On Tuesday morning I moved my mare to a US Pony Club facility. Though she's for sale, right now she's the only horse I have to ride. We both need to get back in shape. I've more or less learned to ride her through my apprehension, but getting back on her is always tough when a couple of months have passed.
We loaded her in the trailer, easy as pie like always, and I followed behind. It was short drive, but Scout called and screamed throughout, boss mare taken from her herd. She has her own paddock for now, with neighbors on either side. Poor Scout, none of them were interested in her. She couldn't believe that, and played her Arab card to produce a floating prance and high, arched neck. Ho hum, they snuffled.
This fancy place has heated floors, a huge indoor arena, a year-round shower stall with a grooming stall beside it. With heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. A washing machine and dryer for blankets. Vending machines. Five hundred bucks a month. It will take some time to get used to it, I think.
I took friends to see my grey boy that afternoon, on the way to the airport. He knows my Pathfinder now, and walks to the gate to meet me. There is a whip laying on the ground there. That's how this place handles horses crowding to come in for the night. Yep, time to go. The plans are set, and he'll move into Scout's old stall tomorrow. A quiet winter of grooming, groundwork, handwalking and good food awaits him. He needs to put on weight more than anything else. That's good. He can put on weight, while Scout and I lose some.
I blew out my back later that night, though, and I haven't seen either of my horses for three days. That hurts.