The opinions expressed in previous entries may or may not express the current opinion of the author.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014


So, yeah, we kind of moved to Texas. There's a certain satisfaction in telling people you're moving to Texas. It sounds kind of crazy and excessive. Actually, apparently half the world have moved with us to Houston, as wherever you go you hear different languages and accents spoken, and very few of the people you meet are native Texans.

The horses have moved too. As we are living in Houston to be near my husband's job, they are ensconced in a "ranch" about an hour away. They're always called "ranches" here, even if just a few acres - cool, huh? My 10-year old cowboy-loving self would have approved.

The first step in moving the horses was getting the health certificates and all the shots needed to come to the barn here. This, of course, entailed a vet visit, which was one of the pre-move hurdles I was kind of dreading. George used to try and bite the vet, and Bridget used to get a little crazy.

Our area in Pennsylvania, which until recently had to rely on cow vets, now boasts a proper equine vet, and I thought we should give her a try rather bring in the guy from over the mountain. She is a petite, soft-spoken young woman, kind but no-nonsense. The horses behaved like little angels for her. Well, pretty much. George started to plunge a little when she went to give him his shots, but he never once offered to bite or nip, and he settled down quickly.

I think he was proud of himself for overcoming his vet fears. Later on when I went out to visit him, he did two things which are rare for him - he put me on his right side, and then he came and stood facing me with his head drooping to the ground, ears lopping out to the side.

Next hurdle: loading onto the truck. When the truck drove up, George and the other horses were tense and vigilant, yet somehow keen. I'd been telling them for weeks that we were all going to Texas. Maybe they were prepared.

George recognizes that this has something to do with him.

The driver was a lovely lady called Marlina Dudash, owner-operator of A1 Horse Taxi, West Virginia. She rolled up in a 4-horse slant Sundowner, loaded up our hay, filled the water tank from our well so the horses would have familiar water to drink on the journey, and then we coaxed the horses on board.

George went first, followed by Rose, then Bridget, and finally Chloe. Each one sniffed the trailer before cautiously proceeding, and Rose stood shaking for a little while, poor dear, but we had no real problems.

Marlina was wonderful and kept me posted with texts and phone calls and photos along the way. She had offered to pick them up Monday, spend a short night on the trailer with them en route and get them there Tuesday night. However, I elected to have them stop twice on the journey, at horse motels, once in Tennessee and once in Arkansas, and arrive on Wednesday. Marlina booked them into some quite tony establishments for their overnight stops.

Rose in Arkansas - a little bewildered.
They arrived on schedule in Texas, and here they are getting acquainted with their new home.

Marlina was quite taken with George and friends. She said they all behaved very well on the journey.

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