Why "Litter" IS the Appropriate Word for Puppies

The other day I was commenting how interesting our words are to describe groups of animals.  No one was listening, but I commented anyway.  Then because no one was listening I started to google what different groups of animals were called.  This happens often in my life, and I thank goodness someone invented google because google has had great conversations with me!

We have a herd of horses, a litter of puppies (also kitties)--who then grow up into a pack of dogs, while kitties grow up into a clowder or clutter of cats (now raise your hand if you knew that).  Elephants come in herds too.  Chickens are flocked together (like birds of a feather), but hens all together are called broods, and their little ones a clutch. 

Here's where the confusion starts.  You would think that a group of geese (being birds and all) might fall into the same category.  They do, but are more often called a "gaggle" of geese.  When they fly in formation they are called a "muster."  I guess they have to muster the courage to keep going?  Then we get to ducks.  Flock?  Sometimes.  But more often than not they are called a "brace."  And their babies?  A brood.  Go figure.

Ooops....sorry, wrong crows....this is called
a band!


There's a covey of quail (ay yi yi yi yi), a "murder" (YES MURDER) of crows (I hesitate to ask why on this one), a tribe or trip of goats...well, I can go on and on.  But I won't.  If you are interested in what other groups of animals are actually called, go here. 



Now, here are the crows.  Probably a murder.  Or
they committed one and haven't left the scene of
the crime yet!


The point is there are alot of reasons why groups of animals are named different things.  I think I've found the science behind naming puppies a litter. 

Proof #1:  I did not have to apply for a large grant, find a laboratory to sponsor me, and/or study or research the topic for years.  All I needed was one hot, muggy day and a group of eight dogs. Suddenly my cold kitchen tile floor was "littered" with furry bodies.  There you go.  Wikipedia eat your heart out.



This is not my dog.  But it could be.

 Proof #2:  If a cabinet door which leads to the kitchen garbage bag, is left open by mistake, you will come home to find that trash LITTERED all over the floor and at least five dogs looking like it wasn't them and giving the hairy eyeball to the other three who are napping quietly somewhere.

Proof #3:  When you give a dog a large biscuit, and they are hoping for another one in a close proximity of time, like say....oh....three seconds after their first one....instead of eating that biscuit neatly, they will chew rapidly allowing pieces of biscuit to "litter" the floor, and even FASTER dogs who already swallowed their biscuit almost whole, will swoop in, like...oh, that MURDER of crows...to grab whatever fell out onto the floor before the unsuspecting dog can even say "woof."

Proof #4:  They litter my furniture, my lawn, my bed, my foot space, my thoughts--especially when they don't eat their breakfast or dinner and make me worry--yep, litter is the right word for sure!

There you have it.  Another case solved.  Another premise proven.  Another theory put to rest.  Aren't you glad?  I'm littered with happiness.

Aarrroooooo!

Finally, The REAL Truth About Cats!

I guess I need to place a general warning about this post.  Some of the scenes you are about to see described may be disturbing to some people.  Certainly NOT cat owners.  Cat owners come from a regiment that is fit to fight at the scenes of many battles.



Cleo, who lived to be 20 years old, was the
ultimate bird catcher.

 I have an extraordinarily long history with cats.  Longer than my history with dogs or horses.  A cat was the only house animal my mother would let me keep as a pet for the longest time...hence the reason for my long term fascination.

I wasn't even thinking about covering this subject until I found a dead animal body on our patio this past week, and rescued a chipmunk from the clutches of one of our cats yesterday.  Cats, who are vivisection specialists, often leave their dead kill for us humans to find.  Some say it's to show what good employees they are, others say it's to teach us how to hunt, just like they teach their offspring.  I honestly do not pay my cats to go out and kill things, and I've told them many times that I will not hunt mice ever, no matter how many times they "show me."  Still the bodies show up. 



Emma, the mildest of our cats.  She was simply
a bug catcher.  She lived to the age of 16.

 In the Spring and Summer months, the general kill zone seems to bathe our entire development in a swath of destruction.  I am truly surprised that there are not many Hollywood studios that have capitalized on the pure destruction of cats and produced movies such as:  Night of the Living Dead Cats, Zombie Cats, The Great Cat Massacre, and Scarey Cat Movie. 

The cat swat team arrives en force to terrorize our neighborhood.  These cats come from various armies, including one on the hill not too far away from where we live, where all the cats are feral, and certainly good fodder for a Steven King book.



TD on the left and Oggie on the right.  Oggie was
the largest cat we ever owned.  TD came with our
present house when we purchased it.

 There are generally two factions who think and discuss the topic of "outside" cats.  Some folks believe that cats should stay in the house, some folks believe that cats should only stay outside.  I guess there is also a middle of the road faction, who believe that cats should do both, enjoy the outdoors and have a soft spot to land inside the house when not patrolling their respective areas.

I think it depends on where you live.  If you live in areas where there is alot of traffic, major roadways, large numbers of cat preditors--such as coyotes, fox, large swooping birds--I think making a cat stay inside is probably the best decision for the longevity of the cat.  If you live somewhere similar to where we live--no traffic, no access to traffic, over 200 acres to roam adjacent to our farm, approximately seven acres of farm, etc.--then I believe letting the cats outside to sun themselves, enjoy the greenery (cats do like to eat grass) and just be cats, is a fine idea.



Gus on left and Harry on right.  Best friends.  Both are
the smallest cats we've ever owned.

 Our cats spend most of the summer outside playing or climbing trees.  I always bring them in as dusk settles, and they stay in for the night.  In the winter, you can't get the cats to go outside.  It's too cold and they don't want to step in the snow.  They are not dumb.  They also know that any prey may have moved inside--for example to the barn or garage, and tend to want to be in both those spots just sitting like a statue staring at spots where they may have previously seen some activity.

So, the animal I found on the patio was unidentifiable.  I'm not an animal forensic expert, but I'd say it was a mole or a mouse.  I couldn't really tell because parts were, uh, missing.  Dr. Strangelove had already performed a lobotomy, so the, er, head part was essentially, well......changed.  I've had to build up, over the course of my years of cat ownership, a resistance to wretch violently and add to the messes I find.  Still there are some unexplainable cat things that have occurred, which I find lend to the "personalities" of certain cats we have owned.

For instance, there was Cleo, who used to climb to the top of any bush (I mean ANY bush) and lie in wait just below the surface for a bird to fly close.  She would leap up from the bush like a guerilla warfare agent lying in ambush waiting for the enemy, and grab the bird.  I warned our neighbors, at the time, that no bird feeder could be high enough.  Our one neighbor tried to put their bird feeder on an 18 foot pole that they then placed in a large (12 foot high) bush to protect it.  Watching out my kitchen one day, I saw a white blur of cat leap from the top of the 12 foot bush the extra feet to grab a bird flying to the feeder.  Cleo was also the cat who was stalked by a pair of very large black birds for YEARS.  These birds remembered that she was the cat who robbed their nest of its fledglings, and they would dive bomb her every time she was in the yard.  It got to the point we had to keep her in the house if we wanted to cook out, because the birds would dive so low, they could hit us.

There was also Muffin, who collected the tails of her kills in a makeshift trophy room under the stairs of our front porch when we lived elsewhere.  We discovered them when we had a backed up sewer system, and Roto Rooter had to go under our porch for access.  There were all kinds of mementos under that porch.  It was freakishly scarey.  We continued to love that cat, but we slept with our door closed.

We had another cat that left a rabbit head, in Godfatheresque style, on the welcome mat of our front porch.  I'm not sure what the message was there....perhaps, "change my food, I hate what you are feeding me" or "I hate that new dog you brought home?"

Bootsie, my aunt's cat, who lived with us for a
short time when my aunt had to move.

In catdom, we have owned many types of cats, those described above, as well as the heart extractor, bunny specialist, chipmunk chaser and squirrel stalker.  We've had fixes for all of them, including training one of our dogs to "get the cat" when we heard a bunny's doleful squeal on the property (this was our Australian Shepherd, Phillie, who would dash out the door and chase the cat who would drop the bunny--the bunny would be put in a covered box for about 12 hours until the shock went away and then would be released in a safer place--at least a safer place in my mind).  Our kids, while growing up, knew that a covered box in the spare room was a bunny that needed to be left alone to calm down. 



Church lived with us for 18 months after being
abandoned in an old barn.  She was a very old cat.

 So getting right down to the real truth about cats.....they can be pretty disgusting creatures.  In saving the chipmunk yesterday, I had to stalk my cat Harry without him knowing it, because he would have run off to a place where I'd never find him.  He laid, instead, in the grass.  After he dropped the chipmunk, in order to "play" with it for a while before the big kill, I was able to hone in and grab him to confine him to house arrest.  He already wears the orange striped suit.  I then went back with a pair of gloves and carried the dazed chipmunk back to the wall between our horse paddocks.  It went in gratefully, chirping what I'd like to think is a "thank you."  Now, I dislike chipmunks.  They are cute, but truth be told they are rodents.  And so Harry was simply "doing his job" which is ridding the barn area of rodents who ultimately can create large holes in the flooring around the barn as they set up their tunnel network.  But, I just can't stand by and watch the destruction of a chipmunk, mouse, bunny, or any animal, if I can still intervene.  It's the dilemma of my existence, and of my cat ownership.

When you couple all I've said above with cat hairball technology, you wonder why we own them at all?  Nothing can make you sit up from a dead sleep as fast as a cat wretching a hairball.  That sound is unique in the animal world.  I've perfected a series of "grab and run" moves that allows me to at least get the wretching cat to a cleanable surface, instead of the persian rug.

So why do we own them?  They can be very lovely creatures.  It's the Jekyll and Hyde of cats.  They are smart.  They figure things out.  They learn quick.  They are aloof when they want to be, friendly when they want to be...kind of like us.  When they are friendly, they are cuddly, cute, playful beings.  They keep you company when you are sad (we had a cat named T.D. who knew just how sad I was when one of our dogs crossed the bridge, and he would lay by me every night, much in the same way that particular dog did). They seem to have an inner soul that knows things--both our cats Cleo and Muffin were loved by other families in our neighborhood.  One family had a special couch for Muffin to lay on when she visited them and an older, invalid woman down the street hosted Cleo on the edge of her bed for an afternoon nap a few times a week.  They purr--that most soothing of sounds that shows happiness and true contentment.  I count myself lucky to have fallen asleep to a cat purring on my chest.

Cats are an endless source of enjoyment when they are at their best, and, yes, it is true, they aren't as much work as dogs.  An automatic cat feeder, auto water bowl and litter box, can keep a cat happy for a few days while you make a short jaunt to a B&B or other mini-vacation.  Not so with dogs.

We have two cats that grace our life and our patio right now...Harry and Gus.  We've owned up to five at a time. We've rescued and rehomed three to other unsuspecting cat owners in the last 10 years.  We took in a cat in such bad shape, found in a local barn, that we named her Church, after the cat in Pet Semetary, because she really did look like someone buried her and then she came back to life.  While she only lived with us for 18 months before her past neglected life caught up, she had a fine and grand life in those last months, and began to even look like a cat again.

It's safe to say that I know the real truth about cats and I accept it, I just hate cleaning up after it.

Aarroooooo!

Mom...Where is our furniture?

My dogs are all looking at me like I'm a traitor.  In the last week, furniture keeps disappearing from the family room.  This is important furniture because they lay on it.



Our lovely furniture in its heydays!

 At one point we had a 3-seater couch, 2-seater love seat and chair in our family room.  We ordered new furniture several months ago, and got the call that it was finally going to be delivered TODAY!  We got the call last week.  I made arrangements for the delivery.

In the meantime, our 7-year-old leather furniture grouping was on it's last legs.  It certainly has lasted very well considering I never have covered it.  I just started covering it in the last month to hold it together until the new furniture arrived.  It's taken quite a beating from us, our dogs, our grandkids, you name it.  It's a testament to the makers that it held up as long as it did.  But when it began to crumble, it crumbled fast.  We've once again chosen a tough leather blend, and this time I'm going to cover it with dog appropriate furniture covers which I've obtained through Bed, Bath & Beyond.  I'm hoping for 10 years out of the next set.

So, in the past few weeks, we've removed the 3-seater couch to the garage, waiting for a landfill trip with our truck.  It's kind of nice in the garage because Moe, who hates his feet wiped, has been jumping on it regularly to avoid the towel, and laying inconspicuously there until he can rush the house door.  It's worked several times, until we got used to it occuring and headed him off at the pass.  Also, our dog Winston will jump up there and lay down when he's tired of being in the yard.



One of the many places Harry likes to hide!

Today, we added the chair to the mix of disappearing furniture, and loaded both the couch and chair in the truck to head to that great landfill in the sky, along with some other items that needed taking.  As is typical in our lives, this is never just an easy process.  Once the couch and chair had been loaded this morning, I got on the phone with J.C. Penney's warehouse to find out when the furniture delivery would happen.  I was put on hold and while waiting watched my husband drive the truck on the back road toward our horse barn to pick up some additional items.  Then suddenly I saw an orange streak jump out of the loaded furniture and land on the tailgate of the truck.  It was HARRY!!!!!  Our cat Harry was now on the moving vehicle headed toward the barn.  I'm on hold on the phone still in my pajamas and slippers.  It is raining outside.

I run out onto the patio, and begin to run across the yard, still on hold with the phone on my ear, waving my other hand wildly for my husband to stop the truck.  My husband is probably trying to figure out what in the world I am doing.  I am hard to figure out sometimes.  Finally he stops and I scream HARRY IS ON THE BACK OF THE TRUCK.....turns out I am screaming it into the ear of the customer service representative who has now joined the call.  Oh my.  Well, I figure, that is the least J.C. Penney's can do is hear me scream about my cat since they ultimately ARE NOT delivering our furniture today.  That old system glitch (the second one we've now experienced with this furniture and this company) went into overdrive and we are NOW scheduled for next weekend. 

Ultimately we have one loveseat to sit on in the family room, and alot of dog pillows.  We also have a bunch of dogs looking at us with soulful, disgusted glances, one now dry cat who, it so happens, leaped off the truck when he heard me screaming, and a more empty garage.  I'm going for a nap on the dog pillow.

Aarrroooooo!

Playtime

I've come to the conclusion that there are very few living things that do not play in some way.  Even trees probably have a good laugh in the spring as they shower my patio with those tiny helicopters or budlets that are hard to remove with a broom.  "Ha ha ha human, let's play dodgeball....take that and that and that and that...." is what I expect they are saying to each other as I try to read my book in the chair on my porch only to be hit with tree debris.

The obvious play animals are kittens and puppies.  Kittens are like those wind-up play toys.  They start out really really fast, stay that way for a while, then trickle down to a nap on the couch.  They also have an element of surprise, where they stalk your leg or foot and then suddenly pounce like army guerilla warfare.  It's a quick hit and then a retreat under the chair.

Compared to kittens, puppies are the six-million-dollar-man play animals--slow motion rolls, pouncing on each other.  There is the occasional fast puppy run, but most often than not, puppies wrestle.  It's who-can-pin-down-whom the longest, and who can stay on the mat.

Animals can be taught not to play as well.  I think this is a rather sad state of affairs.  In January we took in a foster dog that has fearful dog issues.  It's taken quite a long time to get him relaxed enough for him to remember what it was like to play, and really enjoy it.  Some dogs we've taken in have had no idea what a toy is.  What a sad state of affairs that their humans didn't teach them the sheer joy of playtime, or foster it in their puppyhood.

I've had very few cats that I could not tempt with a feather on a stick, or a cat-nip filled toy mouse.  But dogs, on the other hand--well, there have been a few who needed to relearn play.

I once read an article that said you should play with your cats every day in some way.  It makes them feel loved.  Sometimes that sucks me into buying odd play toys when I'm at the pet store.  For instance, I recently bought this ball that has a feather on a stick coming out of the middle of it.  You rotate the feather (like a wind-up rubber band plane--remember those?) and then put the ball down and the feather goes round and round and round very fast, then gets slower and slower.  Both of our cats just blinked at it.  "Ho hum...look what SHE bought.  As if we are going to play with that!"

Turns out you can pull a long blade of grass from outside and they will play with that on the patio for about 10 minutes, or a rolled up piece of paper that you help bat around. 

In the end, our cats like to play with each other the most, or pretend they are great hunters stalking our chickens.

Today I was checking out photos of our dogs playing and noticed that we have two dogs who seem to always be in the middle of the play at some point--Bethy and Piper.  Piper needs a tag team play crew.  He tires out all the dogs that are willing to play with him, and is still looking for others to play with.  Maybe I can start putting ads in the newspaper and hiring dogs to come up and play with him.  Piper is our deaf Border Collie that does not fetch.  Have we tried it?  Oh yes, you bet we have!  We've tried to teach Piper the great skill of retrieving, but he excels at perimeter patrol and one-on-one dog play.  When he is frustrated because the other dogs ARE NOT playing, he will begin to bark very loudly right in their faces.  He is relentless.  Piper will also play with a toy (mostly a stuffed toy or rope toy or frisbee) himself, throwing it up in the air and catching it, but the minute you pick it up and throw it, he is done.



Bethy and Moe playing.



Bethy is the dog that all the other dogs WANT to play with, because she is fast and they can't catch her.  But she decides who she will and will not play with.  She will fetch a ball or toy, and often tries to catch it in her paws, which is really cute.

Pete and Gifford start to play. This photo is from 2010.

Horses play too.  Sometimes, and to the unaccustomed eye, it may seem like harsh activity, but it really is play time.  Horses are very good at removing each others halters, or blankets in the winter, as part of their "play" activities.  We do not turn out our horses in halters, but for those that do, it's a common practice to have to go around the field looking for them, as they pull them off of each other.



Pete and Gifford as play escalates.  This is not
aggressive, this is playtime.



We are coming into the Spring and Summer months....big playtime season.  I'm looking forward to watching all the play activities around me, both on the farm and off, after this very long unplayworthy winter!

Aarrooooooo!

Two Angels Visited Us

I'm sure that many of you who have been on the internet for a long time, have seen this story.  It's my favorite story.  If you have not seen it, it's a good one to remember.

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.
When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem."  The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest.
When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field.
The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel, "How could you have let this happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him. The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die."
"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied. "When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it."
"Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem."



Portrait of Gifford
April 5, 1999 - May 7, 2011

 It's this story specifically which I always turn to when times of hardship occur in our lives.  Yesterday, May 7, we experienced a time of extreme hardship. We lost our horse Gifford.

Many of you had just read the "Gifford Chronicles."  It seems it was fitting to get that story out, and certainly timely.  Now Gifford has gone on another excellent adventure.  I'd like to think where he is he is enjoying lots of grass and has some good buddies.  He was such a special horse.

It turns out that horses, like people, have some of the same illnesses.  Gifford died from what my vet believes was an aortic aneurysm.  It was a very quick and painless death.  One minute Gifford was here, and the next he was gone.  There are no real symptoms in most horses, and this particular illness is hard to find.  Gifford was 12 years old. 

I am comforted in that he had a wonderful life, never having to do much, and always trusting people and anything we tried with him, because that is just the kind of horse he was.  He was kind and gentle, always gave your hand a lick, and listened very well when he heard his name.



One of my most favorite photos of Gifford!

 There are certainly a few very funny Gifford stories that I will always remember.  He was such an escape artist.  One morning, after I'd stayed up very late watching a movie, and fell asleep on the couch, I woke up, sat up and looked out the big windown in our family room.  In a groggy fog, I thought:  "Oh, look....Gifford is eating grass in the yard."  Then I laid back down.  Then I sat BOLT upright...."GIFFORD IS EATING GRASS IN THE YARD?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  He's supposed to be in the paddock!  Well, he had removed the gate, carefully lifting it from the hinge pin holders, and left the paddock.  Since that time, our gates have been installed upside down so that when lifted up, the pins do not lift out of their holders.



Gifford and his best buddy Pharaoh.  Pharaoh called
for him for the rest of the day yesterday.  He knows
he is gone because he was with him when he passed.

 Another time, when Gifford escaped his stall in the middle of the night, he went around and took all the horse blankets off their blanket racks and piled them in a pile in his stall, then went about taking the clock in the barn apart and leaving the pieces lying on the floor.  He had a very rubbery nose that acted like a hand for him.  We fixed our stall doors with stall locks after that incident.

This great escape artist has escaped once again.  Unfortunately, this time, we have no fix.  We will miss him greatly and hope to see him again someday.

The Kentucky Trip - Final Installment

The Sales Ring

September 15, 2005

Day 7 – FOURTH DAY OF SALE

We have been arriving five minutes late these past two days so that we can do stalls instead of walk horses.  It saves your arm for the rest of the day.  Sometimes you have to use cunning in order to survive.

Yesterday I did three stalls and walked one horse.  Today,  I managed to avoid walking all together and just did four stalls.  This morning was HELL.  Very busy and very muggy.  I decided to approach today with the mindset that every hour that went by, was one less hour I had to work and one hour closer to the end of this sale day—the final day.  I love horses and I love being with horses, but these are special circumstances...ones where your body is screaming that you can't possibly stand up on your feet for another 12-hour day, let alone handle a yearling which may try to pull your arm out of its socket if something spooks or scares it, or if it decides it wants to run and join other yearlings in the yard.

I did not end up accompanying Robert and the Dixie Union colt to the sales ring.  The colt was acting up this morning and they wanted a more experienced groom to go along, so Ryan was chosen.  I think the real reason a groom goes, is not just to groom the horse, but to take over the walking of the horse and the showing at the sales ring, in case something happens to the original walker.  Say you were lambasted with a pair of hooves, or stomped by a rearing horse.  Too bad!  Gotta get that yearling to the ring!  Groom takes over and leaves you lying there to be helped eventually by someone who doesn’t have to take a yearling to the ring.  I never did PROVE OUT this theory, but I still hold it!



This is the entrance to the outer sales ring.  The handler will
stand the horse between the two railing while the groom does
a quick "top off" here.



So, I actually groomed for Judy when she took a horse up, which was MUCH better, because Judy is an excellent teacher and was able to give me plenty of pointers on the way.  Judy took the Hip #966 colt out of Touch Gold/Mop Squeezer.  For the most part, the colt was very good, except when he got to the outer show ring (an enclosed ring before the main sales area), the colt became nervous and nearly reared up once.  Soon he settled and was fine and seemed to handle the rest of the journey pretty well.

I did my “groom” thing, following the showman to the ring, then moving to a middle area where grooms go, waiting for the horse to be transferred to the first crossover chute to a smaller ring.  You follow the showman to this smaller, really and absolutely CRAZY area, where you do a quick top off of the horse, if it can possibly stand still, to remove any last remnants of stone dust, give the hooves a quick polish, etc.

People do not take their lives very seriously who stand in this second smaller ring area with the showmen.  These colts and fillies are now in a small area with colts and fillies they have not seen before, and many many things can go wrong.  While there is a barrier wall for the buyers to stand behind, they do not.  They walk through here like they are walking on the beach enjoying the sand between their toes.  I could never figure out why folks who are supposed to understand horses, put themselves in harm’s way of a horse, knowing what can happen.  The only conclusion I can come to is, they really DON’T understand the horse very well, but think they do.

From the smaller ring, you move to a chute near to the door to the main sales floor.  The showman will hand off the horse to a sales floor individual after passing through the door.  The groom’s job here is to make sure the horse goes THROUGH the door before leaving the showman…the showman continues on through the door with the horse (remember, these horses may only know you for a week, but they KNOW YOU, and they don’t know what is through that door, so sometimes the groom may have to encourage them from behind to continue through).  Once the handoff is made, the showman waits inside for the horse to be auctioned, and the groom leaves by a side gate and waits to meet the showman outside for the walk back with the horse.  Judy’s colt sold for $110,000.

I’m not sure you can call it a WALK back.  Horses seem to want to RUN back, so you really have to settle them.  I guess there was some merit in being one of the last barns to sell and being so far away after all.  The walk to and from the sales ring went through VERY QUIET barns—barns that were left empty earlier in the week by groups that had already made their sales.  Walking through the shed rows in these quieter surroundings was truly an advantage.

As the day progressed, less shows were needed in the yard back at our barn #38.  I held two horses for Tracey to groom and ready for the show ring.  None of the horses were allowed to lay down today.  This was somewhat disheartening to me.  I know they were tired.

When it came my turn to take Hip #1222 (out of Carson City/Dhaka) I was ready.  Amanda was my groom and we set off for the sales ring.  There is a road you have to cross over after you go through a series of shed rows.  This was the only place this colt stopped and looked around, somewhat unsure, but he mostly listened to me talk to him, and although he sometimes trotted a little in hand, he was relatively good to handle.  Even as we approached the very active and loud outer sales ring, where you stop to have your groom dress the feet and do a quick brush, he simply walked in with me and we got into the centrifugal force that is made up of all the showmen and colts/fillies, walking in circles until their numbers are called to move further into the bowels of the Keeneland sales rings.

I did about 10 shows in the outer ring.  These are people who come up and ask you to “stand the colt” or walk the colt this way.  You basically do what you would do in the yard in about 25 feet of space!  Even as we moved from the circling outer ring to standing in the chute area (in preparation to go to the inner ring), this colt stood very well.   I did two more small “shows” in the chute for interested buyers.  I was finally moved to the smaller ring, with the nutty people who have no regard for their life, and my job was to keep the colt quiet and calm.  It wasn’t a hard job even though there were other horses who were not happy campers and who were leaping sideways or stomping on those nutty people who insisted they needed to be THAT CLOSE to a horse. 



A photo of the inside of the Keeneland Sales Ring.



Finally my number was called to go into the even smaller chute.  Amanda did her final cleaning and then I was being ushered through the door into the auction ring.  The handler took the colt from me, and I leaned against the wall and watched the tiered room full of bidders go to work.  The bidding is very fast.  You are in and out of that sales ring within two to three minutes.  I've found a video of the ring which you can see by clicking here.  This video is interesting for many reasons.  First, some of you may recognize the filly being sold.  This is ZENYATTA, and she was sold at the same September sale which I worked.  Second, as the camera pans right for the first time, you will see Zenyatta's handler in an orange shirt leaning against the wall, trying to be inconspicuous.  That would be the same spot where I stood waiting for my colt to be sold.  Finally, there is a very good close up of the chifney bit and shank lead and how these are used and attached to the leather halter.  My colt was sold in a matter of three minutes for $60,000.  Wow!  He was then handed back to me and I left through a different door and met Amanda.  

The colt, true to form, was a handful on the “walk” back, (and now you have to remember you are walking a $60,000 colt back!!!!) but eventually he just walked quietly and we got there.  I had done it.  I had made it to the sales ring and back with a yearling, and I felt pretty darn good about it!  Although I understand a number of folks didn’t think this colt would be too kind to me, he proved them all wrong and I proved that I do have a good feeling about good horses.

In the end, that was the only horse I took to the ring.  I did another grooming stint, got involved in more readying of the colts and fillies for the ring, but they didn’t need me to take another one up.  I wasn’t disappointed.  I was happy to have experienced what I experienced that day.

At the end of the day, the Distorted Humor/Hello Barbara Sue colt (there is a photo of me waiting to show this colt in one of the other blog posts on this subject) was the horse that sold for the most from our barn.  He brought in $435,000.  I was the groom for this horse when he was taken up to the sales ring.  The second highest was the Dixie Union/Mandy’s Classic colt that went for $200,000.  In my personal opinion, it was going to take another $200,000 to train this colt, because he was nuts.

In the midst of others taking horses to the ring, and acting as grooms, the new owners of Hip #1158 (Touch Gold/Bavarian Girl colt) came to take photos of him.  I happened to be the only one out front at the time, as this was in the afternoon, when shows were infrequent at our barn due to it being sales day.  The woman owner approached me and asked me if I would take the horse out for photos.  Again, I had no one to ask, and no protocol for this, but I figured, what the heck…it’s the last day.

I pulled the colt and proceeded, for the next 20 minutes to try and pose him as the owners requested for their photo shots.  Light had to be just so, and no we had to stand at this tree and not that one, and could I make him stand up a bit straighter.  The entire time I smiled and said wonderful things.  They thanked me profusely and as I went to put the colt back into his stall, the woman followed me and slipped something into my back pocket.  It turned out to be a GREAT tip!  I asked Judy about this and she said that I earned it and that I should keep it.  I was glad that this colt could finally lay down now.  He was beat.

My favorite horse, besides this particular colt, whom I felt I could trust and had a brain, was a filly out of Elusive Quality/Lord Remember Me (Hip #1335).  I wonder what has happened to her.  I think I’ll try to look her up and see what became of her. 

When the day was over, we handed in our shirts, thanked everyone, and Judy and I said our goodbyes.  Some of the folks would remain for the second week of the sales for this barn, but Judy and I signed on for just one week.  I was so thankful for that.  While I had made it, my body would need about two weeks to recover from this experience.

On this last sales day, after a relaxing shower, we sat around and talked and fell into bed.  It was a luxury to sleep until 7:30 a.m.—okay, maybe it was 8:00 a.m. and have a leisurely breakfast on the deck.



Entrance to The Red Mile racetrack.



Gainsborough's Breeding Facility (I hesitate to call
it a barn!)



Judy and I took a trip to see Gainsborough Farm and the stud Quiet American.  We also stopped at The Red Mile racetrack.  I’ve included some photos here from that experience.  We also found a lovely outdoor event, and accompanied by Joanne, we attended an outdoor festival full of tents with crafts and good food. 



Me standing in the gardens at Gainsborough.



The following morning, we set out for home, stopping once again to stay overnight at Sue’s near Pittsburgh.  We bought some perennials to bring home with us, and the roses I have planted in my front garden always remind me of that trip to Kentucky, when I worked my buns off learning about the inner-workings of the upscale horse sales industry—and the Thoroughbred market.

Would I do it again?  Remember in the very first blog post on this subject I told you of two things I would never do no matter the amount of money?  Well, now there are three.

The Kentucky Trip - Part III

There Is Nothing That Isn't Sore

September 13, 2005

Day 5 – Tuesday – SECOND DAY OF SALE

Today was more of the same in terms of the morning routine.  This morning I did three stalls, walked three horses, held a horse for a bath (yes, this time I got involved and very wet), groomed 5 horses and raked the aisles before getting dressed to show at 7:30 a.m. (we started at 5:00 a.m. again).  It took me 10 minutes in the car to change.

Today was not as busy in the morning, but had moments when a lot of people would arrive at once to see horses.

Judy and I tried to take pictures of each other showing the horses today.  We’ll try to get more tomorrow.  At one point today, a very important middle-eastern client (whose name I do not remember) brought his entourage with him and we had somewhat of an “all show.”  In general, I think we only had two “all shows” all day.

The thing that disturbs me a bit about this work is this particular group always tries to find “busy work” for you to do instead of allowing some breaks from the oppressive standing on your feet all day.  I take my own breaks by walking to the bathroom or getting a water and going to the backside of the barn where we only have the four horses--just to be quiet for a few minutes and to speak to no one and get back inside my head.  There also seems to be a few individuals who have somewhat of a "Napoleon" complex.  You know how most people will say that there are crazy people involved with horses?  There ARE crazy people involved with horses.  And some of what goes on at Keeneland is really CRAZY!

There are two people I feel that, ultimately, if I had to work with them forever, I would have to shoot myself.  They both have one thing in common-- they really have no life beyond this horse world.  In some ways that's very sad, in others it's very telling of the types of people you find handling horses.



The front yard area at a relatively quiet time.



I am learning and being trusted with more duties and more horses.  Today the horses were easier to handle in the morning and easier to handle in the yard.  Sometimes I think that too many horses are sent out into the yard at once.  When there are so many colts and fillies out in the yard together, something is bound to happen.  Not to mention, we SHARE the yard with P Farms, and they are using spots to show as well.  It is so hard on the ground due to the heat, we have to water the yard and rake it when there is a lull, to keep the horses from getting stonedust on them.  It was close to 94 degrees today!

I've also learned about a new use for Bigeloil Horse Liniment.  I have this in my own tack cabinet at home, and previous to this foray into the Kentucky unknown, I thought it's uses were limited to sore muscles in horses.  Well, Bigeloil (pronounced beagle-oil), in a spray bottle can--ahem--discourage a young colt from his amorous intentions.  One or two sprays of Bigeloil, strategically placed shall we say, gets the colts mind OFF of that pretty filly, and onto the area where the Bigeloil was sprayed and the fact that it stings.  Bigeloil can be a lifesaver, literally, when you are packed in a yard with colts and fillies.

This morning the powers that be intentionally split Judy and I up to work.  I worked a team with Leo.  We groomed together and he is very good at holding the horse, so I didn’t have to worry about doing the horse’s feet.  Some holders are not good, and don’t command the horse well in terms of standing still. Leo, for being as quiet as he is, really does a good job of it.  I also like working with Amanda and Marty from the Kentucky Equine Management program.  These girls both work very hard, and it is obvious they like and respect horses.

I watched the riders breeze horses out on the track today in the mist under the lights this morning while eating breakfast.  What a sight to behold.  Wish I had a camera that could take that picture, but I don’t think the lighting is right for the little Fuji box camera I bought.  I left my good camera at home.

It seems different people are under different contracts and come in at all different times.  Tracey comes in at 6:30 a.m. and polishes brass.  She also calls cards (a prospective buyer walks up to her or Karl and obtains their cards to fill out and she and Karl then call out the horses to be brought out, topped off and shown in the yard).  Raymundo and Antonio have to be there at 3:00 a.m.!! YIKES!!! And here I am complaining about 5:00 a.m.!  Tom, a showman, comes in at 6:30 a.m.

For the work we are doing, we are paid $175.00 per day as showmen/grooms, and we get a daily stipend for rooming, but I’m unsure what that is at this point, and quite frankly, I don't think it would pay for a room for even one day, let alone a full week.



That's me waiting to show in
94 degree weather.



I am working very hard, and my body is feeling it.  Although I hadn't felt like eating too much these last few days, today's lunch--sandwiches, apples and brownies--was one where I ate every morsel. 

I'm so thankful for our wonderful hostess, Joanne, and her comfy house at the end of the day.  The best shower is the one we get at the end of the day...after all the stonedust, heat, sweating, and horsey by-products that attach themselves to you, a nice, soothing hot shower is a real healer for the mind and body.

I’m going to sleep.  It's only 9:30, but I am spent.  I am looking forward to what tomorrow will bring and new things I may be learning, but with some trepidation.

September 14, 2005

Day 6 – THIRD DAY OF SALE

Well, I woke up twice last night, but not for very long, and only because my right shoulder, arm and hand were numb and my feet hurt.  It was so difficult to press my body into service today, but I decided not to walk horses and to do stalls instead, so I could get the lactic acid working in my muscles, and get the soreness out of my arms, neck and shoulders.  The first stall I did took so much gritting of my teeth because the soreness was so pervasive.  But by stall number three I was able to move a bit more fluidly, and then moved into helping to get the grooming boxes together to place by the stalls for the morning groom.  I did end up walking one horse.

The horses are now very much into the routine, but some folks are too heavy handed (in my opinion) with them and so some of the yearlings become fearful.  I find if you talk to them, and even wait for fillies and colts to come to you at the door of their stall instead of rushing in, they are a lot calmer and easier to get along with.

Today I showed Hip #1071—the horse that only men were allowed to take out at first.  No one else was available at the time, and I found myself being called to get his number, as a client wanted to see him.  It was quite a successful showing, and I felt that both the colt, and I, had progressed enough to make it happen.



Joe, waiting with a spray bottle of water, to follow me
and the horse I am showing.



I now know everyone’s names and assignments.  GROOMS:  Judy, myself, Amanda, Marty, Leo, Antonio, Ryan, Raymundo, Bill, Jody.  SHOWMEN:  Judy, myself, Antonio, Raymundo, Paul, Robert, Bill, Jody, Kathy, Tom.  CARDS:  Tracy and Karl (they call the numbers as the cards are handed in by the clients).  COMPUTER:  Beth.  CHASERS:  Joe and Lori (when the horses are tired and not moving well, they come out with spray bottles of water to spray at the horses’ legs to move them along).  Kathy also does manes, fixes cuts/marks, and does the final prep for the sales ring.

Today was a VERRRY stressful day, as the owner’s son was there all day and so the card callers felt they had to be on everyone ALL DAY LONG.  They started saying things we’ve never heard before, trying, I think, to make the owner’s son feel they HAD ACTUALLY said them before, and were just reminding us.  Not so.  And, to be frank, the owner’s son wouldn’t have won a Human Resource Award today himself.

He pulled aside three showmen and gave them a real “what for” about the way they were showing the stock (not keeping their shank lead neat in their hand, not standing up straight, etc.), so one of the card callers felt the need to lecture everyone yet again.  I’m not adverse to lecturing.  In fact, I welcome lecturing if it has a purpose and teaches something, but this was pure “see, I’m telling them too” lecturing.  No purpose, no need.

You could not sit down at all today unless you were eating lunch or you created your own getaway spot.  I took a few long walks to the bathroom, or took my brief interludes to the back side of our barn for some quiet time.

There were no over-the-top major mishaps today, but Judy’s toe did get stepped on and I believe it was because there were too many people and horses in the yard at the time.  Horses, in my opinion, were also being sent out too soon, and not topped off well (still some straw in their manes, whites not completely clean, etc.).



A better view of the yard.  The concrete structure
is the spot we drag our burlap filled with soiled stall
bedding in the wee hours of the morning.



I drank so much water today, I thought I would float away.  ALL of our horses will go to the sales ring tomorrow.  Horses have actually been going up to the sales ring all week, but there are many barns, and many horses, which is why there are so many days to the sale.

I was asked which horses I felt comfortable enough to take to the ring tomorrow and I mentioned the colt Hip #1222.  I get along well with him.  He does try to bite when you go in to chifney him in the stall, but once you are over that, he is generally a good boy.  So I have been assigned to take both him and Hip #1331 (a colt from the backside).  Amanda will be my groom both times.  I am to go up with Robert as his groom on hip #947 (the Dixie Union colt) so that I will get to see how to get to the sales ring.

Tom spent a bit of time with me today explaining what grooms should do and where to go while the showman shows the horse.  However, unbeknownst to anyone, on a bathroom break, I went up to the ring to see what it was like.  I wanted to go to sleep tonight having seen and knowing what I am up against tomorrow.

Suffice it to say, it is a long walk and quite crazy, especially considering I will be walking a yearling who has never been exposed to any of this before.  While they’ve gotten into a routine in the yard, walking to the sales ring will be a different experience.  I did see quite a few yearling “explosions” occurring in the outer ring before the sales ring.  Horses leaping, rearing, jumping sideways.

One incident that occurred today involved me being approached by some people in the back barn shed row area to show hip #1297.  It was at a particularly quiet time, with people on breaks, or some showing in the front yard.  I happened to be in the back area cleaning--raking the pathway--steadfastly following the "owner is on the premises" rules that had been set up in the morning. 

These enterprising horse buyers had a spot in the yard on the back barn side all picked out and ready for me to show him. No one orientated me as to the protocol for this type of thing, so I had to decide between actually doing as requested or sending them to our front shed row for cards.  My theory was that the very-wealthy-people-club (whom these folks obviously were card carrying members of) do not generally have a lot of patience.  I had been exposed to this club all week, and knew that my job was to cater to their needs, whatever they were.  So I made an executive decision, got the horse out, and showed him with no incident.  After putting the colt back up I found Tracey and immediately told her what happened and that there was no one else around for me to ask at the time.



That's me showing a colt to a client.



Turns out I should have sent them to the front, even if they had to wait for someone to show up, but Tracey acknowledged that no one had instructed me about this, and felt that I ultimately did the right thing by showing the horse.  I also made a point of telling Karl what happened, and he responded with “oh, I already heard about it, and it’s okay.”  When he said that I thought maybe Tracey had mentioned it to him, but I found out later that one of the Napoleon complex showmen did one of those school kid numbers—tattling.  Apparently the people I showed the horse to are people he ALWAYS shows horses to. Well, who knew?  No one filled me in on the dancers or their dance cards.  I think this showman was surprised when everyone acknowledged they already knew about it, because I had told them.  Yep, it pays to be honest.

Judy’s toe was bothering her today.  I tried to help out as much as I could so she wouldn’t have to stand on it forever.  She is a trooper.

I still cannot get over the fact that people have this much money—to just leisurely come to Keeneland and spend an average of $130,000 on a horse with no guarantees.  It’s just crazy!

Most of the large Kentucky horse farms are owned by Sheikhs.  Sheikh Mohammed and Sheikh Maktoum are two of the many owners of large stable operations.  They spend quite a bit of time at the sales.  Sheikh Mohammed purchased a horse for $3.8 million on day one of the sale.  On day two another colt was purchased for $9.8 million, by another Sheikh.

Tonight, after my shower, I took the car and found a Starbuck’s and had a nice latte. I also found a Cold Stone Creamery.  Yum!  I am so sore and so tired from this hectic day, I just cannot imagine tomorrow.   Tomorrow, at least, is the last day.  I’m somewhat heartened by that.  I think I can make it.

For the final chapter of The Kentucky Trip, tune in tomorrow.

Aarroooooo!