TOABH: I'm a Loser, Baby

I'm A Loser, Baby

Let's talk about your horse's biggest fail.  What did Thunderhooves do that embarrassed you, scared you, shocked you or just annoyed the hell out of you?

Ozzy: There's no denying that Ozzy and I have had our ups and downs. He drove me to tears on a regular basis for a long time. Nothing seemed to come easy to him, and he was willful, stubborn, and too smart for his own good. That is how I ended up with him after all.

But the number one story that comes to mind is our first fifty. We went up to the Allegheny mountains in NY for the now non-existent Hornswaggle. 

Right from the very beginning, Ozzy was a holy terror. The night before the ride, he deliberately, and for no reason that we could see, decided to rip his temp. pen out of the ground. He actually rocked back on his hindquarters, sizing up the electrified fence, and seemed to count to three before tearing the entire thing out by the stakes, setting himself and Jen's mare, Sunday, free. He tore up the pipeline and into the wilderness at a dead gallop, and I really thought I'd seen the last of him. Eventually, he hit a scary-looking water crossing and turned back. He then tore through camp, upsetting the other horses and wreaking havoc as he went. I couldn't get near him. I was angry and mortified. Sooner or later he was caught... by a young boy with a cookie.

The very next morning, Ozzy was extremely full of himself at the start. Thankfully, Kevin and Patti Pizzo took pity on me and offered to ride the start with me. Ozzy seemed to enjoy the company of their horses, Bob and Vallen O Mine and soon settled. 

Just as I thought he'd gotten over the worst of his antics and made the mistake of relaxing, he threw one massive buck. One buck was all it took, and I went flying over his head onto the muddy, wet ground. 

I vaguely remember thinking, "Damned if I'm going to let him get loose twice at the same ride!" I stubbornly clung to the reins as Ozzy dragged me hither and yon, trampling and kicking me as he went. Eventually, the collective cries of everyone at ridecamp shouting, "LET HIM GO!!!" came through, and I released my death grip on the reins.

Ozzy tore up the pipeline again. This time, he was caught by an elderly gentleman with a waist-length beard, who agreed to give me my horse back on one condition: I had to promise not to throttle him on the spot.

I was angry, both at myself and at Ozzy. I was hurting pretty badly physically, but mostly I was horribly humiliated. I have never had a more public fall. 

But I wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet. Despite the fact that I was dirty, bruised, and feeling pretty sheepish, I honored the kind man's request not to kill my own horse. Instead, I threw a leg over and trotted him up the side of the mountain for the start. 

We went on to complete that 50, and it was more than a little bit challenging. We rode hard and learned a lot about each other. We slogged through knee-deep mud, got rained on, and had to walk a lot of the course because the footing was garbage. At the holds, ride camp ran out of horse water, and I threw a fit because my horse was hot and tired and deserved a fresh, cold drink.

At the end of the day, we crossed the finish line alone. Ozzy was sweaty and caked in mud. I was sore from my fall and had skid marks on my breeches to prove it. But we were both grinning, and I had already forgiven him.

The photo of our finish that day hangs framed in our living room, right above the TV.

JR: JR, thankfully, has been much more reliable than Ozzy was in our early days together. His number one fault is that he'll occasionally refuse a jump. It's almost always when a rider jumps ahead and puts him in a bad spot. The refusals are rarely dirty or violent, but his lack of neck means people have a hard time staying on when he slams on the brakes. I came off of him myself once when he hit the brakes coming up to an oxer we'd done several times already during that particular ride. I was lawn darted through the fence, leaving the jump still standing. My helmet was ripped apart and I wound up with a mean black eye.  

He has dropped a few students on their heads too. Riding JR will definitely teach you to wait for the jump.

But the single most embarrassing thing JR has ever done was the hunter pace last spring. I brought him because it was Arrow's first time out, and I wanted to set a good example. I left Ozzy at home so he wouldn't cause any trouble.

While Kristin and I were signing in, Arrow kicked JR next to the trailer. JR flew back, broke his halter, and got loose in the parking area. I wasn't concerned initially because the pony is very food motivated. I gathered up a bucket full of cookies and asked people not to chase him. They tried to corner him anyway, and after doing the typical pony-esque evasion, JR decided he wasn't in the mood to humor the humans. He jumped a trailer hitch and made a break for it.

"He won't leave the other horses!" I called.

He did.

"He won't go past the treeline!" I swore.

He did.

"He's too lazy to go far..." I hoped out loud.

My patented Fat!Pony took off at a dead gallop, tearing across the nearby polo field with his tail flagged like a middle finger. He galloped three miles into the woods before coming to a stop, and it took Mike and me a very long time to track, find, and capture him.

I rode him back to the starting line bride-less, let him recoup for half an hour, then rode the hunter pace without any further drama.

The only saving grace was that he didn't gallop across the country club's golf course in the process of fleeing civilization.

"Hey, I'm a horse trainer! This is my lesson pony! Trust me with your children!"

Thanks a lot, JR.