Now I am a real horsewoman because I have fallen off THREE times. The first time was in 1971 when I was 11, the second was in 2005 when I was 45, and the third was this week at age 46.
According to barn custom, I owe to the barn in general, so I hope to get out there tomorrow and/or Sunday with cookies.
We had an evening lesson and Gabby spooked at Bob-Bob, the cat who is missing most of his tail and most of one ear. Bob-Bob was doing his panther imitation (he’s really, really good at it, by the way) by sitting on fense posts and runing back and forth in the arena. It finally got to be too much for Gabby who spooked. Naturally. A 10 pound black cat could, technically, eat you.
So one minute I was riding, the next moment I was flailing and knew I couldn’t stay on, and the moment after that I tried to break my fall with my left arm and my chin and the moment after that I was yelling “I”m alive! I’m alive!” And I was, otherwise I wouldn’t be here rattling on about it.
I stood up too fast for safety’s sake (one needs to remain prone to ensure that one has not broken anything or is in peril of being paralyzed) but nothing bad happened. Gabby was standing there, looking at me. Leah had the post-fall talk with me, I got back on, and Gabby tried to hide by shoving her big horse head under Leah’s arm. She was a little jittery but we did some more trotting. Not much. Mostly I wanted to walk and since we were both walking on eggs, she started to canter at some point which I Did Not Want but settled down. Obviously, she wasn’t punished, yelled at, or anything else negative. She saw a predator. what could she do?