Horse (Fairy) Diaries

Well, Fairfax (aka Fairy) has been with me nearly a year, and has finally agreed to have his comments posted. Provided they are accompanied by a photo showing his best side (he doesn't have a best side, and anyway, strictly speaking, it should be 'better' side. But I'll let that pass).

So. Fairy has a nice new rug. I took it in to show him this morning.

Me: Look! Lovely new indoor rug! Nice and cosy, and the colour suits you.
Fairy: I liked my old one.
Me: No you didn't. It was so big that it looked as though you were hiding under a tablecloth, and besides, you had trashed it. (How does a horse wreck a rug which is only worn indoors? I have no idea, and he's not telling).

I put the rug on him. It looked lovely, and fitted perfectly. Fairy was not impressed, so I led him out to the grass in front of the yard office to have a graze. I was holding the lead rope and dreaming, as you do, when Fairy suddenly plummeted earthwards.

Fairy (kicking his heels in the air): Just seeing whether it stays on when I roll about like this.

It did. It is now a very un-smart muddy rug, but he was pleased, and I suppose that's what counts. (I would add that this was only the second or third time in all the time I've had him that he has rolled while I'm holding him. He says it was pure coincidence. My own jury is still out.)

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Horse news

I've been very quiet on the horse front as all has not been plain sailing. First, Fairfax had an overreach (technical speak for a self- inflicted cut), and then was kicked, resulting in a nasty ( and hideously expensive) cut on his leg. He was having problems settling in, and none of this has helped.

So. Back to work this week, after another two weeks shut up in his box. All well - ish - until yesterday.

Off we set, with another horse for company. All well until companion became unsound. Don't worry, I said. You go back. Fairfax and I will carry on a bit further. 

Bad, bad decision.

It took Fairfax about thirty second to realise that we were on our own, and then all, and I mean all, the toys were thrown out of the pram. His is a big pram, with a lot of toys. He leapt in the air, and then bucked his way back to his companion and tried to gallop home.

" I didn't think you were going to stop!" said companion's rider.
Neither did I. But we did. And returned home in triumph (Fairfax) and shame (me).

"Don't ever, ever do that again!" said the lovely yard manager, who keeps an eye on me. 

I won't.

And Fairfax? He's just fine. Thanks for asking.

Horse diaries

Well, he's allowed out of his box at last, to eat grass (see photo). Phew! And today we went for our first little walk. With halter, and me leading. Well, Titch was leading, actually, but that wasn't the plan.

Me (pulling uselessly on the lead rope): What - do'you - think - you're - doing?!
Titch: Hey! It's great to be out on the open road again. I think I'll spook at that hedge, act terrified at that motorbike, and then do a little dance, right in the middle of the road.

Which he proceeded to do, doing his OMG act, although we have been down that road scores of times before. This was proving to be an exceptionally bad idea. The motorbike kindly stopped. Everyone stopped, while Titch twirled and pranced and then tried to trap me in the hedge. I tried to get at my mobile to phone for backup, but I couldn't reach it. We did a seventeen point turn in the hedge and started back down the road, with Titch still leaping about doing his thoroughbred thing and making a spectacle of us both. We got home. Just.

Titch: Well that was fun. Can we do it again?
Me: NO! (and because revenge can be sweet, I decided to get my own back). Last night I looked up your breeding on the internet.
Titch (pleased): Good, isn't it?
Me: Yes. And do you know how much it cost for your father to sire a foal?
Titch: A lot?
Me: Yes. A lot. $25.000
Titch (smug): I thought so.
Me: Ah, but do you know how many races you won, out of sixteen?
Titch (looking awkward): I can't remember.
Me: One. Just one. One lousy race. $25,000 dollars, and all that keep, and you win just one race.
Titch: Shall we talk about something else?

I guess we're now just about even.

Horse diaries (requested by the horse)

Titch: so you've finished that - that challenge thing?
Me: Yes
Titch: And you mentioned me?
Me: I told you I did!
Titch: Only my grandfather, though. Not me.
Me: That's near enough.
Titch: No pictures of me?
Me: I've done pictures of you!.

But Titch sighed. He was obviously disappointed. So I told me that for a limited period only, his photo could have pride of place on this blog.

Titch (pleased): Hmmm. Though I say it myself...
Me: You're always saying it. And okay. Yes. You're beautiful.
Titch: That's all right, then. Got any carrots?

Plus ca change.

Horse diaries

We returned from a lovely ramble - okay, dance - round the fields in the sunshine this morning. Titch had stopped shoving me round his box and was nuzzling my face.

Me: What do you want?
Titch: Well, since you're offering, a bit of grass? Just ten minutes? After all, it was my birthday yesterday (it was) and you forgot ( I did).

So I slip on his head collar, and hold the rope while he grazes on the patch of grass by his stable. With the sun on his back, he looks very cheerful

Titch: (between mouthfuls) So have you decided what to do with me yet?
Me: Not really. I suppose we could stop tearing about and concentrate on our flat work.
Titch: You mean, all that going round in cIrcles, and sideways and backwards, like some silly mare?
Me: That's about the sum oif it.
Titch: Boring.
Me: Too right it's boring. They do it in the Olympics, though.
Titch (brightening. He'll do anything for a bit of fame) : Are we good enough?
Me: We're both hopeless, and you know it.
Titch: Shall we just carry on as we are, then? I like it here.
Me: I like it here, too.

And this is so true. After the kind if week I've had (absolutely appalling. Don't ask), being around the horses and the horsey people makes everything so much better.

Titch (who can be quite wise sometimes, and who knows me well): I thought so. Got any carrots in the car?

Horse diaries (Yes. He's still here)

Titch: Oh. It's you.
Me: That's not much of a welcome after two weeks!
Titch: Any carrots?
Me: I wonder why I bother. I would have come last week, but the ground was frozen. On the one day when it wasn't, they phoned to say you were behaving so badly that it would be better not to. They said it took two of them to lead you up to the field.
Titch: (Brightening) Oh yeah. That was fun.
Me: That's not what I heard.
Titch: Well, they're wimps.
Me: You mean the same wimps who feed you, and look after you, and spoil you?
Titch: Yes. Well. I'm a thoroughbred, and my grandfather -
Me: I think we've all heard quite enough about your grandfather. He was a sucess; you are not. End of.

So off we set, down the road to the dairy. Horses love going to the dairy, not for any fondness for cows (Titch loathes cows) but because it's a short ride, usually for convalescent horses or bad weather conditions. At the moment, the ground is too risky to go anywhere else.

Titch (leaping about and snorting): OMG! What's that?
Me: That is some very small dogs in a locked car.
Titch: I don't like the sound of them.
Me: They're barking. That's what dogs do. They bark. You don't mind it when hounds bark!
Titch: That's different. Besides, hounds don't bark, they bay.

Titch can be such a snob sometimes. Anyway, we dance and snort our way to the dairy and back, and when we return to the yard, a nice family with three small children admire Titch and say how beautiful he is. Titch bridles (no pun intended) and sniffs them gently and is at his most endearing. Then he thumps me in the ribs with his very hard head.

Me: What was that for!?
Titch: Just to show you I'm not going soft. Because of those foals.
Me: Children. Human beings don't not have foals. They have children.
Titch: Children then. (Sighs). Got any more carrots?

Horse diaries

Titch: You've changed your mind again, haven't you?
Me; Well...
Titch: Go on. Admit it.
Me: I might have. But that woman didn't really want you, anyway. She said you were badly schooled.
Titch: WHAT!!?
Me: Well, it's true.
Titch (defensively: Alan Sugar was badly schooled and he's done a lot better than you have.
Me: There's no need to make this personal. Besides, I don't want to run a computer business, and if I were Alan Sugar, I'd be able to afford a much better horse than you. Several, in fact.
Titch: I always know when I've won. You get all defensive.(Pause). Got any more of those carrots?

Horse diaries

No. He hasn't gone yet. He's kind of "under offer". Kind of. But no sign on his stable door to that effect. Yet.

Meanwhile, lovely Gemma, my son's girlfriend, says she'd like to come riding with us. Fine. We have to go with a hack, because she hasn't ridden at the yard before. Also fine. But J and his horse P are coming too. Not so fine, because Titch cannot stand P.

Titch: Is HE coming with us?
Me: Yes. D'you have a problem with that?
Titch: Yes. He's a nasty common animal, and I don't want to be seen out with him.
Me: Well, that's tough. Just get over yourself, will you? P is nice, and well-behaved, and could teach you a thing or two.
Titch: Whatever. (Titch likes to sound like a teenager, and since on February 24th he will actually be one, I suppose that's excusable. Just.)

So off we set. Four of us. Over the hills and far away in the pouring rain and gusty wind. Horses don't like wind. Or rain. Especially (says Titch) thoroughbred horses. With famous grandfathers. For a while, he behaves reasonably well. Then -

Titch: (Leaping and prancing after tearing up a hill) It's cold and wet. I'm just hating this.
Me: Well, we've got half-way. so you're just going to have to stick with it or we won't get home.
Titch: P is trying to overtake me.
Me: So?
Titch: I'll show him!

Which he does, to the considerable discomfort of his rider (me) who has some difficulty in stopping him. We pause at a gate, and Titch tries to kick P. Twice.

Me: What did you do that for?
Titch: Only what he deserves. Next time I won't miss.
Me: There won't be a next time, and we'll go over here on our own so you can't kick anyone.
Titch: Blah blah blah...

Titch leaps and dances all the way home, muttering about breeding and manners (manners!) and being judged by the comany he keeps. Meanwhile, I am becoming more and more sure that selling him is the best idea I've had in years. When we get back, I'll stick a large SOLD notice on his door. That'll teach him.

But when we get back, Titch (warm and dry in his two rugs, up to his belly in nice clean straw, his issues with poor P forgotten) whickers very sweetly for his carrot, and although he doesn't deserve a treat, I give him two.

Bloody animal. Oh dear. I wish someone would make my mind up for me...

The horse diaries - end in sight

Me (nonchalantly, because a panicking horse is not to be trifled with): I've had an offer for you.
Titch: (speaking with his mouth full): Oh? (no panic, then) How much?
I tell him.
Titch: WHAT!!!??? I was sold for ten times that only a few years ago.
Me: Well, you were probably worth ten times more then.
Titch: I'm much more mature now.
Me: No you're not. You know perfectly well you're not.
Titch: How about stud? I'd enjoy that.
Me: Titch, we've discussed that before. You know you can't...you've had...you know... that little operation?
Titch: You can be very cruel sometimes.
Me; You're in good comany. All your neighbours have been...done.
Titch: But I'm well bred!
Me: So are lots of them. You just weren't very successful.
Titch: I bet you haven't had any operations like that. I bet you've had foals. You have, haven't you?
Me: Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I have.
Titch: Are you well bred?
Me: Not really.
Titch: Did your grandfather win all his races?
Me: I'm not sure my grandfather did a lot of running.
Titch: Well, then. (Munch.) I'll have another of those carrots, if it's not too much to ask.

Sarcasm doesn't suit him, but I let it pass. The offer stands, and I'm trying to decide whether to accept it. This whole situation is very painful. Titch can be a bugger, but I do love him.

Horse Diaries - the beginning of the end

Titch is doing that coy thing he does; not quite lookng me in the eye, but hoping for a treat. I give him a carrot.

Me: Titch, it's crunch time.
Titch: Only way to eat a carrot. You should try it.
Me: I'm not talking about carrots. I'm talking about you.
Titch: Oh yes?
Me; I really am going to have to let you go. I've thought and thought, and it's crazy that someone of my age is careering round the countryside on a mad thoroughbred.
Titch (bridling - no pun intended): I'm not mad!
Me: Yes you are. We both know you are.
Titch: I'm just highly-strung.
Me: That too.
Titch: Oh. (Further crunching). What will you do with me?
Me: Well, there's someone interested in you. Nice poeple, and they hunt with the Beaufort.
Titch(brightening): The Beaufort, eh? My grandfather...
Me: Yes, yes. We all know about your grandfather. But this sounds just the place for someone like you.
Titch: Plenty of food? Carrots? That kind of thing?
Me: I'm sure there will be. So when they come to see you, you must behave nicely. None of that ridiculous leaping about, no spooking, and don't push them around asking for treats.
Titch: Moi? Leaping about? Never!
Me: That's the spirit. (I stroke his nose).I'll miss you.
Titch: Of course you will. Got any more carrots?

Animals can be very unfeeling sometimes.

Horse diaries

Titch likes to mess about. He prances up to other horses in the field, and nips them on the bum. This doesn't always go down well. Today, he has a cut on his knee where he's been kicked.

Titch: We're not going out, are we? I've got this sore knee.
Me; It's just a little cut. You'll be fine. Have you been in another fight?
Tich: Yeah. You should see the other guy!
Me: No-one else has been injured. Just you.
Titch: Oh, Is that right?
Me: That's right.
Titch: And we're going out?
Me: Too right we are.
Titch: Can we go to the dairy?
Me: Okay. We'll go to the dairy.

The dairy is a route much beloved of all the horses because it is short. It's the convalsescent route for those recovering from colic, minor injuries or whavever. Titch loves it, and as we set out, he completely forgets his sore knee. We bounce along the road, shying at everything in sight, and when we meet a woman in a bright orange coat, he turns tail and canters off down the road. With some difficulty, I pull him up and apolgise to the woman, who is looking startled.

Me: What on earth was that about?
Titch: You know I hate orange.
Me: I think you're feeling a lot better.
Titch: No, I'm not. I've got his sore knee....By the way, are you still thinking of...of ...getting rid of me?

I think about the huge bill I've just paid the stable. Then I look at Titch's glossy coat, his big dark eyes, his long legs and his ridicuously kissable nose. And I sigh.

Me: No. Of course I'm not.

Horse diaries - the beginning of the end?

Titch was in an appalling mood this morning, skulking at the back of his box, then trying to chuck his rug over the barrier into his nieghbour's box. You get the picture.

Me: Titch, we need to talk.
Titch: Humph.
Me: No, really.
Titch (flicking an ear): I'm listening.
Me: This isn't easy, but I'll give it to you straight. I may have to let you go.
Titch (flinching): Not...not...the vet with the... you know...?
Me: Of course not! I'm talking about a new home.
Titch (munching hay): Oh. That's okay, then.
Me: You don't mind?
Titch: Will I be fed? Will I still get three meals a day?
Me: Of course you will.
Titch: I'm cool with that. Will you tell my new owners about my grandfather? Will they know who I am?
Me: It'll all be on your papers.
Titch: Papers, eh? That's good.(Pauses). Not crying, are you?
Me: Of course not. Something in my eye.

Horses can be very heartless sometimes.

Horse diaries

Not only has he been lame (better now) but he also had colic yesterday. They wanted to get the vet, but I said, wait. He does this, and then by the time the vet comes, he says, "tummy ache? What tummy ache? It wasn't me" (I think he's trying to avoid that thing where the vet sticks his entire arm up...well, you get the picture). And afterwards, there's a huge bill to pay.

So off we set today, in the sunshine. Lovely fields of golden stubble; everything fine. Two children's bikes on the verge caused an OMG moment (we galloped noisily away down the road to escape them), and a tent in a garden, ditto. And wheelie bins.

And a deer.

Me: Now, don't be silly. We know about deer. And they're much smaller than you. And look - that one's actually running away from you.
Titch: But it's leaping up and down! Why's it leaping up and down?
Me: It's a deer thing. It's what deer do.
Titch: I don't leap up and down!
Me: No. Because you're not a deer. Besides, you certainly do leap up and down. What about those bikes and that tent?
Titch: That was different. Besides, I've not been very well.

All in all, he seems a whole lot better.