You have been warned.
This post will be angsty, warranted or not.
I will not be offended if you choose not to read it.
Hell, I am sick to death of the thoughts in my head.
I would not blame you for not volunteering to sign up as well.
The past 10 days of post-back injections rehab have been glorious.
My pony has walk-trot-cantered his little heart out on the lunge.
He has looked fantastic. His coat has been gleaming. His transitions are spot on.
He has been HAPPY. Happy to walk. Happy to trot. Happy to CANTER.
In the ring, in the grass. Tra-la-la-la F'ing LA.
A fellow boarder commented on how goofy and happy Boca seemed.
It is a whole side of his personality no one at the new barn has ever had the opportunity to experience before.
I thought we were getting somewhere. I got excited.
I thought "Maybe this might actually work!!!"
I made plans to find a new saddle. A better saddle. A saddle that would better fit his precious pony back. Who cares if it works for me or not. I created devious scenarios in my mind, in which I could convince my husband that we NEEDED to spend yet more money IMMEDIATELY to find the right saddle.
I searched eBay and used tack websites feverishly. I made an appointment with a local brand rep to come out on Wednesday. I mentally made plans, then canceled plans to drive 1.5 hours up to New Hampshire to bring home some saddles on trial.
Yesterday, June 1st was to be the first day Boca was to go back under saddle after 10 days of rehab.
Do you know how long 7 consecutive days of lunging feels like?
I can say with all honesty that I have never lunged 7 consecutive days in my life.
And I hopefully never will again.
Of course, the day for me to get back in the saddle, the temperature dropped 30 degrees and it was raining.
When I brought out the saddle instead of the lunge equipment, Boca started grinding his teeth in the cross ties. AWESOME BEGINNING.
I was trying out the BO's Bates Caprilli, which actually seems to fit his massive shoulders and short back, y'know, without me actually in the tack.
I'm not sure what I expected. I didn't think I had an conscious expectations of our first ride back, but judging from my level of disappointment, clearly I did.
I lunged Boca under saddle first. I knew logically that the combination of the 30 degree drop, a day off, and a return to the indoor was probably not the best set up for a triumphant return to under saddle work.
When I got in the saddle, he definitely felt different. It's hard to describe, but his back felt squishy and wobbly. He definitely felt less stable in the area. Maybe I am so used to him holding it still and not using it?
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Aside from some random teeth grinding, the walk and the trot were OK.
Not great. Not spectacular. There were no random kick-outs, no tail swishing.
But there was a definite lack of desire to go forward.
The canter had the same explosive upward transitions, where he launched himself upwards with his shoulders. There was no bucking or crowhopping.
I guess in general what is upsetting to me was that he was, in general, NOT HAPPY to do the work.
He's clearly happy on the lunge.
Under saddle, not so much.
Here are the fun thoughts currently playing through my mind.
Are you ready? This is where the PMS comes in.
1. I weigh too much for Boca. He'd be better with a smaller/lighter rider.
2. He has EPM and needs to be put down (thank you, too much time on internet chat boards)
3. I should just be content to w/t for THE REST OF MY LIFE AND NEVER EVER CANTER OR JUMP AGAIN.
4. I should buy a carrot stick and start pursuing Parelli excellence. Cause at least he's happy on the ground. Bring on the bag on a stick and level 4 Games.
5. I should call an animal communicator and really get to the bottom of this.
6. I should put him on a timeline. If we can't canter in 90 days, he goes.
I'm upset. I'm frustrated. I'm discouraged. I'm unreasonable.
I JUST WANT A HAPPY HORSE THAT CAN CANTER -- IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK???
I have spent a fortune in diagnostics. My husband is at his limit, money-wise and seeing me down about another bad experience.
I just... am tired of the thoughts in my head. Tired. Tired of trying to figure out what the hell is wrong. Tired of spending SO MUCH MONEY trying to simply w/t/c.
Rant over. Pass the ice cream.