Maybe We Can Do Her Some Good

I should relabel this blog PMU Adventure. Life with a fat and slow rescue horse.

I read in Anne of Green Gables, when the Cuthberts get a girl (Anne) instead of the boy orphan they wanted to help around the farm, Marilla says "What good is she going to do us?" And Matthew, the serene character, offers quietly "We might do her some good."

I do think I've learned with this Maggie horse character that I had my foot stomping need to have a horse in my life to see everyday, while we have the barn and the land and the hay to keep one. But then she came here and thankfully I had no idea how much courage it would take to get on and ride an untried big fat horse everyday, because I would have wimped out. Sincerely.

But everyday I got on that horse whether I wanted to get on or not. With fear in my boots. Sloshing full of fear. Because of that pony that bucked me off and broke my hand.

It's been six months next Monday that she's been here. I see an inkling ahead that maybe the hard part is over. She is used to the routine of riding. I have a girl with a modern name like Madison who will come once a week and school her. Maybe it is the presence of this phantom girl who will only really see Maggie for an hour a week that has given me a sense of settling into my pants. (When I'm on the horse.) I used to be afraid, what if she sees something and gets scared and then I'm whisked off and I die and yay no more meals to make but no, no dying. And this girl says, "Just have a quiet seat, she sees something that scares her, her head goes up. You just sit there like eh, that's nothing, she feels that, she settles back down." You are then leading her while not doing anything but relaxing.

So lately my rides with Maggie have been I Can Do It, not Please, Can I Do It? Solid leg on the sides of her, to squeeze her forward like toothpaste shooting in front of us. Holding her with my legs so she knows she has someone leading her forward. Today we went around the park in the wind, which scares any horse, and she did everything I asked with only a few moments of worry. When my leg got stronger and my seat got quiet, she got more confident, and her head dropped down and we both sighed.

The sign of a good ride.

She's coming around the corner, and there will be the time I've been looking forward to, the time when she's no longer new, she's gently used, and we're good for each other.