The only cure for grief is action

And if that action involves being nuzzled by an OTTB, all the better. 

It was the end of a long day when I pulled up to the barn to retrieve Sir Woodford of TrotSoHot.  Admittedly I was apprehensive for a lot of reasons.  It has only been three and a half months since I lost  My Ozzy, and that horse spoiled me.  I never had to worry for anything and had a couple of specific concerns regarding Mr. Woody:

1. I was going to forget that not ALL horses allow you to do ridiculous things like tie them to unstable and/or unattached objects while you walk off spacey as you please to set fences.
2. When I did something as noted in item #1, Woody would not be as forgiving or comatose as My Ozzy was.

I needn’t worry on either account.  I didn’t act like a 8 year old that should be thrown out of Pony Club, and Woody didn’t put a foot wrong.  I showed up at the farm after a job interview and he acted like he’d been grabbed out of fields by strangers and driven away with his whole life (which actually, maybe he had been…). 

He stood like a gentleman to be wrapped and marched on the trailer without pause.  Once on the trailer, he munched hay, and based on the movement during the 4 1/2 hour journey home, promptly fell asleep. 

I would never DREAM of any horse filling Ozzy’s shoes, but Woody was on his way to proving to me that finding a horse with a good brain and a kind soul wasn’t a once in a lifetime occurrence.

I arrived at his new home well after dark and we placed him in a stall for the night.  First I must thank my friend for his new home.  I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am.  I met her when I was president of B.R.E.A and her BEAUTIFUL farm is not 2 miles from my house.  She doesn’t normally take boarders, but agreed to take us on, and I couldn’t possibly be more thankful.

And this is why… Here is Woody’s new Home

I’ll admit to speeding on my 50 mile commute home today.  I was looking forward to going to the barn.

My friend told me Woody had had a moderately rough day.  His field mates were not so accepting, and Woody, even though he had 40 acres to avoid trouble in, was a little needy.  It apparently took a little bit for him to realize that not everyone was as unconditionally accepting and willing to make friends as he.

By the time I got there, he had segregated himself, but strangely enough he was in the 40 acre field and the other three heese were in the small paddock.

He seemed genuinely interested in me coming to get him.  I’ll admit, this face looking at me so earnestly made me smile larger than I had in quite some time

He actually shied at the other horses over the fence, this was as close as he’d get to the big gray; a rough day indeed.

 

Today we did nothing but start the beautification process, which let’s be honest, is one of the most fun parts about getting a new horse.  He was curried and and brushed and scritched and I attempted to shorten his ridiculously thick mane.  I butchered it and told myself that it was too long to pull from the get-go.  I’ll clean it up this week. 

 He’s not real pleased with having his mane pulled, but like the clippers I introduced (and put to his bridle path and clipped his muzzle with), he was even tempered, correctable, and polite… green and not completely stoic, but moderately tolerant.

We then just took a little walk down the driveway, at the end of which are cows.  Woody was not pleased.  This will be something we work on later.  But as vexed as he obviously was, he was genuine and sane.  He’s good stuff.

I tried to take a picture of him after I had brushed him off… he wasn’t having any of it.  I’m slowly creating a monster, and by slowly I mean teaching him to appreciate carrots at a seemingly unrealistic pace.  Woody is all about some nuzzling and getting scritches.  Of course the fact that it was 50 degrees, about to storm, and windy as hell didn’t help.  He’s a good boy for standing still long enough to get this pitiful shot.

I’m not going to lie, turning him back out broke my heart a little.  He seemed a little clingy, like the kid that wont get out of the car when you try to drop him off at school.  That fear was unfortunately reinforced when the cavalry came back to shoo Woody into his place.

And the race went on

Things finally settled down, but not until after Woody played his own version of where’s Waldo.

 

This picture was just too much!

But things finally settled down

And Woody found his place, on the fringe.  He’s a smart boy and we have lots to teach each other.

We’ll spend the next couple of weeks getting to know each other and settling in.  My farrier is coming out on Thursday to get rid of those racing plates and CANTER’s Bourbon Cowboy and I will start moving on to the next parts of our lives.