Sometimes I get the feeling Murray needs a hug machine. What with the girthiness and the generalized anxiety when we get to a new place, and the exceptionally good memory and the random spooking, I honestly think he’d appreciate a nice, dark, space that squeezes him tight. If any of you caught this article by UC Davis regarding dummy foals and their symptoms, I also thought perhaps I should try doing a little ropey re-birth ceremony with Murray to cure him of his dummyness. Or perhaps he just needs a thundershirt.
Because he loves things being squeezed around his belly. More, he insists. Tighter. He loves it.
This particularly deep eye roll was brought on by my Friday-night barn fun activities free jumping with friends. Free jumping the ponies with friends, that is. I did very little jumping, but did drink lots of blackberry elderflower hard lemonade. Everyone’s ponies were extremely impressive. Except mine.
Murray remembered free jumping — oh yes, he remembered — and FLEW into the chute (set up with a 2’3″ X to start with) and then ran immediately into the corner and assumed his favorite position — rolling. Then he proceeded to gallop around the arena for 15 minutes at top speed. Racing speed. When I finally caught him, he tried to pull away at the entrance to the chute, went through once more, and as he banked left to turn around the arena fell on his side and skidded into the wall. He immediately jumped back up and galloped around for ten more minutes.
Obviously we called it quits at that point. Fortunately, the creature is unhurt and raring to go this week, so I call myself lucky, and am glad I already know he has scope for jumping under saddle.
So what was supposed to be a fun night of watching our ponies show off their spectacular talents with drinks and friends has turned into a $120 chiro appointment and nooooooooooooooo spare money this month. I completely, utterly, totally understand the compulsion to keep one’s horse wrapped in bubbles in a padded stall and never, ever, ever let them out. Ever.
straightjacketed bubble wrapped in his padded cell stall is no way for a horse to live, and Murray could easily have had such an accident tearing around outside. C’est la vie equestrienne.
That gorgeous redheaded baby from a few weeks ago? Yeah, he can jump too.
So I embrace my Special (not a compliment) creature and am just glad he nickered when he heard me coming today.