...)

First there was this Torti. This is Lucy. I snatched Lucy from her mother, Vera (a feral cat) at a young age and brought her up to my house to join her half brother and sister (Shiloh and Karma). That was in September of 1985. She never looked back and was certainly never inclined to be feral. She was always messing around in my business and followed every step I took. She was an outside cat, and the only cat I've ever had that would run down the driveway to the road to meet my car when I got home from work! Then she would run up the driveway in front of me, with tail held high. She was a great buddy to my first beautiful collie girl, Hanna. (A blue merle). They played and played constantly. When she was about five months old she pulled a very dirty trick on me and got herself pregnant. She was going in to be spayed after she reached six months. About two months later she popped out six little kittens (does this sound familiar?)--all hale and hearty. Yes, I kept them all, but they all were expressed to the vet's as soon as possible for their spay/neuter surgeries-as was their mother! Lucy was always a character and made a deep impression on me. When she was nine years old she disappeared. Later I found her body in a ditch off the highway, but I do believe it wasn't a car that killed her, but the neighbor's rifle. It was a very sad thing and she was missed immensely.

Lucy

Then in the year 2000, four years after Lucy died, this little imp moved into my life. She came squalling up out of the field next to my house from the dark. I told her to go away. She was very tiny, and she thought she would stay. So she did. I named her DesiLu in honor of Lucy. They looked very much alike. Desi was also a very devoted little kitty and a huge character. Her and Tibby (a kitty who was so timid she had no friends) became great buddies and played for hours every day. Desi helped Tibby over her timidity and Tibby eventually moved out from under the chicken house and down to the breezeway. Desi also loved the collies and especially became good chums with Jody. Sadly Desi's life although intense was very brief. She died at age 2 and a half from a blood disease. The fight for her life was brief, and she quickly faded away.

DesiLu

DesiLu

Being owned by a torti is a tough job as they expect you to be as dedicated to their lives as they are to yours. So when little miss priss, Tempe, came along, I decided right off---no more tortis!. You, little miss, will go to a new home somewhere else, when you are weaned. Yeah, right.

So I think we all know who the third Torti is, of course---Tempe. Complete with the Torti 'tude, she took over from day one and has never looked back. Temperamental, sweet, nosy, and in my business--yes, she is a Torti. I hope she graces my life for many more years to come.

Baby Torti-Tude--Tempe

These three girls are so full of similarities at times it has been weird. Their markings are not the same, and two of my girls have had orange-golden eyes (Lucy and Tempe) while little DesiLu had green eyes. I guess I'm meant to be owned by a Torti regardless of what I think, and that isn't such a bad thing--most of the time. (Hey! Tempe! Get down--what are you into now??)

Here's Tempe and Ashley---Uhm....not really, just kidding. This is actually DesiLu and Jody--good buds.

This is Tempe and Ashley--deja vu all over again, huh?
Also good buds.

Tempe says 'like the 'bean ever stood a chance the day I was born. The Torti Path had already been paved.'

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT---Free Giveway featured next month to celebrate a certain six's first birthday! More information to come.

Cindy

Cindy and Me--in the beginning...

Once upon a time there was a girl and her pony. The pony was very naughty sometimes, but was much loved.

I have always been a horse addict. Only in the last years has my interest strayed, and that mostly due to lack of time and safe riding areas. Alas, don't tell them, but sheep are not my first love.

When I was a kid, I was all about horses. I had my little plastic farm horses, I had my Breyers (which later turned into an extensive collection and years of showing them). I had my horse books. I took pictures of every horse along the highway with my little 110 camera, and what was worse was I knew where every horse was along the highway. Oh, and we can't forget the hours and hours and hours I spent drawing horse stories! When I got a little older, I convinced my Mom we needed to go to a horse show, and for several years horse shows became our weekend hobby. No we didn't show, we just watched! We'd park the car up by the arena, and put our blanket on the hood and with snacks from the cook shack we'd be prepared for a wonderful time. And we enjoyed it allot.

As a kid I spent a lot of my time crawling around pretending to be a horse (or tending to my large sprawling plastic farm)--so much so that I had huge callouses on my knees. Of course there were the stick horses too, and even the ones that got their sticks broken off --in wild bucking sprees no doubt--stayed in the string. They just became ponies.

My cousin and I had room to roam on their farm when we were kids and we invented ranches and horses and rich husbands.

In 1972 when I was nine years old, I went to town with my Mom one day. When we got back home, I got out and started to the house. About then my Dad and brother walked around the corner of the house with a little bay pony. Cindy had arrived. I had no idea that I was about to become owned by a pony! My Dad had bought her at the sale barn for $27.00 and she came out to our house in a big stock truck, and from what I was told it was a hairy ordeal. None the less she arrived in one piece. My Dad led me around on her and we went down to show our neighbor Ernie. Needless to say, I was thrilled to pieces and I'll never forget that moment when Dad led her around the corner of the house.

Right after we got her she somehow got loose in the barn. My Dad was at work, and I remember it was all high drama, and my Mom wouldn't let my brother or me go in the barn, as she bravely opened the door and went in to try and corral the unhappy wild little pony.

From what Dad was told, she had belonged to a couple of kids who had broke her and she was around two years old. Cindy was sorta broke...she wouldn't buck you off all the time anyway. She was not bit trained and came with a halter. Good neighbors gave me the saddle pad. See the big field in the background with me on Cindy? It was allot of fun riding her out there, but coming back was quite scary, with her in a full out, runaway gallop. Invariably she took me close enough to the pig pen to scare me to death.

Cindy really had no training, and I wasn't aggressive enough to be able to handle her well. A bridle with a bit helped, and my Dad tried some to get her more manageable. She was a smart little thing, and I dearly loved her, but she was very ornery and stubborn. We spent hours together--many with me on foot. When I got older I finally got over my fear and she had mellowed over the years too, so that there were several years when I rode her all over, even though I was pushing the 'almost too big for her' mark. I would even ride her with my first dog, Boots--a little cocker/peke/poodle mix--in my arms.

I spent hours grooming her and braiding her thick mane and tail and even bathing her. One time we had her shod--although I can't remember why--and I'm surprised she lived through it. Our friend shod her and he was very horse knowledgeable. I spied on them through a crack in the barn, and she was horrible about it all, and I think he was ready to kill her, I'm pretty sure I heard some swearing! ;-) Every one of her hooves was a different shape and size, and she kept those shoes on maybe a few weeks, tops. I still have some of her little horseshoes.

She was horrible on fences, and would pull down a good fence in minutes with her hooves. Periodically she would get out and take off for a little while. One time she was gone a whole day and was exhausted when she came back. That was the last time I remember her making a run for it. She hated dogs in her pasture and would nearly run them into the ground if she caught one out in the open. She also got this way towards my cousin and me which wasn't very funny. She was very possessive of her little piece of ground.

Over the years she colicked several times quite severely. The vet had to be called at least once and maybe twice. I remember walking her around and around during these episodes. She was only fed oats so she wouldn't founder and she loved her little pan of oats.

I learned allot from that little pony. I'm sure she had a solid dose of Shetland in there somewhere and much of the famed pony personality. I only had her six years, but somehow it seemed longer.

One winter she slipped on the ice and sprawled out with her front legs almost in a splits. She never recovered from that. We had the vet out and he said she was wormy and we dutifully wormed her. She lay in the barn most of the time and I sat with her for hours. Our neighbor gave us some good hay for her. She went out on pasture the morning that she died and we thought she was better. My sister and her family came for Sunday dinner and as they were leaving I went to check on my pony. Cindy was stretched out dead, and it looked like she had went peacefully. It was March 2, 1978.

I was inconsolable, as I loved that little bay pony so much. Even with all her quirks and attitude she was my buddy and we had allot of fun times together. We started out as just two little kids learning the ropes together. I had outgrown her and wanted a horse, but our pasture was small and I vowed I would never sell Cindy. I would just wait for a horse later.

Later that year in July I got my horse, twice, but that's Lady's story.....

Beautiful Bay Cindy

Whose Fault Is It......Really?

....that I have the potential to become (because I'm sure I'm not quite there yet...) the crazy cat lady? You be the judge.

Me and Hectorheshe (my Grandparent's cat)--way too many years ago.

And I had to throw in the next one too, because obviously I was torn between being a cat lady and a cowboy. Or maybe I just wanted to herd cats? This dress was my Cowboy Dress. And evidently I didn't want to give it up, because it appears I might have been growing out of it. I loved it only slightly less than my purple dress in the above picture.