Tough Love

Some Parents Don't Know When to Let Go 

        That Wednesday was my daughter, Cheyenne's first afterschool lesson at the farm since summer camp had come to a close in August. She had just turned 11 years old and survived her first couple days of fifth grade, so coming back to the farm for some saddle time was a bit of a release for her. She was going into her second year on the Interscholastic Equestrian Association (IEA) team as a novice rider and was thrilled to be back with her horse show buddies for another season.

    I had brought Cheyenne around Auggie a little at a time for the first few days, and she helped a little with brushing and handling him. I wasn't sure about letting her get too close to Auggie at first, but the kid boldly charged into his stall, as if he were magnetic, with comb in hand. I resisted the urge to stop her when I saw Auggie's face light up. His ears went forward and he lowered his head for some attention. To my surprise, Auggie seemed to like the kids at the farm, even relishing their affection, and forgiving them for their loud, noisy chatter. 

    Very quietly, my daughter was beginning to become attached to the big, bay horse. I hadn't expected this phenomenon to take place, but I shrugged and decided to see it as positive sign. Perhaps the smaller kids were not as intimidating to him as adults were and he felt safe letting them pet his nose and brush his mane. I really didn't appreciate the depth of Cheyenne's attachment until after my mother visited with Auggie for the first time.

For the first few weeks, I struggled to establish a good connection with Auggie.

    

    That Wednesday my mother wanted to go along to watch Cheyenne's lesson. We elected to take her car and pile all of our gear into the back, instead of wasting fuel on two vehicles. I didn't feel worried about her seeing Auggie for the first time; I figured she understood well enough that he was a bit of a project like Tony had been. We had been through a lot with Tony having come out of New Holland as a rescue, so I figured my mother could be reasonable about where Auggie was in his development. 

    It wasn't long before she proved me wrong. 

    When we arrived at the farm, Cheyenne bounced happily out of the backseat to greet her friends. She was off to socialize and prepare for her lesson, while I gathered up Auggie's grooming kit and tack. I figured I would ride Auggie for a little while in the outdoor ring and then watch the rest of Cheyenne's lesson. My mother followed me to Auggie's stall to see him for the first time. She had always held a negative opinion on Standardbreds, regardless of the fact that she had never so much as handled one, but I guess I hoped that she would accept Auggie free of bias. 

    Unfortunately, on this particular afternoon, Auggie was in a foul mood about his dinner being delivered to him. Each of the horses in the barn knows when their food is due to arrive, and they will air their displeasure in a variety of ways should it be a minute late. The late afternoon can be very chaotic and loud among a cacophony of pawing and kicking. Auggie had quickly learned the cues from the other horses, and he paced his stall impatiently with his ears back, anticipating his hay rations at any moment. 

    He circled and paced while I brushed and saddled him. I shrugged it off, knowing that this was just part of the deal, but my mother had a different opinion. Peering through the bars of the stall from the aisle, she spoke up as I struggled to bridle my horse.

 "How long do you have to give him back to the rescue?" she asked.

    "A month? Why?" I questioned as I slid the bit into his mouth.

    "He's not standing quietly for you. He's agitated. That's not right, he should stand still for you."

    "He's fine! They are all fussing right now, of course he's distracted." I felt my stomach knot up. I could sense the judgement, that same old judgement from long ago. I was annoyed. If only she had been this critical of my ex-husband before I made the mistake of marrying him. 

    "Maybe you shouldn't ride him today, he's too fussy," she interjected. 

    I unclipped the stall door and proceeded to lead him through to the hallway of the barn. She stepped back, intimidated by his enormity and the zeal with which he stepped from his stall. I didn't think Auggie loved being confined to his stall, so he always seemed eager to burst through the doorway once it had been opened, so long as there was no food in there.

    "It's fine. He won't learn anything being left in a stall all the time," I grumbled. 

I was certain that Auggie wasn't a fan of yet another new person in his living space, and now I was feeling aggravated to top it all off. I led him out the outdoor arena with my mother trailing behind us. I wasn't sure how I would handle the issue of getting on without making Auggie look worse in front of my mother, but I was determined to prove her wrong. This was not going well at all. 

    It was my good fortune that at the same time, Rich, Amy's father, was also on the way out to the arena at that same time. Peyton, one of the IEA girls was going to exercise Rich's horse for him on the flat. Rich was pushing 80 and still riding horses, but sometimes he needed a little help from the younger folk on his achy days. Back in the day, when I was a kid, Rich had been one of several instructors that taught me to ride, and he knew I could handle the difficult horses. His confidence in me never wavered, and I can only appreciate that now as an adult. 

    Rich noticed me hand walking Auggie to the arena as he ambled up the path with the girl's mother to watch her ride. "Oh good!" he exclaimed. "I can't wait to see this new one go!" he said, pointing out Auggie to Peyton's mom. I felt a sense of relief, somebody was excited to see Auggie, at least. Perhaps Rich 's influence could work on my own mother. 

    In the arena Rich held Auggie for me as I got on. Major crisis averted as my mother stepped into the ring to watch me. Once onboard, Auggie was quick to walk off, no pause for me to adjust anything, just straight to work. Rich and Peyton's mom sat on the bench in the corner, while my own mother stood, arms folded across her chest, in the corner of the arena. Peyton was on the opposite end of the ring with Rich's horse, Gordon, and beginning to pick up the trot. Auggie was not at all concerned with Gordon, but he carried his head like a giraffe and his step was quick and pacey. 

    I asked Auggie for a trot and catapulted forward into a pace. It was awkward and fast, but not terrifying by any means. He paced by Gordon until I pulled him up at the end of the arena. He slammed on the brakes instantly which was unsettling, and probably pretty ugly from an equitation standpoint, but not catastrophic. He had burned off some of his initial vigor and was now ready to listen more. I walked him up to my mom.

    "He's a lot of horse," she remarked.

  "What? What do you mean? He's not for beginner if that's what you mean."

    "He's just a lot of horse," she repeated.

    I turned him away from her with a sigh as Peyton began to canter Gordon. Back out on the circle, I prompted him to trot again, and he picked up the pace once more. Faster, smoother, but still very foreign for me. His head up high, he cruised the wide sweeping turns past Gordon again. I wasn't able to moderate his speed, it was either stop or go at this point, so I pulled him up again. Rich, observing my discomfort, cheerfully piped up from the bench,

    "If he starts getting too fast, just pull him into a smaller circle. The arc of the circle will slow him down if he gets away from you, then you can work with him."

    "Ok, " I said as I urged Auggie back into the pace. Of course, a smaller circle would slow him down, I knew that from all my years of riding, but in my haste to change my mother's opinion, I hadn't considered doing that. Sometimes we get so flustered trying to influence other people's opinions, we forget to do the basic work of tending to our own business.

    A few laps around again, and several iterations of smaller circles and I felt a difference in how he moved. The smaller circles were forcing him out of the pace and into more of a diagonal trot. I still couldn't keep up with his cadence, but it was a major step towards getting comfortable on this horse. I felt that Auggie had done enough for one day, as the sweat was beginning to soak his neck and shoulders. His mind was working overtime to learn this new lifestyle, and I didn't need to go overboard.

    "So he's too much for me?" I quipped to my mom as I jumped off his back and ran my stirrups up.

    "He's just a lot of horse," she said again for the third time.

    "But is he too much horse for me?" I clarified.

    "Well, that's not what I said. You don't have enough time to work with a horse like that. He's very strong."

    "Ok so I need to give him back, huh?" I was managing my anger as best as I could. She was going to have to admit that I was capable at some point, and I suppose I was waiting for an apology.  Rich was observing this absurd conversation from the bench as he got up and came over to Auggie.

    "He's so cute," Rich said as he pulled a mint out of his pocket for the horse. Auggie stood patiently by my side, head down and placid. Rich held out the mint for him, and to my surprise, the horse took it from him with a nod and began crunching it up.

    "He's going to just need time to learn to take is slow here," Rich continued. He did not address my mother but spoke to me as he reached to pat Auggie's neck. I nodded in humble agreement. 

    "Look, his whole life he's been hit with a whip and told to go faster. He doesn't know anything else. It's going to take a few months for him to settle. You are a very patient woman. With time and patience, you will work wonders with this horse. Then, he will be one of the best horses you've ever had," Rich concluded.

    "Yeah definitely," I stammered. 

    My mother was silent in the corner. I turned to walk Auggie out of the arena as Rich returned to bench with Peyton's mother. Never in all my years, had I ever expected Rich to be an advocate for me in front of my own mom. In my early teens, my friends and I used to poke fun at the man for his mannerisms and his old school methods, but now I saw a different side of the story. The truth was, we were young and dumb, and we had absolutely no clue about the kind of life Rich had lived. My perspective was changed forever on the subject.

    I washed Auggie off and put him in the stall with his hay for the night. He seemed much happier now that he had food within his reach. I was smoldering inside about my mother's comments. As an introvert, my natural tendency is to internalize things and stew in it for a while. It's not necessarily the right thing to do, but it's a character flaw that I deal with. I watched Cheyenne's lesson quietly, recalling every time in my life that my mother had told me I couldn't do something. This really wasn't about Auggie. Auggie was a symptom of the pathology.

    After an awkwardly silent ride home in the car with my mother, Cheyenne and I sat down at the dinner table like we always do. I usually had something fairly simple for dinner on lesson nights, like fish sticks or what not, and the local news would be blaring the week's forecast in the background. I know my daughter could see that I was unhappy.

    "So mommy, what did Grandma think of Auggie?" she asked, putting her cup down on the table.

    "Grandma doesn't like him, she thinks he's 'too much.' She said I should give him back to the rescue," I responded flatly. 

    Cheyenne's face twisted into a scowl, and she became flustered as she struggled to respond.

    "Well, he's not for Grandma," she said plainly. "He's never going to be for her. She has Roxie. Auggie isn't for a beginner."

    "No, he's not for grandma. You're right."

    "Yeah. We love our Auggie. Grandma needs to worry about Grandma," she finished as she moved to clear her plate from the table. "I'm going to take a shower now, ok?"

    "Ok, don't make a mess in the bathroom now." I said as I sat back in my chair. The kid was right. Auggie wasn't meant for just anyone, and certainly not my mother. All the years of negativity and discouragement just needed to stop. I was too old to be worried about what everyone thought anyway. I was too far along to quit now, and I didn't need my parents to validate me. My mood shifted from anger to determination. 

    You never know where you will find wisdom, I guess. In this case, my 11-year-old daughter and an elderly horse trainer.