Getting Fuzzy

Coro would like to remind everyone of the inherent risk of equine activities. 

I don't see Notchee and Coro often these days.  They are boarded about an hour and a half away from my house, and about forty minutes from my aunt and grandmother's home in Colorado Springs.  I've been going down to stay once or twice a month, and my visits to the barn are usually a quick trip to drop off feed, give the two retirees a brush down and some goodies.  My new little pup Ruby is usually waiting in the car, and true to her hypervigilant Border Collie genes, I don't think she takes her eyes off of me, or the last place she saw me, for the entire time. 

This past Sunday my quick trip turned into an extended visit - two whole hours, like the old days - and it could not have been more perfect and needed on a gorgeous sunny afternoon, the last of which we may see for a while as temperatures in Colorado are plummeting to the teens for highs the rest of the week. 

Notchee and Coro have settled in wonderfully - I needn't have worried that their quality of life would be compromised by this move.  They are absolutely doted on by their caretakers - I found laminated info cards with pictures in their grain bin - all of their medical information and "do not tie under any circumstances" in bold letters on Coro's card.  A great idea, and one that gives me peace of mind that they are well taken care of now that I am a somewhat absentee owner.  Notchee has been adopted by a granddaughter, and there are rumors of playing dress-up as an Indian Princess Pony (these rumors have been substantiated with photographs). 

I do miss riding regularly, and I was determined to hop on my boy this time.  I hadn't even completely unpacked since we moved, so it took some time to gather all the grooming supplies and tack, and I realized after I hauled his saddle to the fence that I was missing a girth.  I considered my options.  Bareback?  For the first time in the new place and the first time in over three months?  Well, sure.  I brushed my fuzzy boy off and buckled on his bareback pad (in distinguished "Smoking Jacket Maroon" as my friend Anna calls it).  I took a couple deep breaths before attempting my first awkward launch onto his back, and Coro (predictably) snorted and spun away.  What did I think I was doing - did I not see his AARE card? I patted him and tried again, and he lowered his head and stood still.  He seemed relieved as I settled into place on his back, and we proceeded to enjoy a leisurely plod around his new digs with Notchee following along behind.  The sun shone, the chickens chattered, a smile crept across my face.  In this season of gratitude, I was glad my girth had gone missing, glad to be ambling the fenceline on the plains with my old friend.