argh. in Journal
- June 14, 2019, 10:57 p.m.
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- Public
I really truly love being an equestrian because I truly love horses. We had a simply marvelous ride today. I got a shoulder-in on both reins and we went to the next level of working trot. It was a great work session. Then we hacked out down the road for about a half mile. He couldn’t give a hoot about cars passing close by, although I sure don’t appreciate it.
It’s really tough on me to sell a horse. I do it because, well, I’m one of the only people I know that’s remotely skilled enough to sell a horse- and what I mean by that is, I know when a horse and rider are a good match. It’s SO obvious to me. It’s like magic when they meet even for the first time. Everyone can see it, everyone must be able to feel it, surely?! No, I’ve discovered. Almost no one can.
I’ve got a real gem on the market right now. Not bragging or anything, but we literally brought him back from the meat market to ring quality in a little over a year. I’ve had a lot of bites. One lady recently came out to look at him. She was appalling. Again, no offense to y’all who don’t ride but, if you can’t ride, I’m not going to sell you a horse.
After she limped around the ring a few times at the walk- no leg at all, just rein- she had the gall to ask “does he a sitting trot?” and then proceeded to potato sack on his back while he minced around… AND she thought that was a great jog. HAHAomg. I was like “please stop. just stop.” SMH.
She made a low ball offer and I said, Have A Nice Day. She left, and I consoled my poor boy.
It’s people like this that make it so difficult. They talk the talk and act like they can handle a 16H off track thoroughbred but it’s SO obvious they can’t. I wonder sometimes how ANYONE successfully finds their horses.
My cousin, a few years ago, expressed interest in buying a horse. So naturally I gave her unlimited opportunity to call me anytime-! to help her shop, choose, and vet any horse of interest.
She called me a week later and told me she bought a horse. gut instinct starts to kick in
....”How old is it?” I ask, KNOWING, KNOWING it is not good.
“She’s 2 and she’s a buckskin” she enthusiastically replies.
Oh. My. Lord. “Take her back.” I told her immediately. Of course she doesn’t listen. She didn’t listen to anyone.
So I go to see the horse. This mare- filly, really- is halter bred and is standing on sticks. Sticks. Long, LONG and very weak pasterns. She was also over at the knee, and even at 2yo was over muscled. I ask my cousin what she wants to do with the horse. She wants to do barrels. I tell her I don’t think the horse is going to be good for anything but maybe halter and very light trail riding.
Now, there is absolutely no excuse in the world for anyone to breed horses like this. Let alone sell them to unsuspecting naïve people. It pisses me right off. A horse like that is just a ticking time bomb of unsoundness, laminitis, and insurmountable vet bills. Not that I don’t feel for the horse itself. But her life would’ve been better lived as a child’s lead line pony or just a pasture ornament. It’s all she could be expected to do, realistically.
Anywho. Long story short. Cousin did the exact opposite of what I advised at every turn. She worked the horse for about a year before she went permanently lame with ring bone. She decided to try an experimental and risky operation on the horse. She went with a sub-par surgical facility. Horse foundered at said facility. Horse foundered again after she was brought home. Horse spent 9months in a stall in excruciating pain and TOTALLY INCAPACITATED while cousin hoped beyond hope for some kind of recovery.
It makes me feel sick to think back on what that horse went through.
And I never really forgave my cousin. She was naïve and uninformed, BUT, she had me as a knowledgeable source, and never took advantage of it. She never researched anything or made any effort to do what was best for the horse. She selfishly tried to make the horse bend to her own will; to do what she wanted. All because it was a pretty color. And the horse paid the price. Over a year, in all, of the worst pain imaginable. Only to be put down in what should have been the best years of it’s life.
So there are horror stories on both sides; the cunning horse trader and the selfish and naïve newb. Neither of them have any love for the horse. Neither of them can be trusted with any horse that I ever sell.
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