CHAPTER 1
Tammy and Hugsy
The Beginning of the Journey
One day several years ago, my husband, Larry, made what I am sure he thinks was the worst mistake of his life. He arranged for me to take riding lessons. The gift came with one condition: under no circumstances was I to buy a horse. This condition was not unreasonable, but it was unrealistic, considering my history of bringing home stray animals such as dogs, cats, and the occasional orphaned skunk that needed to be loved.
After I promised, with my fingers crossed behind my back, not to buy a horse, Larry gave me the number to call. The woman described the lesson horses I could choose to ride. I could choose to ride the horse that had lots of energy and would do anything you asked or—and here I honestly zoned out until I heard "stubborn and a challenge." I chose the one she said was stubborn and a challenge, nicknamed Witchy Poo. I'm not sure why I chose this horse. Maybe it was because I like working with difficult students in my biology classroom and know I can make a difference in their lives. This horse was a natural fit for me.
I was so excited that I arrived for my first lesson a half hour early. I hadn't ridden since I was a young girl, and the smell of the barn and the horses was heaven. The horses were enjoying some time in the pasture, flies buzzing around. I enjoyed watching the worker fill water tubs and empty the poop cart. Women were chatting happily as they groomed their horses before a ride. I was home.
The horse I had picked to ride turned out to be a huge palomino quarter horse mare with pinned-back ears. People called her Barn Witch and Bonehead, among other names. Her real name was Hugsy. I don't know why, but I fell in love with her instantly. Maybe I saw a need in her eyes to be loved and understood. Maybe I felt a connection because we were very similar in some ways. Maybe it was because I love a challenge.
The only thing I really knew about horses at this point was that I loved them. As a kid I would visit my uncle every chance I had, just so I could pet his horses and feed them treats. If he had enough time, he would saddle one up and let me ride around the field. I never got to ride the horses as often as I wanted. To remedy this situation, my sister and I taught one his cows to lie down on command. We made a halter out of rope, climbed up on the cow, and rode around—not a good thing to let Mother see us doing. When we weren't playing with cows and horses at my uncle's place, we were stealing rope wherever we could to make a harness for our great dane. We actually taught him to pull our sled back up the hill in the winter. I was destined to be involved with horses.
As an adult, I showed up early to my weekly lesson, so I could hang around the barn to listen and learn. I spent six months learning how to deal with this very difficult mare that fate had found for me. I was told, "If you can handle this horse, you can handle anything."
Sometimes Hugsy could be sweet, and there was nothing more pleasurable than riding her around the field on a warm summer day. Sometimes she had a major attitude, and I couldn't wait to get her back to the barn. When she got too strong, the trainer recommended a stronger bit. At first the result was more control, but then she would get stronger, stick her nose in the air, and pin her ears back. If she wouldn't move forward, we got out the whip, and I was told to dig my heels into her sides. The result was variable. Sometimes she would take the bit in her teeth and charge. If she picked up the wrong lead, I used a variety of strategies, including making her hold still and kicking her with my outside leg.
One time I was told I was being too easy on her and should "give it to her good," so she would learn which lead I wanted. I didn't understand how making her stand still and kicking her in the side would make her learn the correct lead, but I did as I was told. If she spooked at something, I was to make her face the direction of whatever spooked her and make her go toward it. If she balked, I was supposed to use the crop and kick her sides as encouragement. If she did move forward but acted spooky, I was supposed to hold her and make her stand still.
If she wouldn't get on the trailer, we would use the butt rope trick in conjunction with the whip. I remember one time when someone broke a crop over her rump because she wouldn't get on the trailer. If she had truly been a "mean horse," she could have hurt a lot of people during these displays of attitude. If only I had known then what I know now.
Hugsy's owner decided to sell her; the mare was just too much to handle. I'd ridden other lesson horses that were easygoing, well mannered, and fun to ride. I could continue riding these other horses, but I felt a connection with this horse. I was heartbroken. Hugsy was mean and ornery on a good day, but when she looked at me there was tenderness in her eye, and she nickered when she saw me coming. I'm not exactly sure why I felt the way I did about this miserable animal, or why she showed me affection. I just knew I couldn't say good-bye.
I talked the owner into leasing Hugsy to me. I would not have ownership but would assume all financial responsibility, including board and vet and farrier bills. I could treat her as if she were mine. I think Hugsy's owner agreed to lease her to me because saying good-bye really wasn't an option for her yet either. I really believe that Hugsy's owner loved her and saw her potential as I did but didn't know how to fix the attitude. The worst part of the deal was that I had to go home and tell Larry.
"Honey, do you remember when you said I couldn't buy a horse?"
"What did you do?"
"Technically, I didn't buy the horse. I'm leasing her."
I've blocked out the rest of that conversation. I do remember I was in trouble for a very long time.
Soon after I started leasing Hugsy, my first trainer decided that it was time for me to switch trainers and go to the next level. I learned many great things with my first trainer, such as the importance of grooming, hoof care, anatomy of the horse, care of my tack, and basic horsemanship skills.
The trainer who was recommended had a good reputation and experience dealing with Hugsy. I thought perhaps the new trainer could help me turn my horse around, and I could have a pleasant, calm horse to enjoy. This trainer's solution to my difficult-to-deal-with horse was to use a stronger bit and tighten the curb chain on her high-port long-shanked curb bit. I was told to keep constant contact with her mouth and ride with a tight rein. I was told not...
