I had the most surreal experience in the truck the other day. I was driving the Rockstar to Leahurst to drop him off for his Spinal desmotomy or ligament snip in common parlance. I absolutely love my truck. With one horse on board it bowls along beautifully. On a sunny day on a good road, trucking always makes me smile. And suddenly I had this incredibly strong feeling that I wasn’t the only one smiling. It was just me and Rocky in the truck, and in that moment, for some reason, we had a total horse-human mind meld, driving along the M53 on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
Rocky is the most cheerful horse. If he was a human he would be the one sauntering along, whistling the whole time. He loves life and he loves food and he really loves humans and most of all he loves fuss. And whatever anyone else said, when he was ‘naughty’ I could not reconcile that cheerful, friendly, genuine personality with a horse that actually wanted to hurt me, or a horse that was ‘work shy’, or ‘out to get me’, or ‘knows that he can have me’ at any moment. All those phrases assume that horses have the ability to plan and to reason. And while I am usually the one speaking up for the intellect and emotional intelligence of the horse, planning mischief is not in their repertoire. They might associate certain behaviours with a resultant reward, such as pawing for attention at feed time, but there is no reward that comes from dumping your human on the floor apart from an end to pain or discomfort. And the super quick, super violent buck that he does very occasionally, to me, that one feels like a reaction to pain. It feels like an electric shock cattle prod type reaction. It’s an instant reflex ‘get off me now!’
I made Rocky some promises as I was driving along. I promised him that from now literally the only person that I would listen to on matters affecting Rocky would be Rocky himself. I promised him that I would listen, with an open heart and mind, that I would spend enough time with him to learn to spot and understand his body cues so that he would never have to escalate his behaviour unnecessarily loudly again. I promised him that the rehabilitation and the re-education would go as slowly and as carefully as he needed it. I promised him that we would deal with the separation anxiety and the unfamiliar step by step, with sympathetic trainers and helpers. And I promised him that any advice, no matter who well meaning, no matter who from, that felt off kilter, or instinctively wrong, or that raised more questions in my mind, would be carefully examined and considered from all angles and disregarded if it made me feel uneasy. I don’t know if I am always right, but when I am doubtful of advice from others that is proving to be a warning I should heed.
We had a bad winter last year- I took bad advice. I was told I had to decide if I was strong enough mentally to step up to the challenge that is Rocky. I sent Cal away on loan so I could concentrate on Rocky and winter was spent lungeing him until he was too tired to buck and then ‘riding him through his bad behaviour’. After a few concerted months of this regime, he was still wildly unpredictable. I decided he wasn’t the horse for me and made arrangements to sell him but thought had best get him scoped before he went to sales livery. Of course, the behaviour turned out to be caused by Grade 3 ulcers, which are generally secondary to pain and anxiety. And so after the scope, I treated the ulcers and then got him investigated for causes of low grade lameness; which led to the referral for the spinal desmotomy, and the truck journey.
Rocky seems to have forgiven me but he now doesn’t like the instructor who ‘helped’ us all that time, and definitely doesn’t like having him stand behind us. I wonder if he fights worse now in the presence of that person because he felt like he was fighting for his survival over those few months last winter. I have promised him we wouldn’t do that again. I have promised Rocky from now on he would get to choose. The main factor will be the level of pressure that Rocky feels he can cope with. We will go at his speed, and no one else’s. I have also promised Rocky that I will listen to my own instincts because the recommendation to commit to his work programme once and for all and decide if I could step up to be that clear in my intentions, or not, came from another much respected source. And I was so busy being clear in my own intent that I stopped listening to Rocky.
I promised to love him for ever and to keep him safe and from now on to make his choices for his good and with no one else’s bias or vested interests clouding my judgement. It’s a lonely feeling that. I have two really good instructors and had a great support system in place. But for some reason Rocky is demanding my full commitment to his self determination. I have cut him a deal; we are not necessarily talking about an easy life at home as a happy Sunday hack here, he’s a big athletic horse, he knows I would love to take him to grassroots one day, if he is physically able. So we would go as carefully and slowly and incrementally as we need to go, but the end goal is still function. And if function in a working sense is impossible he will not be allowed to suffer. He is absolutely my responsibility.
And so when we got to Leahurst it was surprisingly easy to hand him over for surgery. We’d done all our talking on the way there. All he had to do was behave impeccably and then come home and do his best to get better. He mooched off to the weigh-bridge, towering over the petite, young vet with his ears pricked and not a care in the world. He had never looked better. And he did behave impeccably. They all said what a complete gentleman he was, and all fell in love with him. The Labra-dude horse has yet another army of fans.
And I have promised that it will be just him and me, in our training and rehab bubble, for better or for worse. Of course I will seek help, but I will no longer listen to outside opinions or experts without question. And the new question will be very simple- instinctively, with an open heart, does that feel right?
