A Max Size Hole in my Heart

I haven't "blogged" in a while because I have lost something dear to me and my heart is still not right. But I needed to share how devastated I have been and maybe start healing. So bear with me this one time. I will share though that I bought another war pony. His name is Red Hawk and he is going to be my baby's horse eventually (will share more later). So on the the story.

To know me, you must know that I NEVER collected barbie dolls (except the Michael Jackson and the Eskimo one, lol) because all I ever wanted were Pound Puppies and Breyer Horses. Both of them made the little girl I was has happy as can be. But because we lived in the city and were poor I did not get a chance at being around a REAL horse until a little later (when I was in a foster home). But I did get to start my life with dogs as soon as I could beg my mom for a puppy from the next door neighbor when his dog had a litter. My mom couldn't deny me and I named him Gumball because of his round puppy belly he loved to have scratched. It was then that I knew that I was good with animals. I had to tell you why I was going to talk about my dog on my horse blog, because to me the dogs and the horses are one and the same. They both have a piece of my heart.

So. The point. Just before Halloween I had to put down my best friend. His name is/was Maximillion. He was the dog of my dreams. Everything I could ask for. He was my shoulder to cry on, my rock, my protector, my comedian, my partner and my ultimate friend. He was a purebred boxer and I bought him for myself when I graduated college. I had been without a dog for more than four years. I NEEDED a dog in my life again. He came bounding through the home of the people selling puppies after the rest of his siblings had come and gone. I fell in love instantly. I remember it like it was yesterday. He was so tiny and little. He had a tan patch over one eye but not the other and to me it made him all the more perfect. I threw down the only money I had to my name and took home the tiniest boxer puppy.

I had no idea that he would grow to be a 90 lbs. boxer that looked part bulldog because he was so stout and muscular. As a puppy, he was out of control and that's putting it nicely. He was crazy! Yet some how always kept his goodness intact. He would run away from me when I called. He would jump on any man or boy thinking they were his personal play thing. He would chase after the deer and the porcupines and the MOOSE no matter how much I told him he was gonna get hurt. Yeah my dog chased down huge moose just because he could. lol He did it for fun but one time he did it to protect my mom, my baby girl and me. He was fearless. My mom used to complain about him. She honestly hated him. But soon after he grew up a little bit, between 2 and 3 years old, she came to realize that as crazy as he was he was perfect for us. He and my niece (who I will refer to as my daughter from now on) would play for hours together. We knew they were in trouble together when it got quiet. lol He was her constant companion. If she was outside in the yard without him, he would worry and pace til she was inside safe. He adored her.

But he adored me more. He would protect me from anyone, even those he loved and trusted. No one was allowed close to me if he didn't like the energy or if it was too playful. I could call his name and he would run to me, face the demon (like my demon brother, lol) and lean on my leg and prepare for battle. Like I said he was brave and loyal and made me better because he loved me. I trusted him to know when we were playing and when it was real. He always knew. I never worried he would hurt my daughter or get to aggressive with someone else. He just knew me so well and knew what was best for the family. When I traveled for work I felt my mom and kid were safe because I knew my Max was there to protect them. I just knew.

Max wasn't that old, but he was BIG and for big dogs long life is not likely. He aged quickly. Before I knew it my exuberant, crazy puppy was a grizzled, quiet and dignified man of the house. And then he got a limp. I took him to the vet for a something completely different, but I asked them to check his leg out because he was limping. They wanted to do xrays and I knew it was over even before I saw the three inch long mass that had eaten thru he whole ulna (one of the bones in the front leg). I was shocked, how could my dog be WALKING when he was missing a whole chunk of his bone??? The vet said it was normal for large dogs to be so stoic about pain, but my heart hurt from the knowledge that my boy was in pain. The diagnosis was not good. They gave him 3 to 6 months to live. They wanted to amputate but I didn't think my Max would want to lose his Dogness for only a few more months. I thought he would rather live out his days as a WHOLE dog. He got lots of pain meds and was kept comfortable and limited on physical activity so he wouldn't break his leg. We waited and enjoyed our time with him knowing he would let us know when he was ready. It felt like he knew that we knew that he was dying. Like he knew all along and was glad he wasn't alone in the knowledge anymore. He seemed to show his pain more. Though my mom says that he would lay around all day and then act "normal" when I got home from work. She said he waited all day for me to come home, but he would hide his pain from me. He was always so happy to see me, he wriggled his but at me and did a half turn to lean on my leg and lift his face for a kiss and a pet. He waited everyday of his life for me. My schedule is always changing but somehow he always knew. The other dogs seemed to know too he was going to leave us soon. Kuna, his girl, started ignoring him (a more "natural" reaction) but Panda, his adopted daughter, showed him true love. While he sat in his favorite spot outside overlooking our great back yard view, in the shade of course, his Panda would bring him all of their toys to him, every single one of them. She would drop it by his face and wait for him to get up and play. When he didn't she would find him another one. When I got home from work one day, he was still sitting out there surrounded by ten toys and Panda sleeping next her dad. My mom had texted me that she was doing that but I didn't believe her until I got home and saw him buried in his toys. Panda loved him.

His last day the weather was gorgeous. It was the Saturday before Halloween. My mom had told me how horrible he was doing and how he put on the show for me at night when I got home. How he was in way more pain then he would ever let me know. He didn't want me to worry. He wanted to be perfect for me. But it was time, my mom said. We scheduled the appointment for the mobile vet and we had the best day with him we could. A huge bone. All the ball games he loved and hadn't been allowed to do for the fear of a broken leg. A long walk in the back meadow. Lots of loves. His favorite food. Everything was about Max that day. It was a good day to die.

A Quarter this, a Quarter that

From all I have gathered about what life was like before Xashi became my horse I have come to the conclusion that she was at least shown lots of affection. If you ever meet her, you will know that she is extremely personable and very loveable (as long as you don't get on her back! lol) and she wants to be given affection. And for that I am glad. But not much else is known. Obviously, no formal training. And certainly not physically beatings or anything. But that's about it. Her previous owner "rescued" her in some mysterious fashion and brought her to Valley Chapel Farms and a year later I bought her.

I have no idea what her breeding is, not that it's so important. She is obviously a cross. I was told by her previous owner that she is a Quarter Horse cross. When you look at Xashi she is missing the big butt, the bull-dog chest of most modern Quarter Horses.  I had a fellow boarder who owns a Morgan or two say that my description of Xash's personality and short mane and fluffy forelock reminds her of her Morgans. So for a couple months I thought she COULD be Morgan, buuuuuuuuut then the farrier said something that sidetracked that thought.

She said, Xashi's hooves reminded her of the many Mustangs she had worked with over the years. Her hooves are square, strong and compact. They would never have to be shod unless I was doing some kind of extreme sport and used her for hard riding or jumping. She said if it were just based on the hooves, she would bet Xashi is part Mustang. At least her hooves are, lol. I was shocked and yet NOT at all shocked. One of the horses I was very interested in buying before Xashi was some kind of Mustang. So it would only be ironic that the horse that I bought with some unknown origin was actually the breed of horse I was looking for all along.

So because there is not much else to go on and I trust that she knows a little something about horse hooves, I agree with the farrier. Part Mustang and part Quarter horse (because the previous owner had to have something to go on to say she is), and finally part crazy horse. Pun intended.

And I thought why not blog! lol

So. I have decided to blog about my experience working and training my very spirited and "unique" horse, Xashi.

Let me give you some background on how our paths crossed: When I was a little girl I had a horse named Kid. He was a registered Appaloosa that a foster uncle (yes, I was in a foster home) gave to us because as a yearling he got kicked in the face and left a big ole dent. Well, Kid and I fell in love with each other pretty instantaneously. He was not worked with enough, except by me and I was a 9 year old girl with no experience! But we figured each other out. He was my best friend. I felt loved and accepted. In those moments when no one was around and it was just Kid and me in the pasture, I thought I was a horse with no worries, no foster home, no supervised visits, no schoolmates calling me a stupid, greasy Indian. But I couldn't be a horse, so the next best thing was to DREAM of them 24/7. The edges of the "H" Encyclopedia was wrinkled and worn from my obsession. To make a long story short, I had to leave my Kid when I moved to another foster home. I was never the same. I vowed to myself that I would someday own a horse again, one that could never be taken away from me.

That brings us to about a year and a half ago. I was finally at a point in my life where I needed to do for me. Before Xashi I had spent ten years doing for others, living for others, pretty much working my ass off and not doing anything for me. So it was time. I was ready. I searched and obsessed on Craigslist and Dreamhorse, looking for the right horse, the right deal. It took a long time before I could honestly make the decision and when I DID, lol, I made it from the heart.

I had originally contacted the owners of the place where we board to see if there was space for a the horse I eventually bought. Norm, the stable owner, told me there were several horses for sale. He said I should come out and meet one named Soleil. He said, "She is the prettiest horse here and the nicest too." And I thought why the hell not? What's wrong with actually meeting and seeing a live horse instead of looking at horrible, blurry pictures online. I SHOULD have known. I met Norm and he showed me Soleil. Everything he said was true, she was nice and gorgeous to boot. But what did me in, was that it felt like I was anchored to the Earth again. It was like I had been walking through life and any moment I was going to float away into space, never to be seen again. But she made everything right again. She did what no therapy, self-medication or I-don't-care-attitude could ever do.

It was over. I called the owner, made the deal and paid for my Soleil in two paychecks. She WAS MINE! This crazy, loving, athletic and spitfire BUCKSKIN was all mine. Even a year later I still feel that way. I feel like she's going to disappear and it's just one of my many childhood dreams.

Soleil became Xashi (Z-Ah-SH-i). It comes from an old Indian language (yes, I am Native American) and means the same thing as Soliel. Sun or sunshine. But now she has many other names as well. lol Knucklehead, Glue stick, War Pony, Momma's babygirl and many more. lol But you'll have to read my blog to find out how she came to be called some of these.

So now you have the basic story of how I came to own Xashi. As to why I feel motivated to write a blog about our journey? I just feel I will be better if I work it out on paper. I will motivate myself to be positive and forgiving and confident if I share our journey with others. (I think I might need all the help I can get!)

Xashi is the sunshine in my heart.