Conversations With Indy...

Huh? What are you doing?
Is that rectangular thing a treat?

I've had Indy a little over two months now, and while we're still very much in the getting to know you
phase of our partnership, we're starting to understand each other more.  Communicate better. Understand each other's language, so to speak.

You know how horse owners tend to anthropomorphize their horses, assigning voices to them?  How we'll cheerfully tell a friend not only what our Precious Pony did that day, but also what Precious Pony thought about the activity and anything they may have said about it.

In my posts about my mare Sug I'd often include her thoughts and feeling about our adventures, as to me they were as clear and understandable as words on a page.  I had no doubt about her opinions, and had no qualms about sharing them with others.  I'm starting to get to a point where I'm starting to "hear" what Indy is saying.

If I'm standing and holding him and talking to someone he starts to noodge me with his muzzle and I hear this:"Mom. Mom. Mom! Ma! Mama! Mommy!!! Ma!!!"   When I finally turn to him to tell him to stop, I hear, "Hi! Hi Mom!  You've been chatting forever - didja forget me?  I'm right here. Is it time for treats?"

There's when he's on the cross ties and I need to run into the tack room to get something, or god forbid to the bathroom.  If I'm gone longer that 3 minute's I'll hear the sound of cross ties hitting the wall.  Then I'll hear him fidgeting.  If I'm not back at that point I'll either hear the sound of pawing or a short whinny.  When I return his face clearly says, "Oh thank God!!!  I thought you'd left!  Or forgot about me! Or died!  I was soooo lonely. Is it time for treats?"

Then there's when he's on the cross ties and I'm grooming him. Then it's a running commentary. "Oh look!  There's my friend Ray-Ban. Hi, Ray-Ban!  And there's RJ.  Hi, RJ!  Hold it. Is Ray-Ban getting treats?  Hey, Ray-Ban's mom, can I have a treat? PleasepleasepleasePLEEEEEAAAAASSSSEEE!"

When I'm grooming him he'll often twist around to look at me and I swear I hear him say, "Hey Mom!  How was your day?  Mine was good. I ate hay.  And went outside . And ate hay outside. Could you get the curry comb a little more to the left?  Yes, there. Ooh ooh ooh ooh yes!  That's the spot. And there's another spot over on my withers, can you get that one?  And my belly's itchy, too.  Can you do that?  And is it time for treats yet?"

And of course we have our ongoing discussion about the troll in the corner of the indoor arena.  That conversation goes like this: "Troll alert. There's a troll in that corner!" No, Indy.  There are no trolls. Trolls don't exist. "Yes! Yes, they do!  And they eat horses! Especially gray ones." No, Indy, there are no trolls and here is an inside leg telling you to get in to that corner. "Nononononono! There are trolls and they OOOFFF!!! You were serious about that inside leg thing. Okay, I'll move over, but if we get eaten, it's your fault."

If we are having a jumping lesson and we've stopped to wait while someone else does the course, sometimes Indy feels that means his quarter is up and the ride is over. When it's our turn I'll use a little leg to tell him to move off, and we'll have an exchange like this: "What?  Again?  No, we're done.  We stopped. We stood. That means done. No, I don't want to canter anymore.  OOOFFF! Again with the leg! Alright, we can canter if it means that much to you. But after I wanna talk to my union representative." 

There was also the time this Christmas when I asked him to wear antlers. He was less than pleased.

Oh my God!  Mooommmm!  This is soooo embarrassing!
What if one of my friends sees me?  I'll never live it down!