A Long Road Back

A Long Road Back
Upon the purchase of Austin, my beloved horse, I embarked on a journey with him, a journey of self discovery and realizations. I always felt a strong connection to my horse even before he was my own, and that connection only grew stronger over the years. That connection was put to one of its hardest tests this past summer, but I’m going to take you back, all the way to the spring leasing up to that emotionally tolling summer and fall.
In the late months of 2010, I changed jobs and started an emotional journey involving two guys and my horse. In the late fall I decided to move Austin to a new barn; a barn where he had roughly thirty acres to play on all day long. I didn’t see him very often during his stay there, so in early spring I was able to move him closer to my home and into a nicer barn, merely five minutes away. This is when the problems started to manifest themselves in some of the worst possible ways. As summer approaches, I try to work off some of Austin’s “winter weight” because he’d put on far too much weight at the last barn in my absence. Just as he started to lose weight though, he began to act strangely; he would do what I’d ask while under saddle but he’d buck afterwards. Having not done this in the past three years of the four I’ve owned him, I brush it off as his old rebellious self showing through because of my lack of seeing him.
As I do circles around the arena, asking him for a trot, then a lope, I notice that he feels off, as if he’s miss-stepping or limping as he moves. I bump him back down to a trot and continue along the railing of the arena. Finally asking him for another lope, Austin comes to a complete stop instead and I know something is wrong. I nudge him a little more to see if it’s just him acting up, and he doesn’t budge; instead he stands there and turns his head completely to look at me in the saddle. I immediately jump off his back and feel his legs right above his hooves for any heat or inflammation but I feel nothing out of the ordinary. Unbuckling his saddle I walk towards the barn with him and make sure he isn’t too hot to be put away. Well aware that if he’s too hot and drinks his cold water then I’ll have a lot more to worry about than I already do.
The following morning I am about to leave to go check on him when I get a call from my barn manager saying there’s something wrong with Austin. I jump in my car and fly down the road, making it to the barn in record time. As irresponsible as this may seem to speed there, a lot can happen in a matter of minutes with horses; if they aren’t diagnosed quickly enough then a small thing like a “stomach ache” also known as colic could become fatal for them. I call my vet and she starts her way over to where my horse is, she needs to just run some blood work and a quick physical for him.
I arrive at the barn long before her and slide Austin’s halter on. I’m already able to tell that there’s something wrong because he barely lifted his head for me. I attach the lead rope and open his stall door then pull on the lead rope. He refuses to move, so I pull a little more and eventually have to play tug of war with the rope. Finally he moves forward so I can see what’s wrong and he steps down on his front feet gingerly. I’m terrified because I already know what’s wrong, so I pull a little more hoping that I was just seeing things, but he takes another little step with one foot then rocks backward onto his hind feet. I recognize this stance, the rocking on his hind feet, ginger front feet and I feel the heat above his hooves. I’ve confirmed my suspicions but I must wait until the vet gets here in order to give him any pain medication. He has Laminitis, one of the worst (considered a disease to some) ailments that a horse can contract because there is no definite treatment or cause for it.
The vet arrives to confirm and we start Austin on about $250 worth of medication that he’ll be on for the next few months at least. He has a Thyroid problem, so his body can’t properly digest and burn sugar quickly enough for him to maintain a healthy BMI. This is a condition that he will fight with for the rest of his life. After the months of stall rest, no grain feed and minimal pasture time with a muzzle on; alas, Austin was able to move around freely again. He made what the vet and my farrier (person who shoes and cares for horses hooves) both call a miraculous recovery over a much shorter amount of time than other horses. He bounced back from the Laminitis in almost half the time that most other horses they’ve cared did. After her final checkup on Austin, the vet told me to start working with him under saddle again.
Upon starting Austin back under saddle, I was nervous because I didn’t want to hurt his hooves once again. We start working and Austin is nonresponsive to me. Even though I spent the last few months just sitting outside his stall, grooming him to perfection and just being there all the time for him, Austin didn’t want to listen to me. So, I take off his saddle and bridle; letting him run loose in the arena with me, he avoids eye contact and tries to avoid me all-in-all. I’m a little hurt by this but then I remember that he’s been in pain for the past few months, so he needs me to think of only him right now. Realizing that this is not about me, that it’s about him instead, I think of what to do. I go to grab a lunge line and begin a practice I’ve always done with Austin. I need him to see that I’m his safe place and that I won’t hurt him; he can be at peace with me.
This practice is commonly referred to as Joining-Up with your horse; clinicians such as Clinton Anderson and John Lyons both practice this technique when it comes to working with horses. I used the lunge line and force Austin to move around the arena along the railing. At first he refuses to move until I tap him on the hindquarters with the rope, then he takes off like a bullet. I’m relieved that he has no problem moving anymore, as he gallops around the outside of the arena with me standing on the inside. He stops moving but refuses to look at me still, so I encourage him to move more. I watch as his muscles (at least what left after months of inactivity) ripple under his coat, and his legs stretch to their maximum stride.
We repeat this several times until it finally happens; as Austin comes to a stop he turns to look at me in the center of the arena. I watch as his nostrils flare at me, his eyes slightly wild from having to run for so long. He looks so beautiful with his tail flagging in the air, his head pointed towards the sun with his forelock and mane blowing back into the wind. I’m mesmerized but then I remember what I’m supposed to be doing. I call Austin to me but he simply raises his head in protest, refusing to move towards me. I call him a few more times but it doesn’t seem to faze him, so I regretfully push him away and make him run even more until he comes to a stop yet again.
Not wanting to face defeat yet again, I decide to try a different way of approaching him. I sit down in the middle of the limestone, gravel coated arena. I stare at Austin as he stares back, seeming as if we’re have a staring contest that neither will give up on. Changing my mind, I turn so I’m no longer facing him but I’m facing the barn. I watch as Cindy (my barn manager) works around the yard and tends to everything. She’s confused by the sight of me sitting in the arena, especially because the ground was slightly damp from earlier, but she continues with her work after a moment of staring at me. I can only imagine what this looks like to a passerby’s eyes; a girl sitting in a large dirt arena with her horse literally staring her down after running circles around her.
I sit in the arena for about a half hour, just staring at anything and everything in order to keep myself busy. I’m not able to acknowledge Austin’s existence as a part of this, I must wait until he comes to me out of his own free will. There’s the old saying, “you can take a horse to water but you can’t make him drink”, it’s very true but once a horse drinks with you then he’ll do it again; in other words, you can’t make a horse do anything for you just because you want him to but if he feels like he can listen to you without worry then he’ll do anything for you. I’m brought back from my thoughts as I hear the crunching of the limestone under weight. I stop myself from looking over my shoulder as the noise becomes closer and I’m more aware of the presence behind me. I sit perfectly still trying to maintain my position while Austin decides what he wants; then I feel the heat from his nostrils on my cheek as he leans his head over my shoulder.
Rising from my position on the ground, I wait until I’m standing fully to turn and see him. Standing there with the sweetest look in his eyes and his ears perked forward, listening to me is Austin. I reach my hand out as he lifts his nose a little, then with my hand on his nose, staring him in the eye; I stand there for a few moments. As I pull my hand from his muzzle, I turn to walk away from Austin and he follows me around the arena. I’m thrilled that he’s following me happily and trotting alongside me with no problems or signs of being mad at me. After being mad at me for not allowing him outside (I can’t really tell him why because he doesn’t understand that he needs to heal), finally Austin is starting to remember that I’m not here to hurt him or make him miserable.
Joining-Up with a horse may seem to be a strange thing to some people but if you were to actually do so yourself you’d understand it better. I’ve joined up with many horses over the years but Austin is the one that I always come back to because he’s my horse and the only I’ll share this connection with. Once I’ve joined up with him, Austin will follow me around the barn with no halter or lead rope on. He lets me play tag with him and lounge on his back, reading a book while he eats his hay. This is a far cry from the horse that used to shy away from affection and fight against people every chance he had. Austin is my horse and a much better one than he used to be because I’ve Joined-Up with him and shown him that I can be trusted. This is something that keeps us both going at the end of the day.