I thought I had November 5th and 6th all planned out for this year.
March: I was invited (begged may be a better word) by some running buds to run the Ozark Trail 100 on November 6th. I considered it...until I saw that the Breeder's Cup Classic would be run that day. The Classic--how could I miss it? It was likely to be the last race of what is probably the greatest mare to ever set foot on a racetrack.
And even if for some crazy reason I decided to go ahead and run the race, and DVR the Classic for later, I would spend much of the race wondering what happened and before you know it, DNF just so I can get home sooner.
No, no...I would make sure my schedule was clear for that day. We would watch the race on our new big-screen, high-def television (thanks to my husband's mom for the X-mas gift!). I would cheer and cry for Zenyatta, then spend the night reminiscing her racing career with my husband.
July: We were still planning on watching the Cup at home, but this time with a guest--a buddy of my husband's that is often at the racetrack with him. Cool and fine by me, as long as he doesn't mind seeing his friend's wife sob over big Z.
October: I was sitting on the couch at home, doing what--who knows. No, wait, I was sitting on the floor, which means I was either in the middle of yoga or playing with the cats (or both). My husband stood in the door frame to the office and said "Maybe we'll go the Breeders Cup this year?" Should we?! We were, are, broke and really can't afford to travel anywhere but...too late! The ball was rolling, the gears were turning.
Zenyatta in the flesh--she was the horse I had dreamed about for 20 years, and I was going to see her in the flesh?
Turns out my husband's buddy (yup, same one) was headed there and, why shouldn't we go, also? Why sit with our thumbs up our butts when Churchill Downs is within a day's drive away? Last year I had wanted so badly to fly to Santa Anita in California to see the Breeder's Cup, only to be defeated by high airline and hotel prices. That wasn't the case this year. Carpe diem!
Fast-forward to today. We have all the details ironed out and the tickets are in the mail. And no, no--they weren't outrageously expensive and they're actually good seats. They're not right at the finish line but, in my opinion, somewhere even better--halfway between the turn for home and the finish line: Zenyatta's real estate.
And, from what my husband has told me, I know I won't be the only wet-cheeked one in company on that day. To bring: box of Kleenex.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Some great photos of Limerick
Zoe, a high school girl and daughter of a fellow boarder shot these over the early summer, and I didn't see them until a couple days ago--aren't they gorgeous?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Finally getting back on track with the riding! And a heart attack, courtesy of Limerick.
Wow, August was a horrid month for riding. I think I rode only twice during the entire month, and one ride was cut short because the bugs were causing Limerick to go berserk.
Hot, humid, buggy, wet, sweltering...not good riding conditions.
September, on the other hand, has been perfect so far. The bugs are present but at a tolerable level, and the weather is crisp and cool compared to August (I guess, if you can call 75 and low humidity "crisp and cool").
So far I've had two rides after dark (and it was truly dark for the first ride--I could barely see past Limerick's ever-pointed ears, but I trusted her and she was so good! There's nothing like cantering your horse through the dark), one ride in the made-over indoor arena (complete with power-washed and painted rafters/walls and brand new footing) and a fourth ride outside during the day.
We remain at one trail ride for the year but hopefully I'll find time to get out again; it's not too late, yet.
Back to the ride in the indoor arena. During that ride, I jumped Limerick over a very, very small fence as a test. I do want to get back into jumping with her but I am going to move forward very gradually. I first wanted to see how she would react to a small fence; I was pretty sure she would treat it no differently than she would a ground pole but, first things first.
As expected she did really well and I could just hear her thinking, "This is n-o-t-h-i-n-g, come on, you know I can do more!"
When we were done, as is customary when there is no one else in the arena with us, I took all of Lim's tack off to let her roll in the arena dirt. I carried it into the tack room. My saddle rack is by the large windows that oversee the arena and from there, I could see Limerick standing before the garage door that leads into the arena, cheerfully watching it open. As soon as it was open just enough, she trotted through the door, halter-less.
Wait, what?
I dropped the saddle and bridle and ran out of the tack room. It was late and dark and no one else was at the barn; what if she ran down the barn driveway and out onto the road? How would I deal with that alone? Worst case scenarios flashed through my head as I hurried outside.
She stood between the building that housed the arena and the barn.
"Limerick, stop right there!" I said. She looked at me, wide-eyed, then trotted into the barn. I ran after her, hoping she would go into her stall. Sure enough, she went around the corner and right through her open stall door. I ran over to the door and latched it shut, heart pounding.
Whoa....knees weak, I went back to the arena and looked at the garage door. How on earth did she open that thing? She's been loose in the indoor arena countless times before without any problem.
First, I pressed the "close" button from the outside. It didn't close. Hmm. Then I went into the arena and tried to close it from there. It didn't close. Great, not only did Limerick scare me half to death but she also somehow broke the door. Just great!
Then I noticed another, much newer-looking, garage door button by the gate to the indoor arena. It was large and flat. I pressed it and ta-da, the door began to descend.
So that's how she did it.
The new door opener was far too easy for a horse to open. I had to admit, I was relieved that Limerick did this and not one of the pasture-boarded horses. As much as she had scared me, I knew Lim was smart enough to go right into her stall. But if one of the pasture horses had done it, how would they have dealt with it? They have no stall to run to!
I told the barn owner about the incident the next morning, and by that evening there was a wooden box over the garage door opener, placed in such a way that no equine nose could ever nuzzle it open.
Right now I can laugh about it, but at the time, wow! What a scare.
Hot, humid, buggy, wet, sweltering...not good riding conditions.
September, on the other hand, has been perfect so far. The bugs are present but at a tolerable level, and the weather is crisp and cool compared to August (I guess, if you can call 75 and low humidity "crisp and cool").
So far I've had two rides after dark (and it was truly dark for the first ride--I could barely see past Limerick's ever-pointed ears, but I trusted her and she was so good! There's nothing like cantering your horse through the dark), one ride in the made-over indoor arena (complete with power-washed and painted rafters/walls and brand new footing) and a fourth ride outside during the day.
We remain at one trail ride for the year but hopefully I'll find time to get out again; it's not too late, yet.
Back to the ride in the indoor arena. During that ride, I jumped Limerick over a very, very small fence as a test. I do want to get back into jumping with her but I am going to move forward very gradually. I first wanted to see how she would react to a small fence; I was pretty sure she would treat it no differently than she would a ground pole but, first things first.
As expected she did really well and I could just hear her thinking, "This is n-o-t-h-i-n-g, come on, you know I can do more!"
When we were done, as is customary when there is no one else in the arena with us, I took all of Lim's tack off to let her roll in the arena dirt. I carried it into the tack room. My saddle rack is by the large windows that oversee the arena and from there, I could see Limerick standing before the garage door that leads into the arena, cheerfully watching it open. As soon as it was open just enough, she trotted through the door, halter-less.
Wait, what?
I dropped the saddle and bridle and ran out of the tack room. It was late and dark and no one else was at the barn; what if she ran down the barn driveway and out onto the road? How would I deal with that alone? Worst case scenarios flashed through my head as I hurried outside.
She stood between the building that housed the arena and the barn.
"Limerick, stop right there!" I said. She looked at me, wide-eyed, then trotted into the barn. I ran after her, hoping she would go into her stall. Sure enough, she went around the corner and right through her open stall door. I ran over to the door and latched it shut, heart pounding.
Whoa....knees weak, I went back to the arena and looked at the garage door. How on earth did she open that thing? She's been loose in the indoor arena countless times before without any problem.
First, I pressed the "close" button from the outside. It didn't close. Hmm. Then I went into the arena and tried to close it from there. It didn't close. Great, not only did Limerick scare me half to death but she also somehow broke the door. Just great!
Then I noticed another, much newer-looking, garage door button by the gate to the indoor arena. It was large and flat. I pressed it and ta-da, the door began to descend.
So that's how she did it.
The new door opener was far too easy for a horse to open. I had to admit, I was relieved that Limerick did this and not one of the pasture-boarded horses. As much as she had scared me, I knew Lim was smart enough to go right into her stall. But if one of the pasture horses had done it, how would they have dealt with it? They have no stall to run to!
I told the barn owner about the incident the next morning, and by that evening there was a wooden box over the garage door opener, placed in such a way that no equine nose could ever nuzzle it open.
Right now I can laugh about it, but at the time, wow! What a scare.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The things we do for our horses...
I mentioned that we are in the middle of one of the nastiest mosquito seasons ever, remember?
Well, Limerick isn't taking this so well...she's always been super-sensitive to bugs (crossing her eyes in an attempt to watch a fly land on her nose and getting her right hind leg stuck in her stall window while kicking out at a fly comes to mind) and I would guess that if you asked her, she would state that this is the worst summer, ever.
The mosquitoes are so relentless that clouds of them hover inside the barns...
...so relentless that they will swarm and bite me even after I apply half a bottle of Deep Woods OFF! insect repellent...
...so relentless that Limerick stops, eyes huge, and goes into Total Freakout Mode when she sees a puddle of standing water....
...so relentless that this summer alone I've seen Limerick go into more acrobatic scratching poses (the type you tend to only see small ponies and dogs do) than I have in the rest of my 14+ years with her.
But despite all this, I thought she was doing ""okay"" with them. I did wish I could bring her home with me at night and bed her down in my living room so she would be mosquito-free for a few blessed hours, but she was ""okay"", right? That belief was knocked down when I visited her one evening a few nights ago.
There I was, standing at the door to her stall, snapping a carrot in half, and did she look at me? Nope! She's only ignored a carrot breaking in half three times in her life, and needless to say, at each of those three times she was in a lot of pain. I went over to her and put my hands on her neck and shoulders. Her pounding heartbeat resonated through her chest and to my hands. I was concerned but after a quick check, found her okay otherwise.
She was simply done with those damn mosquitoes. She had it up to here. She was downright angry with them! That was it, I was declaring war on those bugs.
The very next day, I ordered an Amigo Mio tight-mesh fly sheet with a neck cover for Lim and checked off "overnight" in the shipping options. Then, on my way home from work, I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a dozen mosquito repellent bracelets made for humans, as well as one of those little battery-powered repellent fans.
That evening, I tucked the fan into the waistband of my jeans, switched it on, and spent an hour braiding the bracelets into her mane and tail. I also saturated her so heavily with my usual Pyranha aerosol spray that I momentarily wondered if I would develop lung cancer in a few years. I also told her that she had something very special coming...
The next day, it arrived. Boy, was it ugly:
(Not Limerick)But it would get the job done!!
Lim doesn't really like blankets or sheets (okay, downright hates them) but she didn't protest in the least when I put this one on her. It fit well (I ordered a size up to ensure good coverage) and actually didn't look half-bad. I think.
For added measure, I pulled the belly straps through a couple extra insect repellent bracelets. So far everything seems to be working OK and holding up in turnout, and Lim doesn't bat an eye when I put this sheet on her (if anything, she nods off).
If only I could permanently attach that little battery-powered repellent fan to her somehow...
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I need to update this more often....
I feel like I say that each time I post on here! Here's the run-down:
- The study of Lim's false pregnancy is now officially over; results are pending. Hormone wise, she seems to be in a twilight zone of normal/pseudopregnant, with rare moments of crankiness/flightiness/touch-me-nots here and there. But that could just be the heat.
- We went out on the trail in July, with Corrie and her horse Abby. We headed over to the Danada grass track and trotted and cantered around it a handful of times. Other than the typical nervous-nellie behavior, Limerick was actually very good, despite the bugs.
- Oh, the bugs. We're in the middle of the worst mosquito infestation in 20+ years. As you can imagine, Lim is totally freaking out and my barn time is more devoted to warding off the little bloodsuckers (or trying to figure out ways to ward off the little bloodsuckers--what's up with these things, did they crossbreed with killer bees or something? They are aggressive!!!) than riding.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
An open letter to my betta...
Dear Sir Tom,
In a way, you were just one of dozens of bettas I've had in my 20+ years of keeping fish. But the similarities end there.
You came into my life when I needed you most. You see, the day before we took you home, I lost my beloved oscar, a fish with a personality larger than the 180-gallon aquarium he resided in, a fish that was so special to me in so many ways. My husband took me to the fish store you were at and insisted that I pick out a new betta. Your little 4-gallon tank had been standing empty for months since the last betta I had (and at the time, my favorite betta of all time) passed away.
I watched the rows of small bowls, a betta in each. You stood out right away with your big red combtail fins and even bigger attitude. You know how you male bettas like to threaten each other through the glass. You took it a step further--I was convinced you were about to jump right out of your bowl and into your neighbors' bowl!
Of course, I picked you. After all, you reminded me of my oscar--an ornery little S.O.B. But my heart was still grieving for the loss of my oscar and I put you in your new home rather unceremoniously.
A couple days later, I noticed you were gasping for air at the surface of the tank. What was wrong? Was it the water? I had cleaned the tank before putting you in it, but maybe something had happened to the chemistry as it stood empty for months. Or, despite your attitude, had I picked out a sick fish? I looked closely at you and noticed a tiny bit of cat hair sticking out of your mouth. Having four cats, it was inevitable that a hair or two would end up in the aquariums.
I netted you in a white brine shrimp net and, with tweezers, carefully pulled the hair out of your mouth. You stayed still, as if you knew I was trying to help. The hair turned out to be from one of our Maine Coons and was over 4 inches long. How you managed to get almost all of that into your mouth, I have no idea.
But thanks to this bizarre and funny incident, I began to really like you. I named you Tom (ie, tomcat) then added "Sir" because you're too fancy for a simple name like Tom.
The betta before you had lived for just over two years and I didn't think I would ever have another betta live that long. But you surpassed that, and then some. You lived life with a vitality that I had never seen in any other betta in my life. As you moved through your little tank, you would open your fins wide with each pause, as if reminding everyone around you of your beauty. You killed almost all the algae eaters I put in your tank with you, except one. And that one was chased mercilessly on a daily basis until a couple weeks before your passing. You made me laugh every time you bit my husband and I when we fed you. It's a good thing you were so small! Your tank is next to our piranha's tank and when you would swim over to his side, he would come over and watch you. You are both members of our family and although Flipper probably just wanted to eat you, I found it very endearing.
You were there during some of the hardest times of my life. I remember feeding you during this time and being stricken with how normal it was. It was a sense of security in a surreal world. And last but not least, you really helped me get through a time of heavy grief due to the loss of my oscar, and for that I am eternally thankful. So thank you, Sir Tom. Enjoy the Big Pond, and try not to kill too many algae eaters in there.
Love, me
In a way, you were just one of dozens of bettas I've had in my 20+ years of keeping fish. But the similarities end there.
You came into my life when I needed you most. You see, the day before we took you home, I lost my beloved oscar, a fish with a personality larger than the 180-gallon aquarium he resided in, a fish that was so special to me in so many ways. My husband took me to the fish store you were at and insisted that I pick out a new betta. Your little 4-gallon tank had been standing empty for months since the last betta I had (and at the time, my favorite betta of all time) passed away.
I watched the rows of small bowls, a betta in each. You stood out right away with your big red combtail fins and even bigger attitude. You know how you male bettas like to threaten each other through the glass. You took it a step further--I was convinced you were about to jump right out of your bowl and into your neighbors' bowl!
Of course, I picked you. After all, you reminded me of my oscar--an ornery little S.O.B. But my heart was still grieving for the loss of my oscar and I put you in your new home rather unceremoniously.
A couple days later, I noticed you were gasping for air at the surface of the tank. What was wrong? Was it the water? I had cleaned the tank before putting you in it, but maybe something had happened to the chemistry as it stood empty for months. Or, despite your attitude, had I picked out a sick fish? I looked closely at you and noticed a tiny bit of cat hair sticking out of your mouth. Having four cats, it was inevitable that a hair or two would end up in the aquariums.
I netted you in a white brine shrimp net and, with tweezers, carefully pulled the hair out of your mouth. You stayed still, as if you knew I was trying to help. The hair turned out to be from one of our Maine Coons and was over 4 inches long. How you managed to get almost all of that into your mouth, I have no idea.
But thanks to this bizarre and funny incident, I began to really like you. I named you Tom (ie, tomcat) then added "Sir" because you're too fancy for a simple name like Tom.
The betta before you had lived for just over two years and I didn't think I would ever have another betta live that long. But you surpassed that, and then some. You lived life with a vitality that I had never seen in any other betta in my life. As you moved through your little tank, you would open your fins wide with each pause, as if reminding everyone around you of your beauty. You killed almost all the algae eaters I put in your tank with you, except one. And that one was chased mercilessly on a daily basis until a couple weeks before your passing. You made me laugh every time you bit my husband and I when we fed you. It's a good thing you were so small! Your tank is next to our piranha's tank and when you would swim over to his side, he would come over and watch you. You are both members of our family and although Flipper probably just wanted to eat you, I found it very endearing.
You were there during some of the hardest times of my life. I remember feeding you during this time and being stricken with how normal it was. It was a sense of security in a surreal world. And last but not least, you really helped me get through a time of heavy grief due to the loss of my oscar, and for that I am eternally thankful. So thank you, Sir Tom. Enjoy the Big Pond, and try not to kill too many algae eaters in there.
Love, me
Friday, June 4, 2010
Limerick: Research Subject
Well, it looks like there's a part two to Limerick's pseudopregnancy story.
The year began uneventful--she started her heat cycles in March and they continued somewhat regularly until late April. But that's pretty much where they ended. After that point she did not display any obvious heat symptoms. I didn't think much of it until I noticed her udder in early May.
The reproductive vet told me last year that her teats would never go back to normal again; that I was to expect them to remain larger than normal. Okey dokey. And true to his word, her udder dwindled down to nothing while the teats themselves remained kind of puffy looking.
But in early May, the udder began to bag up again and her teats slowly grew back to the sizes of last summer. Familiar with the routine, I decided to wait and see what happened. And nothing did for a while. She did not have any heat cycles. She was pleasant to ride (most of the time! She did have some silly moments, but nothing related to going into heat). Then this past Saturday, May 30th, I took her down to graze on some grass. Within a moment of arriving I noticed something falling from her udder area. I looked and saw milky white droplets dripping rapidly from each teat. Witch's milk!
The dripping slowed after a few seconds until a single drop hung from each teat. When I got home, I emailed the reproductive vet because I knew he would be very interested in this. And indeed he was--he wanted to see her as soon as possible. We set up an appointment for noon on Tuesday.
(I love seeing Limerick in the middle of the work day!)
When she saw him, her eyes went wide. That's the guy that always puts his arm up my butt!
He performed the usual ultrasound and rectal exam (everything pointed towards another pseudopregnancy) and this time drew blood for a hormone test and after 20 minutes of dodging flying hooves, he managed to get a sample from her udder.
All of this is for the vet's personal research. He is now drawing blood from her twice a week to see if there is a pattern in the hormones. We'll see what happens....Limerick may be a medical oddity, and a research subject, but she's still my baby.
The year began uneventful--she started her heat cycles in March and they continued somewhat regularly until late April. But that's pretty much where they ended. After that point she did not display any obvious heat symptoms. I didn't think much of it until I noticed her udder in early May.
The reproductive vet told me last year that her teats would never go back to normal again; that I was to expect them to remain larger than normal. Okey dokey. And true to his word, her udder dwindled down to nothing while the teats themselves remained kind of puffy looking.
But in early May, the udder began to bag up again and her teats slowly grew back to the sizes of last summer. Familiar with the routine, I decided to wait and see what happened. And nothing did for a while. She did not have any heat cycles. She was pleasant to ride (most of the time! She did have some silly moments, but nothing related to going into heat). Then this past Saturday, May 30th, I took her down to graze on some grass. Within a moment of arriving I noticed something falling from her udder area. I looked and saw milky white droplets dripping rapidly from each teat. Witch's milk!
The dripping slowed after a few seconds until a single drop hung from each teat. When I got home, I emailed the reproductive vet because I knew he would be very interested in this. And indeed he was--he wanted to see her as soon as possible. We set up an appointment for noon on Tuesday.
(I love seeing Limerick in the middle of the work day!)
When she saw him, her eyes went wide. That's the guy that always puts his arm up my butt!
He performed the usual ultrasound and rectal exam (everything pointed towards another pseudopregnancy) and this time drew blood for a hormone test and after 20 minutes of dodging flying hooves, he managed to get a sample from her udder.
All of this is for the vet's personal research. He is now drawing blood from her twice a week to see if there is a pattern in the hormones. We'll see what happens....Limerick may be a medical oddity, and a research subject, but she's still my baby.
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