Change, Dogs and Horses

A lot can happen in six weeks, and one thing is that I have aged three years in these past six weeks. Odd how stress and loss can alter a person’s physical well-being. I moved, along with my husband, three dogs, and one horse. I’ve left behind the old Appy, and struggle with that. I brought the paint horse, Reo, and he has had to endure dramatic changes in his life. It’s been hard on all of us, but I hope now that we are “settled” in our new environment that some sort of peacefulness will begin and we will all learn to enjoy our new lifestyle.

My loss is simply with material items, some that I felt were cherished mementos given to me by family members. I have hung on to my sister, Debra’s things because they bring her closer to me, even though she’s been gone for over 15 years. I have gifts my kids gave me that I feel wrong about giving away to strangers. I have stuffed animals that each represent an experience that needed warmth. I have photographs from my childhood that my mother saved, and now I save them. For what? Not sure. I put life into “things” and thus feel cruel discarding them. Such a childish way to live at my age. Hard to let go, as they say, with memories.

The new townhouse is much smaller than our last few homes, but it’s settled now and I am comfortable. It is rather nice to have less to maintain: no yard work, vacuum cord reaches all rooms, not so much to dust, easy kitchen clean-up, and so on. One good thing, we have managed to keep a good portion of our art work, and that pleases me.

The dogs really gave up most, I think. They used to have a big house and a private, fenced yard with free access from the house to the yard . Now they have had to learn to go to a patio door and scratch, or yip, or stare until we respond with the leashes and go out with them. They do seem to enjoy the constant contact with us, however, except perhaps Chloe, who misses her early morning free roaming. The old dog, Jake, appears to like the leash walks, except he took sick this week and struggles with the short walks. He is excited to go out, but disappointed at his own lack of energy. He is failing, but still wants to live.

As I said, the old horse, Buddy, is still in Georgetown at my friends small farm. He is still madly in love with the big mare Bella, and content with his life. I go visit him every couple of weeks, but that is not enough for me. I could go more often, but I have grown to dislike the drive, even though it’s only a little over an hour. (That is another thing that tells me I am rapidly aging.). I am still seriously thinking of moving him up here so that I can care for him properly. Last visit I was not happy with the rain rot that had developed on his back. Other than that, he looked healthy, although a little thin. He is, I must remind myself, 32 years old. If I could find a small place up here where he could have a nice pasture mate, I just might move him. Especially if my friend sells Bella, as she is thinking of doing.

Reo’s new home is much more rustic than he, or I, are used to. It is hilly, rocky, full of trees, weedy pastures, and over 130 acres. The horses are very well cared for, not pampered, and relaxed. The drive, 16 miles, is not my favorite thing, and I try to use the time to think good thoughts, but mostly I grumble to myself. Reo is pastured with mares, and his demeanor has changed quite a bit. He never cared if I took him out of the pasture when he was with his old gelding herd. But now I have to listen to him neigh, and paw the ground, and move all over. It’s been six weeks and I see little improvement. I have asked that he be put with only geldings, but they tell me is is aggressive toward them. That is a new thing, and I’m sure it is because of the presence of the mares. I will have to solve this soon so that I can enjoy riding him. He is still slightly lame, so can’t do much anyway. I find I have lost some confidence in him, which means I better get my own act together and demand his attention!

So, a new environment for humans, for dogs, and for horses.

Buddy and Reo; Separation

Two days ago I went to visit Buddy. He was swatting flies away as he and his two companions stood in the shade of a large oak tree. I called to him, he looked, and then obviously did not think I was worth leaving the shade for, as he simply stood there and gazed at me. So I grabbed his halter off the stall and opened the gate to enter the pasture, all the while calling and whistling. When I got within three feet of him, he finally decided to walk over to me. He lowered his head for the halter, and quite nicely walked with me back to the gate, through the gate, and directly into the barn and into his stall. There was a little bit of Purina Equine Senior left in his feed trough, so he began eating. I added some Purina Omelene to the pellets, and his level of eating increased with enthusiasm. He used to love his midday feeding, so the combination of sweet feed and an afternoon snack was a happy occurrence for him.

Meanwhile, Bella and Toby had wandered up to the gate, neighing for their “leader” to come back. I thought for sure Buddy would be anxious to get back to them, but it appeared the Omolene was more enticing. When he had cleaned up the feed trough, he walked out of the stall (which I had neglected to close) and stood in the aisle way waiting for me to snap the lead line on his halter and take him back out. I did just that, and as we approached the gate Buddy did a slight neck arch, a deep-throated neigh and reached out to touch nose-to-nose with Bella. She responded as if to say, “Well, it’s about time.” I opened the gate, Bella moved over, Toby stood a few feet away, and I led Buddy through the gate and into the pasture. He lowered his head for me to remove the halter, and off they walked together.

Yesterday I traveled to Reo’s barn to check on him and make sure the grazing muzzle was still on. It was. I whistled and yelled out his name. He lifted his head, turned and began walking toward me. I knew it wasn’t for my smiling self that he came, but rather for the cookies in my pocket, and that he knew I would remove the muzzle and allow him to graze on the rich yard grass. I really do know this horse…he’s a horses horse! And I love him for that. He has lost much of the Spring fat he had gained, and his black coat was glistening in the sunlight. He looked very, very impressive. If he didn’t have such high withers, he would have quite the perfect conformation to match the four white stockings, a few white spots here and there on his body, and a beautiful, strong head. He enjoyed his grazing time and ignored me completely, even as I told him he only had a few more days left in this home. His two gelding pals watched as Reo chewed the clover and blue grass, and I felt sad that I was taking him away from them. They are his shadows, and neigh for him whenever I remove him from the field. Sometimes we humans do not realize the discomfort we cause our animals. They have their relationships and needs, much like we do. So my happiness about the new home Reo is going to is tempered by the loss I am causing to these other creatures. I can’t enjoy too much, because sadness overcomes my emotional state. I’m a silly old woman, I know.

Today I’m home, packing boxes. My house is a mess, in complete disarray, with boxes everywhere. In five days I will be sleeping in a new, smaller home. I need this move to end so that I can stop leaving something, but rather begin something. Soon…soon!

Reo, Pain, Exhaustion

Exhaustion. That’s what I feel right now. Yesterday I had Reo checked out for his head bobbing /lameness issue. I trust my vet, so he says Reo is simply thin soled and needs shoes. Nothing serious except he should wear shoes during riding season. I was relieved, but it seems too simple. I’ll give a try on that, and hope he’s right. Better for Reo and better for me, not to mention my pocketbook.

So, while he’s sore on his left front foot, I’m pretty much sore all over. My damn knees are bothering me, my hip bones ache, my back causes me to bend, and I’m just generally annoyed with my body. In fact, I went on a peanut butter eating binge in frustration with my aches, my unclear brain processes, and whatever. So today I stopped. Control is the word. Control my mind and turn off the excuse part. Eat right, think right, exercise right, and get back on track riding and rebuilding those muscles that keep the pain away from my joints. And keep packing those boxes.

So, Buddy was last seen by me on Mother’s Day. I brought his Equioxx to the barn, cleaned his stall, and looked over the fence at him. No point in bothering him, as I could see he was contentedly grazing on the new spring grass, with Bella and Toby nearby. I could have called him in, but felt he was happier being left alone. It’s hard sometimes to accept he’s a horse and not my partner. I can see how it would be so easy to neglect an animal like Buddy, you just forget about them because they’re not with you. I know he’s taken care of and loved in his present home, and maybe I’m just jealous he doesn’t need me. It’s hard for me to not see him everyday. But he’s fine, just fine!

Now I’m concentrating on packing boxes for the imminent move. Boxes everywhere….in my office, in my kitchen, in my family room, and so on. The ladies helping me get rid of stuff are holding a garage sale this weekend. All our junk is out in the garage for others to rummage thru to see if there is anything they want: Paint cans, books, clothes, table cloths, tools, horse blankets, pots, and more. Since I think there’s nothing worthwhile, I’m not sure why others want it. Garage sales are weird, in my opinion. But, if the ladies want to create a garage sale, and make a few hundred dollars, then more power to them. It’s just not my thing. Period.

In a few days, Reo will be moving to his new home, and we will follow the day after. I’m sure he will be miserable….I’m sure we will be miserable, too. Voices raised as we try to handle the turmoil in our lives. It will be worth it, for us and for Reo.

But, I must admit, I am exhausted and feeling the strain of this move. I think I have to realize that I’m not as agile and capable as I once was, but I am still in pretty good shape mentally, so that should take care of it. I’m excited, for us, for Reo! And even for the dogs. Just found out there’s a dog park at our new neighborhood, so Chloe and Nellie will have free time off the leash. Yeah. Jake will just be happy there is no hardwood floors for him to slide on. Carpet everywhere just for him.

In one week all will be changed, and a new life for this old woman, three dogs, one husband, and one paint horse will be taking place. Can’t wait!

Buddy, Reo, me, sorrow

You know, it’s hard to blog when your mind is filled with so much activity. I haven’t spent the amount of time with the horses that I should, because I am so involved with this moving process. I did head over to Buddy’s barn to check on him and give him some snacks, and noticed that his hooves are very long, but still round and not splintering. I have arranged for the farrier to come this coming week to trim him. It’s not good for a horse’s hooves to grow out too long. It puts excess strain on his muscles and ligaments, especially in the shin and pastern area. Also, his eye socket is dirty, and so I need to take a bucket of warm water to the barn and wash it out. He doesn’t like me to mess with that eye socket. I think it must still have sensitivity inside it, but nothing like when he had that infected eye and his eye wept all the time. That’s why we removed it. The Euvitis was so very painful. His demeanor changed right away after the eye removal. It must have been so painful, and it must have been a relief to be without pain. Now I believe it’s just nerve endings in the skin layer covering the socket that are sensitive. So, I promised him this coming week he will be taken care of. You know what? He doesn’t give a damn. Just give him his treats, his food, and keep his mare nearby, and he’s happy.

I’m drinking a good glass of Cabernet right now…very relaxing. As for Reo, he’s gained at least 50 pounds in this last month. This Kentucky bluegrass is just like this wine is to me—-tasty, and fattening! I don’t know if he loves his grass as much as I love my wine, but I think it’s close. Unfortunately, gaining too much weight for a horse can be deadly. (I guess it can be for humans, too. ) I will be bringing his grazing muzzle out Monday, and he will be miserable, but he will stay alive. Poor Reo is one of those breeds that gains too much weight easily, then gets laminitis and very sick. He doesn’t understand the muzzle. It’s either that or he stays in a dry lot paddock with no friends nor any grass. The muzzle allows him to stay in the pasture and nibble at grass, at least.

I told him he would be going to a new home in a few weeks. I don’t think he really cares, but you can be sure he will when the trailer pulls up and he is asked to load up. He will be a sweaty mess by the time he gets to his new barn, only an hour away, and a total jerk when he gets there. I’ll just lead him to the grass, and he’ll be perfectly fine. Food is his great normalizer. Eat and everything will be great!

Me, well I’m okay now, but I must admit I have been secretly up tight. The contract on the condo in northern Kentucky went thru, so in two weeks we will own it. Our present home went up for sale and 6 days later it sold. This all means that we will be moving much sooner than I anticipated, and I have a whole lot to do in a few weeks. That’s okay, but still need time for horses, and for me to stay calm.

I had lunch with a good friend this week, and she told me that she was planning to euthanize her dog that afternoon. I think I got the supreme compliment from her, because she said she needed her time with me in order to be at peace with her decision. Her dog was 18 years old, and he told her he was done living. I get that, and she and I talked about life, death, memories, loneliness, and loss. I was so sad when we parted, but I did not show her that because she wanted my strength, not my sorrow. Sometimes it’s hard to be strong, so I kept my emotions to myself until later when I privately remembered my own pet losses. It’s hard!

So, life goes on. Horses age, I age, my friend experiences pain, losses pile up, but so do memories.

Big Changes

Here it is Friday, and I last rode on Sunday. Reo was a gentleman, we walked about the farm, tried a trot, and he was definitely dropping his head on right front leg contact. So, we walked and enjoyed a lovely Sunday afternoon. It always surprises me that so few people come to ride on the weekend. No one came the whole two hours I was there. I rather enjoyed my solitary time, however. Very peaceful, and allowed me time to come to terms with our decision to buy a condo in northern Kentucky. Strange, but I smiled when I thought of Reo in his new place, with trees and meadows and freedom. I think he will be very satisfied with his life there. I will have a splendid time riding trails, and enjoying the company of other women who enjoy the horsey life, as I do. Can’t wait.

I will have a lameness check performed on him when his vaccinations are done next week.

Whether to move Buddy will be a decision I will make at a later time, after I get a feeling for the new place. I brought grain to Buddy’s place Tuesday, and checked on him. He came immediately when I whistled, and I teared up thinking about leaving him behind. I will, of course, do what is best for him, not for me. He’s eating more food than I budgeted for. Wonderful for him, not so good for my horse budget. He’s lean, but looking good.

We put an offer in on a new home near Cincinnati; we listed our present home here in Georgetown, Kentucky for sale; and now must begin planning to move. I hired a lady who runs a business helping people downsize. She came this week and began the process of listing items for sale. Whenever I think of keeping something, I remind myself that letting go is the right thing to do. I am me, not my items. My memories will still be there, even if the items are gone. I repeat this mantra to myself, over and over, as treasured “things” leave me, that someone else will enjoy them. I convince myself that once they’re gone, it will be fine. My sister’s porcelain doll, a lovely hand painted lamp, books, stuffed animals (that talk to me), antique dining room suite, and so on. Do I need them? No. Do I like (love) them? Sure.

My imagination overruns with scenarios of these items not being cared for the way I care for them. And so, I cry. Pretty stupid, I know. They don’t feel, they are not living things, but they have become part of me, and that makes them alive, at least to me. Get over it, dammit!

I think that unless people actually undergo the experience of watching their life’s collections disappear, they cannot empathize with the lost feelings. I don’t mean to make it so dramatic, as it would be if the losses occurred during a true disaster, but I do understand why so many people keep everything until they die…sentimentality. I am striving to lose the sentimentality and spare my children the huge chore of deciding what the hell to do with the stuff when I’m gone. So there. I’ve talked myself into a positive attitude rather than a sad one.

My husband, my dogs, my horses and I are moving on to a quieter, less “stuff” filled life. We’re going to have a damn good time, I bet!

Reo, Buddy, Me

Reo is definitely lame. After cleaning off three days of crusted mud that he managed to get over his entire body, in every crevice, I decided I was too tired to ride. I thought he should experience some interaction with me other than the good grooming, so I put the rope halter on him and we went ahead to the indoor arena for a lunging lesson. You would have thought I had asked him to actually work, his head drooped, his ears flopped, he barely picked up his feet. I needed steps, too, so we walked together in a big circle until we both limbered up. His steps eventually lengthened and he looked fine and much more animated. However, when I asked him to trot, the lameness was very dramatic. Head lowering as the right front hoof hit the ground. Funny thing, though, was that his stride did not diminish at all. So I looked at his hip area, and think I saw a bump in his stride on right-hind. What this all means is that Reo is hurting somewhere; I do not know where or why; and so a vet visit is in the works. He does not seem uncomfortable when he is walking down the lane, or out in the pasture, so waiting a few days will not cause more damage. Perhaps he simply has a tightened muscle. We shall see.

Since I am low on money at the moment, I will wait two weeks until he is due for his twice-yearly vaccinations and include a lameness exam. By then, the lameness will either have improved or possibly remained the same and the vet can make a determination. Of course, if he gets worse, I will have the vet come immediately. This is horse life!

We have traveled once again up to northern Kentucky to look at condos. Tired of driving. Looked at horse boarding places, too. Was not happy with what I found. One place looked so good on its website, but what a disaster in real life. Dirty stalls, dirty horses, thin horses, damp/dank barn. Can’t imagine anyone keeping their horse there, but obviously some do since there were horses stalled. The ammonia smell was enough to turn me away. The other place was actually okay, just far from civilization. The young people running it were friendly, the horses appeared cared for, and it offered lots of trails to ride on.

I have been spoiled, I think, about how horses are supposed to be kept. Having our own place in NC for about 10 years, and being in total control of the horses’ well-being made me intolerant to other ways of keeping them, even if the other way is okay. Moving them to a boarding facility was difficult, and I searched hard to find the right place here in central Kentucky. Now that I might need a place in northern Kentucky, I will have to adjust to differing methods of horse care, but always with their safety and health in mind.

Which reminds me, it’s time for worming, farrier visits, and vaccinations for Buddy, too. I haven’t seen the Old Horse in a few days. I know he’s fine, but I also know he probably needs a good shedding blade activity to get rid of the rest of his winter hair. I’ll get to that today.

I am in an unsettled mood. Why? The answer is quite simple: not knowing what our future holds, where it’s going to be, how we will manage things, and so on. Kind of like most peoples’ lives in today’s time. Being older doesn’t mean one stops experiencing life’s daily trials; it just means it’s a little more difficult to make adjustments. I’m okay, though.

HORSES, MOVING, DOGS, MONEY, and MORE

It had been a few days since I spent some time in the saddle, and I missed Reo. Last Wednesday called to me, as I had been wandering around the house, restless as usual. It was a wonderful day for riding, the rain had stopped, it was slightly breezy, and the air felt just damp enough to imagine a day riding near the ocean. Reo was rather a dullard that day, I think because it was humid, which made it very pleasant to simply walk around and make my needed body adjustments. He seemed a little stiff, and my right hip joint made it very difficult to position myself correctly in the saddle once I mounted; however, once we began moving in sync, my body joined with his and we both became comfortable. His stride extended to cover more ground, and I experienced the joy I always feel as his body rolls side to side, his strength and power totally under my control. It’s always an exhilaration.

Because of the rainy weather, Buddy and his pasture mates had to stay up for a day, so when it cleared I drove over to his barn and turned him, Bella and Toby out in the field. I keep forgetting how darn tall Toby is. He must be very close to 17 hands….it’s almost impossible to reach up to his head to put the halter on and then lead him out. He was very good, though, as was Bella. Buddy neighed for his turn, because he hates for them to be out of his sight. The barn owner, Wendy, says Buddy is now completely in charge of the other two. She thinks it’s crazy that the 32 year old, one-eyed, Appaloosa gelding is now in charge. As I said before, he is something special, that old boy. He looks pretty good, still has lots of hair to shed, but he moves, he eats, he enjoys life. That’s all I can ask for.

I haven’t previously spoken of our dogs, Jake (a very old shepherd mix), Chloe (a chubby Corgi mix) and Nellie (a middle-aged, All-American dog). They are our companions here at home. When we lived on the farm in North Carolina, they were able to roam the pasture land and woods, visit the horses, chase wild turkeys, and truly enjoy a sense of freedom. It was completely fenced in so they could not leave the five acres, but they thought they were living the wild life. Their next home with us was only one acre, fenced, but they still had land to roam on, bark at the Canadian Geese that lived near the creek, annoy the neighbor, and generally live the good life. Now they share our home in a neighborhood on one-quarter acre, totally fenced with a six foot solid fence, and they still enjoy playing, annoying the birds gathered around the bird feeder, and digging up the grassy yard. However, they much prefer being out in the front yard with Chuck, viewing the wide world rather than the tall gray fence out back. I bring this all up because we are once again going to take them to a new home. This time they will be living in a small home with only green space that they can see, but not be allowed to freely roam. They will have to go for walks with us, on a leash, and only be allowed on our patio when we are there. No more pretending to be wild wolves. They will adjust, as we will, to this downsizing of our life. I tell them, “If I can adjust, you can adjust.”

So, my mind has been consumed this week with scouring the Internet in search of a new home, closer to our son in Cincinnati, selling this house, selling half of everything we own, mentally adjusting, and lastly, finding a new, affordable home for Reo, and maybe Buddy. The last item irritates Chuck, but I can’t help it. Since I was seven years old horses have been part of my life, and when I think of losing them, I actually get aches in my stomach. Hard for someone who doesn’t feel that sensation to understand, but those of us who have bonded with these wonderful creatures understand. If there is a God, then he simply chose some of us to be caretakers of horses. If He didn’t do it, then something did!

Of course, money is part of our life, too, and it’s tight, which is part of the downsizing (along with getting older and difficulty in keeping up this home). Which is another reason Chuck kind of resents, maybe hates, the horses. But he has hung in there for 45 of our 56 years together, and I am thankful he is still able to cope with this expense until my or the horses’ deaths.

And now we prepare to move on, along with our pet family, to new adventures and new pleasures. I will try to make it fun rather than a dreaded experience. If only I could put that into Chuck, too.

MISSING HORSES and LIVING LIFE

The last few days have been filled with thoughts, chores, relaxation, and fatigue. I feel like I have neglected my two horse guys, maybe because I have. I can’t shake the feeling that when I don’t actually tend to them that I have failed as their caretaker, even though I know they are both in safe places. It’s more than that, though, it’s the loss I feel when I don’t see them, touch them, talk to them. When animals are such a part of your life, for such a long time, it’s really difficult to remove oneself from their day-to-day living. They don’t need me, I know that, but in my heart I think they do.

I have to be honest, however, about the fact that it was nice not to have to go to them daily. I allowed myself time to work in the yard; to not look at the clock and think, “Oh, I have to go feed Buddy”; to join Chuck and have a relaxing sip of wine on the patio and look at the birds flitting from the cherry tree to the bird feeders; to simply live a little bit of life without horses being part of it. It gave me time to reflect upon what our next step in life will be, which leads me to making decisions with Chuck about where to live, how to live, our capabilities to maintain what we have, and our happiness shared in this home.

As much as we both enjoy this home, perhaps it is time to move on to a new abode. We have always adjusted to new homes; hey, we have moved into 16 new houses in 10 different cities in our 56 years together. Each departure left a little of me behind, but each new home brought excitement and adaptation to a new environment as we made each house a home. I have never been afraid to move on, but as I have grown older, each move has caused a little more emotional stress to my well-being. I am saddened at leaving items behind. I know, they are things, but each “thing” is something that brings back a memory. And then memories get in the way of happiness, and so on. So melodramatic!

I have lost much more than items in these various cities: an infant daughter in Illinois; a baby son in Pennsylvania; a sister and both parents in North Carolina; another sister in California. These are the true losses in my life. And then the beloved dogs, cats, and horses that we have buried in these places bring tears and so much heart pain. I find them the most difficult to write about, such losses.

Enough! New adventures await, and I’m ready to take the necessary steps to manage our life with style, grace, and thankfulness that we are able to choose what to do instead of being forced into action. I’d like to say that there is always a positive behind every change, but I’m not sure I truly believe that. Perhaps acceptance is a better way to say it, or pleasurable adjustment.

And, of course, Buddy and Reo will still be with me until either their death or mine, and then we will be left behind, too.

Riding Reo; and Walmart

First things first: I vacuumed my home; I filled the bird feeders; I cursed at the robot that ran out of batteries and therefore didn’t get up all the dog hair under my bed; and then I said, “I’m going riding.”

Thankfully, Reo was in the shed when I arrived, so no traipsing across the pasture was required. He nickered lowly, very slowly walked toward me, and happily accepted my offer of peppermint horse cookies. What a good fellow. I placed the faded halter on his head, and he followed me quite nicely on our walk to the barn. (It is about 100 feet from the gate to the barn where the tack room is housed.) After grooming, saddling, and walking to the arena, I was ready to once again try to perform a decent mounting. I failed, but it was a little better than totally falling on his neck….I only leaned close to his neck. I might mention that I actually got the saddle on him in one try, without knocking off the saddle pad. I’m improving.

Reo was delightfully lazy today. The Kentucky air is warm and welcoming, and both Reo and I enjoyed outside time walking down the lanes. He, of course, thought the cows across the way might eat him, but because we finally have an excellent rapport, he listens to me and doesn’t react in a manner that I cannot control. The movement of his steps was relaxing and peaceful, and my reverie was only disturbed occasionally when he quickened his pace because he saw the miniature horse in the field next to us, and when he saw the two week old palomino filly in the next pasture, and when he saw the white hose on the ground near the watering can, and when he saw the inside of the old dead Oak tree. But nonetheless, our ride was absolutely perfect and after 40 minutes of sun, bird songs, neighing from his pasture pals, and my body beginning to shout at me that it was time to end this ride, I allowed Reo to take me to the mounting block and finish our ride.

He got his grain, he got his extra grazing time on the lush outer yard, he got his cookies, and back to his mates he went. Both of us very relaxed, and I’m ready to take a quick stop at Walmart for bird seed and a few groceries.

No carts in Walmart, so I walked outside to the cart bins and grabbed a cart. That should have been a hint about the next 40 minutes. I was not able to find some items I needed; I discovered that the store had raised the price of the facial tissue I buy; and to top that off, they had lowered the number of tissue in the box. I did find the salmon on a plank that we like, so I placed that in my cart, along with the bird seed, the Imodium for Chuck, Denta Stix for the dogs, other food items, and hummus for me. Okay, not bad. I’m ready to go.

No checkouts open, at least not enough of them. Four, to be exact, but lots of the self checkouts, which I did not want to use because I simply don’t like to. I picked a line with a young man cashier and only one other person in line. But wait, the woman ahead of him was having trouble with her bank card. Of course. My luck. I waited, and waited, while others came in the line behind me and prevented me from backing out. I waited longer as the cashier looked about for help from his Walmart supervisor, who eventually showed up and couldn’t solve the problem either. Fifteen minutes later I finally was able to place my items on the checkout counter, and at last was able to leave the store.

In case you hadn’t detected a mood change happening here, by the time I left Walmart I was tense, moody, irritated, definitely not relaxed, and had wiped out all my positive feelings from my earlier ride with Reo. Of course, I took all this frustration out on my husband when I finally arrived home, which didn’t settle too nicely with him. I apologized, I gave him a bagel crisp with hummus, a quick kiss, and hugged my dogs. I survived.

Other Things

I think just because I named this site about my horses doesn’t mean I can’t blog about other aspects of my life, which may or may not involve horses. This past weekend I did not see my two horses; however, I did buy senior feed for Buddy and, with the help of my husband, delivered it to Buddy’s location.

The thing is, I can no longer carry those 50 lb bags of horse feed, nor the 50 lb bag of hay cubes. I hate that part of getting older, having to rely on others to do what I used to do capably by myself. In fact, I find it uncomfortable to clean Buddy’s stall when I am there, but I do it – because his stall is so easy to do. But when I attempt to help out and “pick” the other horses’ stalls, I can not complete it. So I am worthless in that sense, but very worthy in understanding and working with the horses and enjoying their beings. So, that’s enough for now.

I was thinking the other night about the changes that have occurred in the last few years — to me personally, to my husband, to my beliefs, to my family. Most of these changes have been minor, but life altering. Physically, I have new lines in my face, my back doesn’t like to stand up straight, my neck doesn’t turn to the sides very well, and my skin looks damn old. None of that is awful, just different.

Mentally, I struggle with patience and the desire to scream at the politicians in our world. Now that may not seem like much, but when I was raising kids and working in the law firm I did not have the inclination to worry about our country very much. Now I know that was wrong, but it’s a fact. Now that I am retired and have time to become obsessed with my world, I have become appalled at the leadership around this earth. It stinks, that’s all I can say. No honesty, no regard for the human beings or other creatures they have control over, nothing positive. Only greed and power rule, and I guess in my naivety I hadn’t realized it has always been that way. I digress.

So, aging brings on new worries about different things. I once again have to learn how to cope with the ugliness in our world, and search for the loveliness that I know exists. And again, I am brought back to the horses, who are lovely in their simplistic life and trust all will be as it should be. So difficult to accomplish their mindfulness.

Which brings me to my husband, who also is aging, and with more pains to endure than I have. He does things that his body rebels against, like lifting those 50 lb bags of horse feed, but insists on doing it, and then has to cope with joints and muscles that scream at him in pain. I hate that. I hate that he hurts, and that he does these things for me that cause the hurt. It simply doesn’t seem fair that this is the way life turns as we age. Where is the reward? Just to be alive? Sometimes I think it’s just not enough, but then I think, “Hey, look around and enjoy what’s here. Our scrappy, happy dogs; our lovely home; our children who love us; the flowering cherry trees. It is enough!”

So, the point is, forget the BS in the world and look at what’s near and dear. That’s what they tell us to do, and so I will try.

I did go see Reo today. He made me happy.