Horses and Dogs

Rip and Til playing, "Ring Around the Pony"

Remembering a ride on the Island:  

It's Cliffy's turn to run free and I've saddled Trudy up. We are enjoying a lively trot down the road toward the shore. Til the border collie has taken it upon himself to do some sort of ad-lib herding thing, which consists of blasting ahead at top speed, coming back and circling behind both horses. 

Clifford is lagging behind to eat grass and then periodically galloping to catch up. On one trip back, Til sees him coming and hits the brakes. Most horses would slow down upon seeing a dog directly in their path. Clifford speeds up. He comes flying past Trudy, straight at the little dog. 

My heart is in my throat, but I say nothing because Clifford is clearly trying to scare me again. Til sees him coming, does a quick double back, and runs for his life with Clifford pounding along behind him. Cliffy leaps into the air and flings his back feet high, clearly ecstatic that he has had the desired effect. Til runs off up the road and Clifford stops, looking after him, and lets out a huge snort. "Take that!" Then he looks back at me to make sure I've caught the whole thing.

We go out to the shore and hang out for a bit, so the horses can drink lake water, lick the rocks and eat some of the harsh tufted grass which they clearly love. Clifford has had no interest in dogs since his surrogate mother Reva died in 2001. But I see that Til is not the least bit afraid of either horse and they seem to have some sort of arrangement. On the way back, it is the same, with the dog circling and racing and Cliffy nibbling grass. Then Clifford trots past us with his tail up, and I start yelling. "Git him, Clifford! Get that bad dog!"

More than happy to oblige, Clifford takes off, chasing the white dog madly up the road, shooting out his front legs and arching his neck and shaking his head. He has that same old suspension, floating above ground like he did when he was two years old. It is all a game, and the whole group of us, Trudy, Ms. Rip, Cliffy and Til and me, whoop and holler and run and ride like mad, all the way back to camp.

It's just like old times. It seems we just needed the right influence.

Dozing backstage at the Pet Expo

There is no question that the two species communicate very clearly to one another. 

I remember an incident at the 2011 Horse and Pet Expo in Secaucus New Jersey.  A lady stopped me in the aisle. She had a big boxer dog straining on the leash. She was smiling. "Could he meet your horse?" 

I was frazzled between shows, still had to take the dogs outside, fetch water and about a thousand other things. "Sure," I told her. "I'll have him out here shortly." 

I ran back by a few minutes later and she was still waiting with this big snorting dog. I grinned at her but I was thinking, "Good grief, why is this such a big deal?" 

I went backstage, got Clifford and led him over to his painting table. He was instantly mobbed as usual. He signed a couple of books but then, to my surprise, he singled out this big sloppy dog, walked over to him and went nose-to-nose. The two of them conferred for awhile with bobbing heads; the boxer with his grinning, gaping maw and Clifford with an interested spark. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. Finally, the dog broke off and went back to his lady. She stood there with her eyes welling up. "Thank you." 

As they left, I made a note to myself that I should always remember to be kind.  I still don't know exactly what had happened there. I do know that when I stay out of the way, Clifford can do some wonderful things.

 

Horse Books

In Michigan's Upper Peninsula, sometimes it feels like winter is never going to end.  For a horse owner, it offers cold-weather challenges such as snow drifts, frozen water tanks and temps well below zero.  This season, the brave stewards of Clifford and Trudy, who took them in during dire straits in December have faced a hay shortage as well, due to the drought of prior summer.

I am so grateful to my friends who are caring for them.  I haven't seen much of the horses this past year, being consumed by Dad's health issues, and then work commitments have taken me on the road.  At every pet expo I attend with the dogs, someone inevitably asks, "Where is Clifford?"

The question always feels like a little kick in the gut, but it's good to have the reminder that people still remember and care about him.  He did make an impact.  We traveled to Long Island New York, to Florida and all over Michigan, visiting expos and libraries to promote "Clifford of Drummond Island."  I thought I might be able to sell some books and entertain people a little bit with my funny house-trained horse.  What I didn't expect was the way Clifford was reaching out to certain people.  He always gravitated to the smallest child in any group.  If that child shrank away in fear, he would turn away and move on to someone who was not afraid.  He was most remarkable with people in wheelchairs, nuzzling them softly without using the mouthing so characteristic of him.  He usually would sniff and examine their legs at length.  One quadriplegic boy asked if Clifford could take his baseball cap off.  His mom asked him why.  But I thought I understood.  It was one way he could make contact.  At my request, Clifford gently removed his cap and dropped it in his lap. 

I hate to think of this talented horse's time going to waste as we weather out a long winter and each crisis. The towing vehicle is broken.  The trailer has seen better days.  Financing travel with a horse can seem like a luxury during lean times.  There are many stories of Clifford that I haven't told yet, and they are the most wonderful stories of all.  I hope we will be able to tour again, as we have just barely scratched the proverbial surface of what Clifford is able to do.

I'm sure there is another book in us, as we explore the mostly-uncharted territories of animals helping people with autism and other disabilities.  Kids may not retain a lot of what we talk about, but they will never forget the day a horse came into their school!

Meanwhile, Clifford isn't exactly suffering, as he munches away on some of the country's best timothy hay, harvested right there locally in Pickford Michigan.  The snow blankets him but he hardly bothers to lift his head.  (Can horses burp?)  Trudy in the meantime is checking out the cute little Morgan stud colt right over the fence.

Maybe spring is coming, after all.

"Clifford of Drummond Island" and others in the Clifford Horse series are now available on Kindle!

Trudy the Imp!

Last night we rode out to Reva’s Lake. It was Airatude’s turn to run loose and as she trotted along with us, I remembered a trick she had pulled on Dad just a couple of days prior.

The horses love Dad. He lets them out of the corral to roam at will together, and they are good about staying around. That morning, however, Trudy took off down the road. Dad yelled and hollered. “Trudy! You get back here!” He walked down the road after her and picked up a branch, shaking it. Trudy came back and did three full circles around the camp in a mad gallop.

“You settle down now!” he scolded.

She ran down the road again and disappeared.

Dad began to mutter under his breath as he set off after her. From my vantage point out the camper window, I could see Trudy, standing among the cedars right in front of his pickup truck. Because she is so dark, she was nearly invisible. She didn’t move. She was watching him with her ears up and it was perfectly clear that she was hiding on him. His eyes are still keen though, and with a hard look that way he spotted her. He started laughing. “Why you little devil!”

She was busted. She came out, head down, resigned, and walked up to him.

I often wonder how animals seem to understand camouflage so well.

Back on Drummond

I walked Ripple down to my shore lot yesterday. It was the first time I’ve been down there since the fourth of July. I walk and walk two miles to get there and then there is always a certain white rock that I sit on, which is right by the water. It has a smooth top and even a little shelf where I can rest my camera. I can put my feet in the water if I want to. The rock, of course, has been there since the beginning of time. It’s about the size of a large footstool.

Anyway, yesterday, I came down, and….. NO ROCK!!!!

I thought I might be losing my mind at first. I looked around just in case I had come to the wrong spot. But after 16 years of walking down here and sitting on this thing, well. …. I know where it was.

I think Vickie and I sat on it. I will have to check my Facebook page.

Anyway it had to be quite an effort to get it out of there. Of course, I am livid! Whoever took it came onto private property, and this is theft.

Drummond is loaded with rocks. But there is nothing close to this one that would really serve as a replacement.

Rode Trudy to the beach yesterday too. I will try to post photos to my blog later. That was another disturbing thing – I haven’t been there in four years, since before Scorch died. They have dredged it out or something, and all that wonderful hard, clean sand has been replaced by muck and swamp grass.

People are idiots!!!! I could scream.

The horses, however, had fun anyway.

Friday's Ride

It was Trudy's turn to run freely yesterday, but it didn't exactly work out. She is the one most in need of conditioning, as her tendency toward obesity has led to problems already this year. She has separation anxiety, so she never lets Cliffy get out of sight.

However, yesterday she lollygagged, uncharacteristically gorging on grass as Clifford and I trotted down the road. Clifford was feeling great; trotting along without hesitation and even looking suspiciously at things and snorting as we passed. We got farther and farther away from the chubby mare, who seemed completely unconcerned that we were disappearing. I suddenly realized that she was content enough to stay by the neighbor horses across the road. She was snubbing Cliffy for the tall roadside grass, safely in the company of the three pasture pals up the hill.

Cliffy and I turned around and trotted back. I attempted to motivate Trudy by chasing her. Clifford was into that! He broke into a canter, cutting horse style. I yelled and hollered. "Git moving mare! Yaahhhh! Get up!"

She would jerk her head irritably, run in a circle, and then go right back to grazing. I started remembering what my friend, Hollywood horse trainer Rex Peterson, had said about why he never uses mares on a movie set.

To her credit, though, she did stand quietly while I got off Clifford, removed his saddle and bridle, and put them on her. I climbed aboard and rode her at a trot toward home.

Clifford had dropped his head to graze. I called back to him. "Come on, Cliffy! You want to run up the hill?" Suddenly liberated, Clifford was giddy! He jumped straight up into the air, kicking and snorting and bucking, and came running after us with his tail up. He went galloping up the hill toward home.

If there is anything more beautiful than a horse running and playing with its tail up, rolling its eyes and shaking its mane, I can't think of what that could be. And the joy it carries is contagious.

Today's Ride

Anyone with any history with horses is probably privy to their aptitude as therapists. If anything in life is wrong, go spend time with your horse. You'll feel better. Really.

Clifford's painting stints of late have been pretty hysterically funny, interesting and loads of fun all at the same time. However, I have gotten preoccupied with "real life" issues and haven't done anything artistic with Clifford in several days. Today I decided to ride.

I've been pretty spoiled with spending summers up on Drummond. What can compare with turning one horse loose to run on the beach while you ride the other? It makes riding anywhere else fall short by comparison.

I thought I might be able to capture some of that old elation by trying the same thing at home. Reva Ridge Farm is a secluded place. There are dirt roads, but my horses are in their teens and seasoned enough not to do anything stupid (hopefully) in traffic.

I saddled up Trudy and turned Clifford loose. Cliffy wandered out into the backyard and started hoovering up clover. I swung aboard little Trude and we trotted up the hill to the driveway. Ripple followed along. I looked back at Clifford who was still busy grazing. "Hey, Clifford! Come on!"

He raised his head, still chewing, looked at me, and then dropped his head again.

"I guess he doesn't want to go," I said to Trudy.

We walked down the hill. Unlike her adventurous brother, Trudy is never thrilled to go by herself. She did not call out, but swung her head this way and that, trying to see if he might be catching up.

"Oh, forget him," I said. "He's missing out."

I had read somewhere that the best way to get a horse in shape is to trot a long, straight line. So that's what I asked her for. Trudy is little but a trotting machine. Clifford, though nearly a hand taller, has to run to keep up with her. We headed down the road. The neighbor's horses came running across the field up to the fence, three of them standing in a row, looking at us wide-eyed and snorting. Trudy wavered, trotting sideways in their direction.

"Knock it off," I said. "Quit yer flirting."

The three pasture mates spun into action and ran along the fence with us as we clipped briskly down the road. Rippy followed us, keeping a close eye on the neighbor horses, making sure they weren't going to interfere.

We crossed the neighbor's back field to come up behind the barn. Trudy was really flying now. She had been good, and not called out, but she was anxious to get back to her brother. We came round the front of the barn. No Clifford.

"Where'd he go?"

We looked around. I thought maybe he by now was running up the road after us. But just then I heard a noise. I looked into the barn and was surprised to see him standing in the aisle. He had forsaken his clover.

He had his head down and was nosing through the box of watercolors, flipping the sponges, rifling through the tubes of paint!

"Well, what's this! You want to make some more pictures?!"

I was so thrilled. I felt like the art teacher whose student had just asked for an extra credit project. Clifford turned and went over to the tack box on the wall. I had left a small sandwich bag of grain there, which I had been using as a reward for his painting efforts. He began mouthing the bag and crackling the plastic. AHA! The truth was out.

"You need to sell something. Then we'll talk. You think in these economic times, we do art just for FUN? Think again, buddy!"

I opened the stall door and he went in. But, he was right. The painting was a fun thing we did together. Maybe we'll be back at it tomorrow.

Morning Hay

The pastures are greening up, and the slanted golden light is so beautiful this morning that I pause from the chore of filling water buckets. I'm thinking the two horses having breakfast would be a nice watercolor. I decide to go back to the house to get my camera.



When I come back, the light has already changed. I take the pictures anyway thinking I might be able to bring some of it back in translation.



I'm trying to get a shot with both their heads down.



This is tricky with Mr. Nosy.



Now TRUDY'S looking!



Finally, both heads are down!



Uh oh -- He can't stand it any longer!

Today's Walk

I think the StemEquine is helping Trudy. She has been running in from the field to be fed, and on our walks she shows no sign of lameness. I can't wait to see how the next x rays come out.

Clifford was in rare form today. One of the first things he did was grab Trudy's lead rope and try to take it out of my hand. He really loves running and playing in the snow. Today he ran up the hill to the neighbor's. I wish that my battery hadn't been ready to go kaput on the camera, because I could have gotten a lot of cute videos of him running, bucking and jumping around.

We walked out to the road and he went up to the neighbor's field to say hello to the three horses that live there. I thought, "Uh oh, that's it. I am going to have to take Trudy home and then come back and fetch him. He's never going to leave those guys."

I let him visit for a bit, then to my surprise, when I called his name, he turned around and came trotting back. What a good boy! He got a treat for that. We went home and they were happy to be settled for the night.

The Word is "'Tude!"

Well, does THIS look like a mare who has foundered? ;-)

Here are a few pics of Trudy playing in the back yard today. I wouldn't say she is 100%, yet, but.... Well, just look at her!



Her feet x rayed between five and eight. That means the rotation is mild to moderate. She had her feet trimmed on Friday. That day, she started going back outside. She is still barefoot. I stopped soaking her hay, since it has been cold and she steals Clifford's hay anyway. The hay I am feeding is a late cutting, rough and straw-like, all grass.

I started her on StemEquine on the day she was x rayed, January 19th. She'll be x rayed again in a few weeks.

Today's Walk

A beautiful snowy evening...


Trudy is waiting for her x ray results.


Clifford had a great time playing in the snow!

Morgans: Good for the Soul

It's a bleak and snowy day here in Southeast Michigan. Trudy still hasn't had her x rays, but even after several days off the bute, she seems a little more comfortable than she was. She's still not her flexible self, but much better. Dr. Cawley had said she could go outside if she was better off the bute, but I decided not to do that since x rays are tomorrow. I just want to find out how bad it is before I do anything.

But I did take her out for a walk in the snow. Everything is grey, with light flakes falling gently. Trudy was so happy and grateful! She arched her neck and purred softly, looking eagerly around and smelling the air.

I turned Clifford loose and he followed us down the driveway, shadowed closely by Ms. Rip. He curled his tail up over his back, snorted and took off, cavorting and bucking his way through the knee-high drifts. I wished I had my camera!

We paused and I said, "Clifford!" But he was too wrapped up in his antics to notice. I took my glove off and held it up. "Do you want to fetch my glove?"

That was all he needed to hear. He turned and came trotting over and assumed the position: Head down, ears forward, waiting for the pitch! I threw the glove and he leaped in the air, ran to it and picked it up. He came trotting back with that glove flapping in his mouth, rolling his eyes and swinging his head so the fingers waved at me.

No matter what happens, the Morgans always somehow manage to make my day. What a couple of wonderful friends.

Trudy Has Foundered!

Well -- to top off what is amounting to one of the worst weeks of my life, now Trudy has foundered.

I have never experienced this before. She hasn't had any change in diet. She's had pretty much free access to hay all winter and she eats a couple of varieties of Equine Senior. She's pretty fat but has never had any problems in the past. A friend told me that if her feet weren't hot, then it isn't founder. Well, her feet felt normal. But she didn't want to pick up any of them, or go anywhere. She seemed very painful. I thought maybe she had fallen down on the ice or twisted something but she is not getting any better since two days ago when I noticed a problem.

Trudy is 17 this year.

Dr. Cawley came out yesterday, and sure enough, it's founder. We wrapped her feet and put her in a stall. I am soaking hay to feed her. She had a shot of banamine and is now on bute twice a day. Just overnight, her attitude has improved and she is walking a little better too. She's much more bright-eyed than yesterday and thought she should have some candy!

She is due to have x rays on Monday. Here's a pic from today.

Kerry Airatude

Today is Airatude's birthday! She's fifteen. It's hard to believe I've had her twelve years. As I wrote in "Clifford", I first saw her when she was just a baby, trotting by her dam's side. I was smitten then, but had to wait three years to get her. She and I have taken an incredible journey together. She has been a total joy and has added so much to my life. Here she is begging for mints with her brother!
Happy Birthday, 'Tude.

The Thinking Horse - Part 2

Ironically, I was investigating the subject already when something happened in the barn. Clifford, who often lets himself out of the stall if I leave the door unlatched, did so that day. I was busy with the water bucket, and didn't really mind. He often wanders loose around the backyard. There was a blizzard outside, though, and the snow was really piling up. Since I was down at the end of the aisle, I couldn't do much about it when I heard Trudy's hoofbeats clopping across the rubber mat on Clifford's floor. She had walked in through his open Dutch door, and then let herself out into the barn aisle. She took off out the door after him.

I had two loose horses in a blizzard, snorting in the cold and geeking each other up. I had been wondering just what goes through their little noggins anyway. In my online searching, I found out that there hadn't been much research done on the cognitive skills of horses -- but what I did find was no surprise.

I wrote this article about it for my hub.