Time and Trust

The much-anticipated workshop of November 15 has taken place! At Harmony Ranch in Van Vleck, Texas, I joined Christin Staszesky Harper, her five horses, and seven other students for a day of the Yoga of Equine Wisdom.

There's a lot to unpack from this workshop, and a lot to say, but I won't try to do it all at once. One thing - "Yoga" in this case has the meaning "Union," not a bunch of asanas.

Among the themes which emerged during the course of the day, trust and taking time were two which stood out. The issue of trust was introduced initially in human-to-human exercises, such leading each other and falling (not very far) backwards into a partner's waiting hands. Then as an exploration of horse/human trust, we took turns picking up a horse's foot. Most of the people at the workshop were not experienced with horses, and so this was something which might induce a degree of trepidation or uncertainty, perhaps on both sides. The human had to trust that it was safe to pick up the foot of the horse, and the horse had to feel confidence in the human in order to allow its foot to be picked up.

One horse had already picked up his forefeet a couple of times, and when the next human approached and asked for his foot, he refused. Very calmly and politely, but a refusal nonetheless. Then again, refusal is probably the wrong word. In humanspeak, we think of a refusal as a loud, or least emphatic,  "No!" The horse's No was more like the No of a rock that is just too heavy to lift. Our coach did not try to coach the human in a better or more explicit way to induce the horse to pick up his foot. And the student did not get flustered. The coach eventually questioned the student as to whether she perhaps could find some inner resistance on her part. No, she really couldn't. Then finally, our coach said, "You see - being with horses takes time!" And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than up came the foot.

Coincidence? Hmm.

Thinking back, there were many examples during the day of trust and taking time. And when I went to the barn today, I pondered the many examples I encountered there.

I bring some treats with me to the pasture. George, Rose and Bridget all come up and stand in a semi-circle around me, each waiting politely for their turn to receive a treat. Each one trusts that they will get their share and trusts that the other horses will not steal from them or bite them or drive them away. I trust them not to hurt me. It has taken a long time to reach this point - four years. Chloe still doesn't trust the others and stands in the background. But she trusts that I will throw her a treat and waits expectantly.

George is fearful of the cold; he doesn't trust the future food supply and feels he may starve. When I arrive he stands by the gate, trusting that I will take him out and let him graze. I take the time to stand beside him for an hour while he tries to satisfy his craving for calories.

Clover has carbs!

When it's Bridget's turn to come out of the pasture, I hold her leadrope and stand with her by the gate. George stands there too. It's hard for him to let her leave. At times, George comes between Bridget and me, his chest pressing against the rope. In the past this would have been a dangerous situation which I would have avoided at all costs, otherwise he would end up biting her and driving her away, possibly causing her to run me over in the process. Today, however, Bridget trusts George to control himself. She stands alert, but calm and patient, on the other end of the rope, giving George the time he needs to relinquish the gate. Which eventually he does - he ups and walks definitively away, allowing me plenty of time to open the gate, extract Bridget, and close the gate again.

Bridget, having been well-fed since birth does trust the food supply. While she is very happy to have snack breaks, she's more interested in exploring. Sometimes we run together.

Chloe has been giving me the Look since I arrived. She stands in the background, fixing me pointedly with her eyes and intention. The Look generally means, "Take (or let) me out." When I return Bridget to the field, George decides to stay near the gate, Bridget goes for a drink, and Rose tries to do what she always does when she wants to be in charge of where to go - she tries to gather Chloe up and shoo her ahead. I defend Chloe, who stands close by me, trusting that I will keep Rose away. Finally Rose, slightly huffy, walks off, and Chloe and I walk together to the far gate. Bridget follows us, but I convince her to keep her distance. Still Chloe trusts that I will keep her safe. When we reach the gate, I open it and invite Chloe to exit. She watches and waits for the right moment, then out she goes. When I first began allowing Chloe to say No, it took time - six months - before she trusted me enough to leave the pasture with me. And I trust Chloe to behave appropriately outside the confines of the fence, wearing no tack.

Chloe and I have a little walk, Chloe grazes, I sit down, and Chloe remembers her foot trick. She puts her foot on top of my bended knee and then looks for a treat, but I'm all out. She doesn't mind.

When it's time for me to leave, I realize that I have actually no way of getting Chloe back into the field. She doesn't buy me leading from behind - she knows I don't really mean it. I try taking off my belt and using it as a collar but that's about as much use as trying to move her by blowing at her. In the end, I run back and fetch a halter and leadrope (and apple). As soon as halter and rope are on, Chloe moves off readily, and we run together back to the gate. Rose is waiting, and the two of them stand trustingly side by side while I hand them bites of apple. Bridget comes up in time for the last morsel.

Sometimes Chloe lets me climb on her back. She trusts that I will not insist and will only go ahead with her permission. Today was not one of those days, but last week she allowed me the privilege. For me, that is the biggest leap (scramble!) of trust of all. Usually, I try to get up quickly, uneasy that she might take off or move. Then I realized that on those occasions when she decides it's ok, it really is ok. Last week, when Chloe stood still to let me clamber aboard, I think I managed to let go of my uncertainty and allow myself to take all the time I needed to climb up, allowing myself to feel her trustworthiness.

After Saturday's workshop, I feel I have a clearer mandate to continue waiting and trusting. Trusting not just the horses as individuals, but the whole process of unfolding. As Chloe and I were walking to the gate today, I felt a moment of anxiety - Will she come out? Will I fail? And then I realized that it didn't matter - that if I was serious about trusting the horses and trusting the future, I would accept with equanimity either outcome. There is so much to be grateful for; and so much in my life for which I am grateful was unplanned and unforeseen. Unexpected gifts can be better than the ones we hope for.

George's Entourage

George and Rose's friendship took six months from first meeting to the point where they could be together in the same space without Rose feeling fearful or George feeling the need to bite her. Then they went through a short phase when George broke the ice by acting all studdish and mounting her. And gradually from there they developed the beautiful relationship they have now, where George has nominated Rose as his mom, but he's still in charge. Rose's sweetness has been a balm to him, I think, and her presence has given him a safe place to relax and unwind. He has grown generous toward her and will stand by while she takes treats.

Rose is a nice napping partner.

George and Bridget's relationship, on the other hand, remained stormy and tense for much longer. For four years they couldn't occupy the same space. There was a certain curiosity between them, however, which they would sometimes try to satisfy by talking to each other over a fence, or even over a person. At home in PA, there are two adjoining fields with an open gate between, and I've observed them use that set-up to go one on each side of a fence in order to squeal at each other. 

Finally, this year there has been a rapprochement. They can stand fairly close together, and occasionally they'll touch noses or one will nose the other's flank without ensuing drama. I feel that their long journey to Texas together has helped their relationship.

As for Chloe - she has absolutely avoided George; no way was she ever going to allow herself to get anywhere near that dreadful ogre. And his behavior pretty much justified her fears, as if Chloe got in his vicinity, he'd usually offer to bite her. Even with a barrier between, the George-bites/Chloe-flees scenario remained.

Until.

Yesterday, I prevailed on Chloe to exit the field with me. She was very engaged in the process of getting through the gate and did not change her mind or want to quit when we had to run the George gauntlet. My strategy was basically to keep nicely reminding George that he was supposed to let us get out and to keep plying him with treats (not as rewards, but as morale boosters). He was in a high state of tension and clearly fighting with himself, but Chloe (a more acute George observer than I) did not falter. We dodged and sidestepped, and I kept swiveling to keep George in my sights, and we made it through the gate with no bites and no unauthorized escapees. 

Chloe then spent some time grazing, and (on account of she's a little angel) she let me clamber onto her back and sit there. When it was time to take her back, George stuck his head over the gate to greet us, and - lo and behold - he and Chloe touched noses FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. Only for a micro-second to be sure, but they did it again, just to be sure I didn't think I'd imagined it. And then George nicely let us back into the field.

This photo makes it look like Chloe is huge and I am tiny,
whereas in fact, as everyone knows, the opposite is true.

Running with Bridget

I've not been posting or reading online much lately - partly because of other things (also of interest) going on, and partly because I've realized I have adult-onset ADD, brought on by excessive computer use. I'm trying to find a happy medium.

This morning, as the big horses munched their hay, Chloe decided she would prefer to come out onto the lawn, and she managed to sneak away before the others cottoned on.

When it was time for her to go back in (and she obligingly decided she wanted to return right when I decided she ought to), she planted herself by one of the gates. She didn't want me to put her halter on and walked off when I suggested it. But she let it be known that she was ready to go back in under her own steam as soon as we got the George situation figured out. After standing by the gate for a short while, George courteously moved himself around the corner from the gate to a safe position. I opened the gate wide, and Chloe strode in.

I was giving treats to Bridget and George (who stood about a foot off from me, one on my left and one on my right, politely taking turns receiving carrots), when Chloe lead Rose at a gallop down into the adjoining pasture. Chloe was not happy to be followed, and kept looking back at Rose, daggers drawn.

Anyway, all that running looked like fun, so I said to Bridget and George, "Let's go!" and I set off after Rose and Chloe.

George was a little slow to follow, but as I ran, Bridget came up beside me. I felt myself caught up in a shared surge of energy and ran as fast as I could, while Bridget trotted at just the right speed to stay abreast of me.

I ran out of breath pretty quickly and stopped. When I turned back up the field to leave, Bridget followed me. She didn't want to run again, but when I paused to talk to her, she gave me one foreleg and then the other - Bridget's gesture of enthusiasm and connection.

For a moment, when I was running beside her, I felt as if something other than my own strength was carrying me along. I wonder if horses always feel like that when they run. You know that feeling when you smile so wide your face hurts? That's how much fun it was.

Bridget and the Gate

Bridget has a fascination for the gate which I use to cordon off the driveway when the horses are loose in the yard. This attraction is a new phenomenon, coinciding with my new hobby of hanging out with Bridget while perched a-top the gate.

Of course, the gate is a portal to the world of longer grass on the other side, and yesterday when I saw her pawing at it, I assumed she wanted to go out to eat.

After her grazing excursion, she parked herself beside the gate again, but this time she wanted to have a nice nap, resting the entire weight of her head and neck on my arm.

I have never known Bridget to be so peaceful and pensive.

After her rest, she started putting her foot on the gate again, but when I held out the halter and opened up the gate a little, she turned down the offer. What did she want? Did she want me to climb up the gate? It seemed so, as she stopped gesturing once I was up.

But after a while, she pawed at the gate again, and again turned down the offer of going through. Here's what I think - she really wishes she could climb up there too.

p.s. When I was bringing George back from a little grazing, Bridget was waiting by the gate. When they touched noses over the top, Bridget squealed and struck out. Her left foreleg ended up stuck between the very top two bars. My moment of panic evaporated as Bridget pulled her foot out in a calm and capable manner. I'd no idea she could strike so high - that girl could be a Rockette.

Peace & Quiet with George, and a Bit of Fun with Bridget

When George is not busy biting people, he is the sweetest, most peaceful creature in the world. Yesterday, he wanted to spend time with me standing by his side - not asking to be scratched or anything, just resting with his eyelids drooping. Even me pretending to be a vet and jabbing sharp objects into his neck did not ruffle his beatitude. I have a really cute photo of him, but my computer refuses to listen to my memory stick any more, and my phone has decided to quit sending photos.

This morning, I sat on the kitchen steps drinking my coffee, and George parked himself beside me again, with his little ears lopping out to the sides.

Also this morning, I was standing by a gate when Bridget came over to have her tail scratched. I've always thought that when we start riding, it should just be an extension of the close-contact physicality which Bridget enjoys. I climbed up on the gate. She backed up towards me, and I was able to sort of sit on her butt like a chair and scratch her at the same time, while holding onto the gate with the other hand. Then I held tight to the gate and lifted one leg onto her back, and scratched her with my foot. When she was facing me, I could lift my leg up to her head and scratch her neck with my foot and let her chew on my shoe. It all felt very natural.

A Verray Parfit Gentil Knight

George has a new name, although he's still called George.

After we returned from vacation yesterday, Bridget was standing hanging her head over the fence, plainly wishing for some diversion.

So I went in to the pasture, put on her halter and leadrope, and approached the gate. George, of course, approached the gate too. Over a week has gone by, after all, since he last came out of the field. However, it's high time I started taking Bridget out for regular solo expeditions, and I was determined. I promised George that Bridget was only going out for exercise and training purposes, and that there would be No Grazing Allowed.

George still stood there. As I stood beside him, pulling his ears, and prattling on about how I really wished he would move out of my way, visions of Carolyn Resnick and Hempfling brandishing long sticks came into view - long sticks with which they would skillfully express their point of view as to the desired location of the likes of George. My eyes cast about in a desultory fashion, looking at various objects on the ground, as I wondered whether I could use said objects to similar effect.

But I just stood there, prattling and waiting, Bridget hiding behind me.

Then George took himself out of the way so perfectly and beautifully that Bridget and I were able to exit without the least rush, and he stayed in position long enough for me to take this photo.

You can see the edge of the still-open gate at the bottom left.

I was speechless with admiration. Well, actually I wasn't speechless, and as I rushed about pulling up handfuls of grass to hand over the fence to him, I continued prattling, telling him how absolutely fantastic he is.

And I told him that no matter what kind of a George he had been up until this moment, he was hereinafter to be known as the namesake of St. George, he of damsel-rescuing, dragon-slaying fame.

Bridget and I had a very nice walk - and although of course she snatched the odd mouthful, there was no actual grazing, in faithfulness to my promise to George. When we returned, George let us back in.

I am grateful that although I am pretty clueless when it comes to demanding what I want, my kind friend is nevertheless generous enough to offer what I ask as a gift freely given.

Signs of Harmony

Here are some recent signs of teamwork and fellowship in the horse (and human) tribe:

* All four horses can often now be seen standing together in the shed - even Chloe,
   who stands nearest the exit, has all four feet squarely inside. Originally, George took
   solitary possession of the shed. As time went by, Rose and Bridget started to join him,
   while Chloe still stood outside. Now there is room for Chloe too.

* The other day as I was returning Chloe to the pasture, Rose was blocking the path.
   George came over and - fairly politely - told Rose to budge out of the way. They
   both moved far enough that Chloe was willing to enter the gate.

* There has been an increase in mutual grooming. Rose even started to groom me the
   other day, which was a little unnerving, as she's not used to grooming humans and has
   Big Teeth.

* Team RoseGeorge split up this morning, leaving George and Bridget dozing together in
   the shed, while Rose and Chloe (an unusual combination) came over to camp out by
   the trough for a while, Chloe taking advantage of Rose's tail to keep the flies off her
   face.

* George finally wandered over as I was talking to Rose over the fence, but she didn't
   move away, and he didn't make faces, and they stood together peacefully.

It has taken a full year for the horses, living together 24/7, to reach this level of comfort with each other. Many horses are not given the opportunity to forge long-term relationships like this - pasture mates are shuffled and re-shuffled according to the convenience of the barn owners, and friendships are not always taken into account when assigning turnout.

I feel I must guarantee these horses' physical and psychological welfare for the rest of their natural lives. How do I do this? Can I take out a life insurance policy which would ensure that they will be taken care of, no matter what happens to me? Are there horse retirement homes where they could go if, say, I die when they too are old? Could I make such a place the beneficiary of a life insurance policy payout, to cover their care indefinitely? Or if my children take over their care, could I keep funds in trust for the horses so that the money could not be spent for other purposes?

Does anyone have any experience or suggestions about this kind of thing?


p.s. My grandfather, who was a doctor, had a hobby farm. One of his patients left provision in his will for his carriage horses to be cared for at my grandfather's farm until their death. The old man's children were a bit put out at such a substantial portion of their father's estate being set aside for this purpose, and they kept circling like vultures, hoping for the horses' early demise. My grandfather took great pleasure in providing first-class care and veterinary attention for these horses. Legend does not relate how long they lived, but I have seen home movies of these horses galloping round the pasture, looking very sprightly.

Nice George

Today was a lovely day - proto-Spring! Just the weather to take a horse out for an excursion.

I decided Bridget should come out, as she tends to receive short shrift compared to Mr. Squeaky Wheel, who gets oiled more than the others. I put the halter on her without a rope and invited her (a la Spilker) to follow me. She did follow, and then she hesitated. I felt she almost needed the leadrope to give her permission to keep coming, especially given George's proximity. So I clipped on the rope, and we headed to the gate, where George was blocking the way.

Now, coming in is one thing, but exiting is another. Exiting means Someone Else is getting to do what George wants. However, I knew he would let us out eventually and was determined to wait it out. Bridget patiently bided her time in the safe zone behind me, every now and then amusing herself by tugging on my clothing.

It was a long wait, during which George gnawed the gate, pawed the ground, and bit himself. But our patience paid off - he finally walked away, and through we went. I turned around to thank George (who was back looking over the fence) for his kind cooperation. I hope he knew I appreciated it, although I imagine he may have been thinking something along the lines of "Talk is cheap - show me the money!"

Bridget was all kinds of up: the air was filled with noises - on Sunday everyone is home, firing off guns, riding dirt bikes, shouting in the distance.

A little muddy.

She settled down to graze, and after a while I decided today was the day for Bridget and I do a little work or whatever you call it. So I asked her to practice coming to me and allowing us to just stand quietly for a few moments, a technique which has been helpful with George. Her reaction? "What? You're kidding, right? There's grass here!" But I persisted through some dramatic ground-pawing  and incredulous head tossing, as I think we need to establish this zone of quiet attentiveness.

Bridget's return to the field was a faster procedure than her departure. George moved over, a look of disdain on his face, and allowed Bridget to walk in. George stayed put, not bothering Bridget during halter removal. The halter then went on George.

We ran a little, grazed, and engaged in a spot of work too. I was struck by the difference between Bridget's and George's reaction to the let's-just-stand-here-quietly exercise. Whereas Bridget had thought it a novel and bad idea, George seemed to have the attitude: "Yes, dear, I remember your little game, we can play it if you like."

After he'd had a good spell of grazing, I took him over to the grass-free driveway and practiced some other stuff. It's my belief that a lot of "bad use" in horses pops up the very moment they take the first step from standing. They shorten their necks, stiffen their back, and leave their hind legs trailing behind. They even do this when they're out in the pasture. When riding (what? when?), I used to practice stopping and then starting again with a loose neck and back - it's a good exercise, and a walk picked up in this manner is a better walk.*

Practicing this in-hand involved asking George to relax his head and neck before walking forward, while turning his head slightly toward me and releasing his shoulder away. Now, in the past George has been very picky about suggestions regarding his shoulder. Today, though, I had a whole new feel from him, and for the first time, I had the impression we were on the same page. He didn't seem threatened and didn't look crabby. He projected an air of recognition and understanding - although not unmixed with a little impatience!

Later there was a commotion - the dogs barking at a man walking along the far edge of our property. George decided he needed to return to his pasture in order to get closer to the scene of action and check it out. I let him go and he ran half way over to the far side of the field, looking vigilantly into the distance. Brave defender.

Ready for supper.

*Try setting off into a walk from a standstill. Then stop and drop loosely forward from your waist, your neck, head and arms drooping down. Thusly posed, start walking again. You'll feel a whole different sensation in your legs - much more engagement, and greater lengthening down the back of the leg.

Tricks for Chloe

A recent comment on an old post got me thinking that maybe Chloe should come out and have some activities rather than just graze the lawn.  Perhaps the Chloe Rule - Chloe Never Has To Do Anything She Doesn't Want - doesn't have to mean that Chloe never actually does anything.

So I went into the field with the halter to fetch her out. She saw the halter and wouldn't let me catch her until she was good and sure that George was not going to come and play the boogie man while she was helplessly caught on the end of a rope. After I'd managed to convey to George three or four times in a row that this was not his turn, Chloe must have been finally convinced, and she stood and waited for me to come up and put the halter on - her assessment of the situation is always superior to mine.

Then we had to get out of the gate. Chloe hid behind me while George stood nearby making evil big brother faces at her. I didn't chase him but stood and talked to him for a little while, feeding him a few treats and asking him to back away. Finally mollified, he walked away, and Chloe and I were able to exit the gate without drama.

We ran around together a little bit. Then I lead her over to an upturned bucket. First we shook hands, and then I asked her to put her foot up on the bucket. She immediately struck the bucket with one foreleg, and on being asked again, struck it with the other one. About five years ago, I briefly taught her to put her foreleg up onto things - did she remember that, or perhaps she just understood what I was asking ... ?

Then we ran over to the brick ledge of an old outdoor firepit. She stopped dead a few feet away and refused to budge. I cajoled and coaxed to no avail. When I sat down on the ledge and said "It's ok, you can stay there," she stepped forward. Again I asked her to put her foot on the ledge. She reached out and pawed it. But I wanted her to leave her foot there, so I put my own foot up and waited. She looked, thought for a moment, and then lifted one foreleg, placed her foot on the ledge beside mine and left it there. But not long enough for me to get a photo!

We did the spinning trick, went for a very short walk, and then I took off the leadrope and let her get on with the important business of lawn grazing.

There then followed the action-packed interlude recounted in the previous post.

Chloe was the last one back into the pasture, and of course George was guarding the gate as usual.

I stood in the open gate, Chloe watching and waiting for the right moment to enter.

Eyes on George

George stood by the gate opening next to me, and no way was Chloe going to walk past him.

Again, I had a conversation with him, although this time I had no treats left to give. He knows I need him out the way to let Chloe in, and before long he switched to the other side of the opening, positioning himself behind the gate so that there was a barrier between him and Chloe as she entered. She walked right in, and George didn't follow us when I took Chloe's halter off.

Today, I took a leaf out of Spilker's book and doled out treats as encouragement rather than just as rewards. I gave Chloe treats when she refused to move, or when she looked confused, as well as when she did a trick. And I handed them out to George not only when he backed up as requested, but also before asking him.  Hooray for warmer weather and getting out and doing things!

I know. I'm such a great guy.

Adversarial

Yesterday, my horse friend came over to help me trim Rose. She was cheerfully optimistic that good trimming will be able to correct Rose's dropped pasterns, aka coon-footedness.

It is always thought-provoking when my friend is here. As I have documented before, her approach to the horses is slightly different from mine.

We had Rose tied up at the fence inside the field. Bridget and George immediately left their piles of hay and came over to investigate what we were up to, trying to insert themselves in the middle of things.

My friend said that it was a dominance thing and that George was put out because we had taken "his" mare. I think George was saying the following:

a) this is where the action is, so I'd better be over here;
b) sometimes Rose lets me say hello when she has a halter and leadrope on - maybe she'll let me speak to her; and
c) but why do you have the halter on Rose anyway? You ought to put it on me - I'd like to draw your attention to some long grass over the fence there which looks like it might still be edible.

Bridget kept sneaking over and trying to interfere with Rose. When I wouldn't let her get into our bubble, she proceeded to charge around the field, looking very glamorous with her tail high. My friend said again it was a dominance thing and that Bridget was like a toddler having a tantrum. Whereas to my mind, she was just letting off steam because she got a little frustrated. After she'd had her fun, she walked over and stood quietly a couple of horse-lengths away.

When my friend wants a horse to get out of her space, she acts aggressive and drives them out. My approach is more to make contact with the horse and make my desires clear. My friend can make George and Bridget leave completely. For me, they will respect my desire to keep out of my bubble, but they'll keep hovering and looking at me, like "Are you sure? Can we talk about this some more maybe please?" My way is not as immediately effective a way of clearing the area, but it works for me, as I'm willing to wait for us all to learn and agree on behavioral etiquette - like waiting for George to cede the gate to allow the mares to enter.

When my friend spoke about George and Bridget, I found myself getting anxious, starting to feel that old emotion of fear, as if the horse were an adversary to be overcome. I had to remind myself: "No, this is Bridget - she is not trying to dominate me, I can trust her. And I don't need to dominate her either." Refusing to be a doormat is a very different thing from becoming a pair of boots.

And once again, I must remind everyone that my friend's horses are outgoing, confident, friendly, charming, and communicative. So what she is doing can't be bad. It works for her. I have to be willing to learn, but at the same time not be swayed from what experience tells me works for my horses and me.

An Afternoon's Activities

A new record - George and I hand-grazed for two and a half hours, at which point his grazing didn't stop but became much more desultory.

After I put him back, I went to retrieve Chloe, who had been out with us. George hardly moved from his position by the gate when I attempted to return her to the field. I opened the gate, however, and Chloe (who knows what George is thinking) proceeded to enter confidently. Sure enough George just stood there.

He was nice and let me take Bridget out. When I returned her, he moved aside, but Bridget didn't trust him, and wouldn't go in through the gate. George returned to his troll-under-the-bridge post, and I had to wait several minutes until he decided to get out of the way again. This time, Bridget believed him and went through. George was nice and left us alone to get the halter off.

While I had Bridget out, she trotted along with me several times, doing her pretty Arab trot, tail high, neck arched. I just hold the very end of the lead rope and give her space so she feels unimpeded as she moves along. It's fun. We ran down the driveway together to greet my daughter coming off the school bus.

I'm conscious, when I write about George "letting" me do things, that such a viewpoint is anathema in most circles. I think even KFH would not approve. However, the way I see it, it's not so much that I'm allowing George to control me. It's more a case of just giving him enough time to choose to do the right thing. I'm not willing to be prevented from going through the gate - but I am willing to go through later rather than sooner.

A new way of leading Bridget

Another Pretty Day

Today I took George out to graze on the hay field for half an hour. Amigo sat on my lap while George was eating.

Mollified by his feast, George was relatively benign when I took Bridget out and returned her half an hour later. The effect had worn off, however, by the time I'd taken Chloe out for a little stint. He stood pawing at the gate and made faces at her when I brought her back. However, after letting us know that he was Not Happy, he was gracious enough to move aside and let us get in without any problems.

Rose declined to come out when I asked her, although earlier on she'd come up to me and seemed perhaps to want to go out. Her front leg is much better - the swelling has gone down, and she's walking almost normally again.