The Super-Update Post

So, yes, I have indeed been silent for a while, and I suppose it would hardly make sense to pretend that things have been smooth-sailing in the interim. I absolutely hate when things hedge into the dramatic and prefer to keep the fuming limited to my head, because when my giant, pompous opinion hits air, shit is sure to hit the fan. But I'll try to vaguely recap some of the things that have been happening in the past few weeks and things that are starting to happen that I'm super excited for!

But, first, the bad news. Remember the pasture dilemma I was in? Yeah, well that ended not-so-great. The decision was made The only choice I was offered was to put Spartan in with the freak horse, Castro. I can go on for 10 days about why this was bullshit, but I digress. It really is too bad, because the first day I led Spar in there booted up and mentally prepared for my horse to acquire a new series of bodily orifices, he and Castro were PERFECT. I mean, it honestly could not have gone any better. Spartan stayed away from Castro and his mare, and Castro stayed away from Spartan and his shenanigans, and all the horses just looked at each other, shrugged, and started grazing like it was another day at the office. I was floored. This is the same horse who had always reared and screamed at me whenever I walked by the fence line with Spartan?? Really??

I should've known it was too good to be true, though, because when I came back to the barn after the long-weekend, my horse refused to let me lead him down the hill past Castro's "territory" at the bottom of the pasture. Okay, he must just be screwing around with me--I give the leadrope a few insistent tugs to get his butt in gear--and he proceeds to flip out in a fat, spinning, flailing-every-which-way tantrum that nearly turns me into lawnmower clippings and frazzles the shit out of me.   And then, when I think things can get no better, Castro catches wind of this discussion and C H A R G E S me. At a dead gallop. Ears pinned. I might be able to count his front teeth. Are you fucking serious right now. One of the feeders had to run into the pasture and fend him off so I could lead my horse out of there. I was seriously livid, guys, and the situation only got worse because that asshole horse essentially refused to let Spartan come down the hill to be fed or drink water, ever, and I had multiple people telling me that my horse had not eaten for several days. I couldn't even take Spartan in or out of the pasture without a lunge whip because I was genuinely concerned for my safety between my panicking horse and the pinto devil-stud. Call me crazy but I've been pretty vocal about my intentions to survive through at least Semester 1 at UVA. And that was IT. Right there. I was d-o-n-e listening to other people telling me how to take care of my horse, and insisting that I should keep him in conditions that are perfectly identical to when he colicked while I was in India. Because obviously this is the best way to treat his lack-of-self-preservation-and-retarded-decion-making-disorder, and whatevs to my next emergency vet bill, right? Or I could grow some balls and TAKE CARE OF MY OWN DAMN HORSE.

Yep, so I pulled him out of there and called probably every single nice barn in town, because shit's jacked man. Seriously, if the barn doesn't want my horse, that's cool, I'll just take him somewhere that does. I was pulling up my big-girl panties and rapidly realizing that I did not need to live my horse-life for other people's approval or expectations. Interestingly, though, after talking to some people I figured out that the Upper Barn we have on the property is being leased to a cool Western trainer guy, and that I could keep Spartan up there with him through a completely separate and independent contract, woohoo! I moved Spartacles pony up there pronto and he's now, shockingly, in a stall and, even more shockingly, doing GREAT! (*knochonwood* ad infinitum) He has a nice-sized stall with a roomy paddock attachment and [gelding] neighbors and, I daresay, a rather nice view. I have no idea how he's doing so fabulously in a stall right now, because in my past experiences with this setup he has unequivocally turned into a fire-breathing megalosaurus of great infamy to barn-goers. But it is working. Thank you, thank you universe. He is SOUND. He has been a dream to ride, and I've been trail riding him all over the property by himself, the first time in a year, and he is a damn rock.

-Trot over that log.

Okay mom, sure. I'll jump it all cute too, okay?

-Now up and down this bank.

I've never really seen this steppy thingy before but okay, is this good?

-Over this ditch in the ground.

This might not actually be my favorite activity, are you sure you didn't mean go this way? Or that way, maybe? Okay this thingy for sure then? Okay, it actually looks kind of cool if you look at it like this and hop over.

He's just so completely aware of me riding him and careful about his reactions so he never unseats me--I swear, a gem. I'm so lucky to own him, it's gross. Will Coleman, here we come!

Lesson of the Day? I am a free agent. Neither I nor my horse belong to any man. I am the ultimate decider. UVA says I have enough brain cells to cultivate my own opinions and should indulge in such activities as an incipient and aspiring adult in this world. I have lost sight of the shore. And.it.feels.damn.GREAT. :)

His new nifty turnout that he gets 4x/week

His new stall and (muddy)paddock on a rainy day

Oh hai mom! Feed meh speedily.