He did great getting out of the trailer, just backed right out, and then stood there nicely -- no histrionics no slinging his head around, wall-eyed while he pranced like a dork. Very calm and level. Linda, the owner-lady is lending me her saddle (western) for the trial period, so I at least have something to ride him in, but I just don't like western saddles. I don't get it -- unless I am roping a cow, I don't get the point. Anyhow yeah.
So of course I had a hair appointment in the city that day at 11:30, so I got Dakota comfortable - (I think I my call him Dak; Dakota is too ... meah.) Introduced him to his paddock and everything then went and got my hair done and then drove back to the barn for a ride. I am taking it very easy, mostly walking until I get past the saddle sore stage.
I lunged him and he does that really well, however I was not paying attention or something at first and the very first thing I did was get a finger caught in a kink in the line and twisted the hell out of it. So I have had my first injury.Day two, Sunday:
I got to the barn at about 9:30 - put Dak in the arena so he could have a good roll,
and got to cleaning out the paddock (a daily must at this barn; part of the deal). While I was doing that this other boarder, Leslie, drove up. She is the woman who owns that Percheron gelding I rode a few times until she annoyed me so much I decided it wasn't worth it. She also drives a bright yellow Hummer. She is notorious at the barn for only occasionally showing up, leaving Sharon's elderly husband (OLD man, he is OLD.) to clean Blue's paddock. Well, she saw me there and decided that she was going to groom Blue, then bareback him a bit around the arena. Anyhow she did a thousand little things that just seemed needle-y and annoying, but nothing you could actually call her on; you know stuff where it would me me who was unreasonable, not her. Okay, so moving on. Eventually I got in the arena and lunged and rode Dak, and he was a little squirrely, and challenged me on a couple of things -- nothing out of the ordinary, and never crazy or aggressive. So she kept going on and on about "Ooh, he is not so docile, is he? You better be careful you aren't sold a crazy horse -- they have this drug that calms them down that takes a month to wear off" blab blab blab.
Sharon, the barn owner, had gone into the loft to find a saddle she was storing in a plastic storage bin, and she hadn't sealed the container completely so a family of mice got in -- so when she opened the bin, a mouse jumped out. Sharon gave a little startled scream. Leslie, who was standing six feet in front of my horse let out a piercing giggly scream that obviously went a beat or two longer than it should have. Not that an idiot standing six feet in front of a new, unfamiliar green horse should be screaming at all. Dak was a champ, though--and while of course he reacted to the loud sound by tossing his head back, he did not crush me as he very well could have in the tie stall. Then, I swear to god SHE DID IT AGAIN. Only a little bit longer this time. Apparently mice you can't even see, across the barn in the loft are worth a FORTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD WOMAN TO SCREAM. TWICE.
Unperterbed. Looking like a mule, but still. Since she couldn't get my horse to fucking kill me, she sort of wandered away, to chat with this other lady who was there. She sat in her Hummer with the engine running leaning out the window for at least a half an hour having a high ol' time yakking it up. Oh, and the best part? She has a yappy fucking dog who barked in the car the entire time she was there.
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