A Trophy

Warning ... this is NOT dressage related, equine health related, or even endurance related, but it IS about riding.  No, wait, it's not about riding.  It's about becoming separated from the horse that you are SUPPOSED to be riding.

I guess I should start by saying that there was a span of seven or eight years in which I DID not come off my horse involuntarily.  At all.  Not even close.  I was starting to get a bit boastful about it, too.  Idiot!  

The instant we become arrogant about our perceived riding prowess, some equine happily gives us a very HARD reality check. And it usually happens in front of the maximum number of viewers possible.

This is the truth.  I can't quite remember where I came off, but suffice it to say that I did.  Several times in a short period in fact.  Taz's mom, a friend of MANY years who is allowed to call my bluff, call me out, and bring me back to reality thought it would be funny to "commemorate" my recent spate of bad luck.

That probably doesn't strike you as funny.  Just wait.  Up until the last couple of years, I had been riding horses that I had owned for quite a few years who were now in their teens.  They had become "broke."  She, on the other hand had been riding a young horse from whom she had repeatedly been dumped.  After each saddle-to-ground collision, I would give her the obligatory, "are you okay?" as I smugly complimented my own riding prowess.  "Gee," I would muse, "I haven't come off in such a looong time."  Giggle, giggle.

Well now, as the Church Lady would quip, things have certainly changed.  Taz's mom is now riding a teenaged Taz who is pretty dang "broke" while I am riding Speedy G ... who is not.  So back to why this is funny.  I came off as I've already admitted.  I can't remember when, but I called Taz's mom and boohoo'd a bit while she gave ME the obligatory are-you-okay. Very quickly after, I was presented with this lovely wall plaque.

It's very clever: the art of keeping a horse between you and the ground.  Ha ha. It gets better...  Taz's mom informed me that I was to write my name on the back with the date of when I was last dumped!  When she came off next, I was to return the trophy to her, where she would do the same.

That little gesture ended her run of dumps and spills ... and started mine.

You'll have to scroll down a bit to see how many times HER name has been written on the back compared to the number of times that the honor has been mine.

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I am clearly in the lead.  I think Taz's mom needs a new, YOUNG horse!

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