WAITIN' ON A HAPPY ENDING

I'm a fan of happy endings, no denying it. I love reading and writing happy endings. Not Cinderella happy endings or shallow ones tied up too pretty with a big red bow. No. I enjoy a good struggle, some loss and heartache, tears and Dark Nights of the Soul. In other words, my favorite happy ending literature includes the edginess of life. But, in the end...a happy one. The main character has learned, grown, changed and found a silver lining hiding in a mess of grey clouds (Yes I live in the Pacific Northwest--can you tell?) I love writing and experiencing those kinds of happy endings. That's why its especially hard to write this post.

I had a happy ending clearly in mind when I brought Chance home one cold December day three years ago. He was not the first mess-of-a-horse that has shared my life. I must have been about 9 or 10 when I met a coal black pony colt starved nearly to death. I had accompanied my grandfather to pick up a load of wood in our old Chevy truck and spied the colt lying in a paddock. The owner appeared more concerned about making a few bucks than the condition of his horse. I begged my grandpa to help (I'm sure tears were involved) and my parents got more than a truck load of wood that day. We made "Star" at home in an old chicken coop and began the long and expensive road to rehabilitation. After veterinary care, a good dousing for lice, and plenty of feed the colt recovered completely. Strong and handsome he was eventually sold to a Shetland Pony farm and trained to the cart. That early experience with taking something cast off and turning it into a happy ending must have imbedded itself firmly in my psyche. God loves to reuse and recycle; He loves happy endings, right?

I've owned, adopted, fixed up and passed on numerous animals of every size and shape. Always there is the feeling of well being in being part of nurturing life and the reinforcing of an idea that effort, patience, and dedication are the keys to securing a happy ending. Effort equals reward. I've resold horses that ended up in my life and recieved the double pay out of a few bucks and a satisfying feeling.

From the start things were a bit different with Chance. I'll never forget seeing him for the first time that raw winter day, his skin draped over bony haunches, eyes staring off into the distance as if he'd long since dissociated himself from the pain of the present. He didn't look like a good investment and I knew it. Still, I felt drawn to him and that happy ending. While decidedly mediocre in conformation and athletic ability (less than mediocre) he was a good age and lovely color. Once a handy vet trimmed off the stallion ornamentation and he recieved lessons in polite behavior I saw potential. Lots of effort, no doubt, but potential. I felt pretty sure another happy ending was in the future.

Chance must have been born under a rain cloud. He had a hard time mastering physical basics--like loping--and mentally remained a bit off. Fear was his best friend and even other horses--his own kind--rejected him. While he improved100% over three years time, it wasn't enough to make him trustworthy or "normal." He often dissociated both on the ground and under saddle and could go from broke and trained to wing-nut in three seconds flat. But, he tried. Just wasn't happening. I've known people like that.

When my neighbor saw him fall and have what appeared to be a seizure, I forbade my daughter to ride him. Increasingly I felt uncomfortable riding him and had the strange feeling the horse was becoming less broke every day. When we saw him have a seizure while standing in his stall it all started to make sense. He was off and there wasn't alot to be done about it. From a veterinary stand point neurological problems are hard to diagnose. I sent his DNA away to rule out a particular disease and discussed the options but I had a sinking feeling my experience with Lady would be repeated. Why me? And why not a happy ending? I'd spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars and hours on this animal. My daughter and I loved him, in all his weirdness, and he seemed to deserve a happy ending. His entire life, up to the point I'd gotten him, had been about fear and rejection and neglect. It was hard to make peace with what I knew we'd have to do.

Putting Chance down was sort of the culmination of a season of comtemplating death. It began in October when I had the honor of writing a post script about the life of an amazing woman who died at the young age of 40 from a brain tumor. She had horses, a husband, and a four year old son. In the way God does, something beautiful was birthed in the life of a young woman who'd recieved both Mary's unselfish love and inherited her two horses a few years after her untimely death. My job was to catch that silver lining and share it. As happy as I was to do it, the story haunted me. Why, God? I felt myself asking the question over and over and getting no real response. The love Mary invested lived on, but it seemed unfair.

After writing Mary's story I lost my dog Chase to carcinoma. The dog that greeted me every day with a gift of some sort (stick, flower, token stolen from the cemetary next door) and helped raise my two children. He was a friend who knew how to love, no strings attached. No, a pet is not the same as a human being, but their loss hurts just the same.

After saying goodbye to Chance and allowing the tears to dry and my heart to breath a little I've come to some conclusions about happy endings. Maybe this isn't the place to focus on them. Life hurts and we're all going to say goodbye over, and over, and over again. If I didn't place my hope in a grander eternity the weight of it would be too much. I'm realizing these days how stingy I am with my love. Yeah I like to help out, but that's mostly if its going to feel good later on; include an ending that justifies effort expended and costs incurred (also called conditional love) . I think of all the Chances--human and animal--that languish in all sorts of places because they aren't a worthwhile investment. They have nothing to offer but brokenness.

The scriptures say over and over that love is the only thing we get to take with us some day. Love is valued above and beyond all; love conquers death and fear and hopelessness.

I love both the above pictures. One is the first time I saw Chance actually respond and find resonance with a human being. Probably no coincidence that human being was my daughter. Children don't hoard love and parcel it out for deserving causes in the way adults do. The second is a drawing by a thoughtful boy. It reads, "Chance," and then under it, "Forever."

Guess I'm going to wait on that happy ending. In the meantime...Love.

Forever.

FIFTY FIRST CLICKS

In the movie Fifty First Dates Drew Barrymore plays a charming sort of airhead with memory issues. Every day is a brand new day as Barrymore wakes up and can remember nothing from the day before. The movie is funny and quite touching. Especially at the end when her boyfriend turned husband, Adam Sandler, makes a video of her life to that point and has it ready in the DVD player each morning so she can watch it and remember who she is and what she's done.

Reminds me of a certain horse…minus the DVD player and compassionate, understanding partner. I did find it funny, in a completely exasperating way, that my post last week used trailer loading as the example of negative reinforcement. I finished that post and walked outside to load horses for a ride with my daughter and discovered life wanted to imitate art. Again. 40 minutes after working Chance into a sweat using (highly) negative reinforcement to get him to load into my new aluminum trailer, I called it quits. Forget it. Forget these annoying beasts who call me to rise to a new level of patience and skill. I loaded up (my new favorite) Cowboy and drove off in a cloud of dust. While Eli would load easily, he’s been testing me recently and I knew I had no patience left to deal with that in the right manner. Instead, I watched my daughter ride and contemplated getting a motorcycle.

Okay, not really. But I did have time to think about the scenario with Chance and how to approach it when I had gathered together any remaining shreds of patience. Good opportunity to try out the clicker and see if positive reinforcement could help him remember he did know how to load and had, in fact, been loaded multiple times in more then one trailer. Did I mention I’ve already spent hours on trailer loading this horse? Yes, nearly all of his experience includes trailers with ramps, but that’s no excuse. We had ended the last attempt to load with one foot in—for approximately two seconds—and Chance hanging his head inside the trailer in total defeat, his eyes broadcasting the fact that he had completely checked out and would be (re)learning nothing else that day. At least that way.

Its important to know that this horse is highly reactive. No cougar would have a chance to eat this Chance in the wild. Trust me. He continually scans his environment for details—no matter how small—that have changed in his tiny comfort circle. Grass growing, for instance. We call him our guard horse. Though he knows his leads, is very light in the face, bends and counter bends, sidepasses, backs, stops on a dime, etc. etc. this is all useless when he gets anxious and something triggers his flight response. Cue Fifty First Dates. This horse is a perfect example of why emotional stability is so important in ones mount. You can get away with a lot of things on a horse with low flight drive or one that is dull/lazy. A reactive horse, on the other hand, broadcasts all the weaknesses in ones horsemanship in blinking neon letters. I’ve decided I will never knowingly purchase a reactive horse. That said, I foolishly enjoy a challenge and like to experiment. Seems I have a horse that provides endless opportunity for both.

I approached the trailer, clicker and treats in pocket, with Chance later that same day. His panic about the new trailer seems to be the fact that it is a step up and the floor moves more then the old one when loading and unloading—environment change alert. At that point Chance had had maybe five sessions with the clicker. He was interesting to work with for two reasons: he took longer then the other horses to connect the sound with the treat and he never went through the pushy stage to get at the treats. Because he disengages easily, he frequently lost focus during the sessions, staring off into space and entering that place in his mind that remains locked. The “key” I’ve used in training is negative reinforcement to get him to accept new things. While this has worked to teach cues and maneuvers, I cannot say it has helped at all in rewiring the crazy emotional circuits.

Once Chance discovered the correlation between the click and a reward he seemed very pleased with himself. We worked on target training and the head down cue. My goal is to get him to lower his head on cue and keep it there for extended periods of time. This lowers adrenalin and seems a multi-useful cue. Alexandra Kurland makes an insightful statement in her book: You are never training only one thing. Just as one behavior problem is multiplied in other areas of the horse’s life, good training in one area multiplies into other, seemingly unrelated, areas.

As for the trailer, it took two days to get Chance standing inside with all four feet. He isn’t completely comfortable yet, but he hasn’t shut down (and neither have I, for that matter). I feel encouraged. My hypothesis (fingers crossed) is that positive reinforcement will be a stronger motivator for this particular horse. The click and new language between us appears to help him stay in the thinking side of his brain rather then the reactionary one.

If this doesn’t work I’m outfitting a DVD player in his stall…



PS. The above picture is of Cowboy (this weeks favorite horse) frisking an empty bag of grain. I haven’t introduced him to clicker training—if it ain’t broke don’t fix it—but I’m sure he’d be an enthusiastic student. This horse would sell his soul (and yours) for food of any kind. Donuts, sandwiches, Cheezits, salt and vinegar chips…Cowboy enjoys buffet style dining.

ON FAITH AND FRIENDSHIP

Without doubt, the hardest thing about the journey of faith is the word, why? I try not to speculate too much on God's ultimate purposes for the things that erupt and collide in my life but the truth is I get very attached to my own ideas. In the case of our little horse, Chance, my idea was an inspiring before and after. Yes, I questioned the wisdom of allowing Haley to ride and train this animal, especially after he bucked her off or shied, for the 92nd time, at an invisible bump in the arena dirt. A gentle nudging kept telling me to keep going so I felt sure there was a spectacular finish in mind. My prayer became simply that God would tell me definitely when it was time to move on.

Haley rode Chance for a year, almost to the day. In fact, her first and last rides were nearly identical--a peaceful, meandering trail ride with me. Two days after that last ride in August, I received the unhappy news of his seizure in the pasture and we decided we could no longer ignore his poor coordination. Chance's days as a riding horse may be over.

When I find myself disappointed, unsure, wavering, the only thing I can do is loosen my little boat of faith from its tightly moored position at the dock of human expectation and preconceived notion. Just loosen that baby and let it float on the great ocean of Grace knowing that no matter what, God has his eye on my position. I know there is purpose in the events in my life; in the details that do not make sense upon first examination.

It was a casual conversation with Haley that opened my eyes to the great blessing we've received because of this little horse. We were discussing the traits we were looking for in a new mount, the specific skills we desired.

I named off a few things then said, "So, what is the most important thing you want in a new horse?" I was pretty sure the word "gamer" would come out first.

"Friendship," she said, without hesitation. "It doesn't matter if you win lots of ribbons; the friendship is what's important."

This from a girl that not long ago couldn't stick with anything that didn't involve pretty instant gratification. Some exciting trade-off. I thought of her struggle with anger and self-control while working with a difficult horse, an animal that didn't make her look good or win lots of ribbons. Yet a horse that soaked up her attention and looked forward to her company. After a year of love and frustration in equal parts, she learned that horses shouldn't exist as pretty accessories. It's about the friendship.

Note to self: Quit giving up on God's purposes.

Recently I was thinking about friendship and how it is the only thing that matters in my significant relationships whether with my horse, my husband, or the Creator. God isn't a good luck charm; an accessory; a tradition; a heavenly Santa. My relationship to Him isn't some cosmic barter system--"Hey, if I'm polite to the !@#*! tailgating me I deserve to find my favorite jeans on sale, or a spare $20 in the sofa cushions."

It's about the friendship.