I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many of you. I feel honored to consider so many of you friends.

For years, I’ve accepted the inevitability of this website closing, but I’ve also dithered and fretted over the process.

I just wish I hadn’t needed to do this in 2020.

The timing is coincidental.  For a do-it-yourselfer like me, blogging has become more complicated and expensive. And not just from a financial standpoint, but energetically, as well. 

For me, there’s no such thing as writing up a quick blog post.

What sped up my decision to close was the arrival of a bill for hosting two websites. The more-than-one website package is designed for those who make their livings with multiple websites.

So, closing this site will leave me with rhondalane.com, which has always been the hub for my activities as an author.

“Speaking of … what about that book, Rhonda?”

A few months ago, I received comments from an editor suggesting complicated changes to my mystery novel. After what I’ve heard is the usual and expected amount of writerly weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, I mulled over her comments. 

Once my emotional storm cleared, I realized she’d made excellent points about logic gaps in the plot as well as my depictions of several major characters.

So, she actually did me and my book a huge favor.

But I’m only about a third of the way through that layer of revisions. 

What happens next?

Behind the scenes, I’m working with my Web Wizard Denise on an exit plan, including exporting the content of this blog to my rhondalane.com.

For some posts, I plan to set up a way for search engine traffic to be detoured to my soon-to-be single website. Or maybe I misunderstood what that means.

But we’ll soon downgrade my web hosting package. This site is liable to disappear around the end of December or the early days of 2021.

Where you can find me

Just so you know, I don’t intend to blog often on my remaining website. I need to focus on writing fiction and a newsletter on that other website.

If you want to stay in contact and see what’s next, click here to sign up for my newsletter The Back Yard.

Yes, I called it The Back Yard, like at Saratoga and like, well, anyone’s back yard–a place where friends gather to chew the fat, sip libations, munch on snacks, and catch up on what’s up.

I should tell you, it’ll be less horsey than here, but I’m still pretty horsey and I gotta be me.

I so appreciate our time here together

Please accept my fervent wishes for y’all making the best of the holiday season.
Stay safe, stay well, and I hope to see you again soon.

May The Horse be with you.

With much love and gratitude,

Rhonda

The post My Last Post Here appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

I used to think it odd, but understandable.  Commercial flights, like elementary schools or Florida beaches in March, might as well be petri dishes.

Years ago, I was subjected to/healed by immunosuppressant drugs. My year and a half of “chemo lite” taught me:

• To open doors with a shirt tail over my hand.
• To go straight to the bathroom from my car to wash my hands.
• To avoid crowds in the big shopping seasons, like Black Friday, December, and Saturdays. 
• To dodge my friends with grandchildren if they mentioned they were catching or getting over a cold.
• To take my own reading material to a doctor’s waiting room. Except for the dentist. He has The BEST magazines, and people aren’t usually sick when they go to the dentist. But it has to be a REALLY intriguing travel or lifestyle magazine. Not one of the usual suspects.

Yet, I always went to the barn, where I’m older than most of my fellow students’ parents. Besides, fresh air at the barn dilutes all the cooties. The concentrated air of a restaurant table? Not so much. 

Likewise, horse shows and Saratoga racing were always exempt from my No Crowds Rule.

Except now, I’m thinking they won’t be.

A Product Opportunity for Ariat?

Once the country re-opens for business — probably with a soft launch in my area, the populous “rocking chair” between NYC and Boston–I think I’ll be wearing masks in public for a while. And maybe gloves.

Maybe even for the steamy months of July and August.

With any luck, the barns will be open again in June. I hate to think what would happen if riding stables can’t hold summer camp.

Even when it’s at it’s hottest outside, I wear gloves to ride. My hands get sweaty. My schoolie doesn’t need to feel me pinching on the reins getting slippery from my sweat. And I sure don’t need him or her to feel that and come to his or her own conclusions.

Wearing breeches, riding pants, gloves, tall boots, and a helmet for one night a week actually makes summer in shorts and sandals feel less oppressive.

So I’m bracing myself for the need and responsibility to wear a mask when I ride when we gear up again.

I Stopped Riding Two Weeks Before Everything Closed

The barn was closing for the month of April to give the school ponies a much-needed break, which also coincided with the coronavirus closings, but I stopped riding earlier in mid-March.

Turns out, I wasn’t the only one, but I did it for my fellow students — and their families.

One of my fellow riders on my night is always accompanied by her grandmother. She’s always cold, often wears a full-length faux fur coat, but she never misses seeing her granddaughter ride.

I also think she gets a kick out of seeing me, an older student, riding and sharing experiences with her young granddaughter.

Because, as careful as I am — all my pre-Covid-19 handwashing and avoiding crowds except for open air — I feared I could carry the virus to my little friend’s grandmother. Worrying about the possibility nagged me mightily. 

In hindsight, I wish I’d considered wearing a mask then. No one thought about it. Besides, I think that was on the eve of when The Only People With Masks Should Be Medical Personnel.

Now, we’re all wearing masks or making masks.

New Barn Bag Contents

I already have leather cleaning wipes. I’m not sure how well they’ll wipe out the virus cooties. But maybe I’ll wipe my gear and the barn’s tack down before I use it.

Maybe, once we can buy them again, maybe disinfectant wipes.

My half leather/half crocheted riding gloves may not be fit for polite society thanks to some of the stains from the rein leathers, but I’m going to have to wear them while I groom and tack up.

And a mask.

I wonder what the horses will think.

The post Helmet? Check! Boots? Check! Face Mask? appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

They don’t have to. I’ll write about it.

And it’s regarding horses. Really.

Bullwinkle Went Near-Sighted Again

Apparently, in 25 percent of cataract surgeries now, scar tissue grows back over the new lens and makes vision blurry. In my case, it was gradual and difficult to detect, so I ended up living with it for several months.

Unless you have an emergency, just try to see an eye doctor in December when people are squeezing the last bits out of their flexible spending accounts or deductibles.

Once I saw an ophthalmologist, I learned I’d need a laser procedure that would take five seconds. His office only did it one day a month. I’d just missed January’s.

I coped by only driving in the mornings after the commuter hour. I also had to switch to magnifier goggles, even for reading.

But I had to stop driving at night. In the winter, the return drive home from the barn where I take lessons is after dark.

As the scar tissue built, my vision became worse. I tried to ignore it, but horses can sniff out denial and use it against us better than a psychic litigator. I had to stop riding, but I didn’t want to stop going to the barn.

Bullwinkle Studies Up 2B Mr. Know It All

Funny how I didn’t have any trouble finding friends to drive me to the barn.

My instructor came up with “ground lessons.” I wrapped legs, but the squatting and bending made me dizzy. And I braided tails, which made me feel clumsy.

I hadn’t realized how important it was for my eyes to be able to focus.

Before my fourth lesson, at which I’d intended to fumble more through tail braiding, my instructor stopped me. She’d come up with “something,” she told me, “you don’t have to be able to see to do.”

She mentioned having received permission from the pony’s owner, before asking, “How would you like to learn to clean a sheath?”

Oops! Wrong hat!

I’m old enough I remember back in Kentucky when “ladies” were “invited” to leave the barn for deeds deemed too foul for tender eyes, such as veterinarian visits.

As a result, I’d never heard of sheath cleaning until I moved up north and saw ads in the local equestrian news for those who specialize in the process.

I’d also seen an episode of “The Incredible Dr. Pol,” in which Dr. Pol extracted a gelding’s bean and told his owner she could do this herself.

Her response? “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Apparently, I am.

Presto! An Opportunity!

You see, I’ve been riding again for almost a decade. Between various health endeavors clobbering my strength, including the afore-mentioned cataract surgeries, I’d never cantered on purpose. Except for maybe three steps.

I decided if I cleaned a gelding’s sheath I could finally claim some equestrian badassery.

So, my response to my instructor?

“Do you have rubber gloves?”

Meet “Rocky”

Like his barn stablemates, the bay gelding we’ll call “Rocky” is a professional schoolie and knows his job. But he’s not a push-button ride. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He simply ignores them. #VoiceOfExperience Somehow, somewhere, he learned how to give grouchy mare face.

He’s also a little bit “Pac Man” because he likes to mouth everything. When his teeth finally pinch human flesh, no one is more surprised than he is, if for no other reason than he goes from scolding to big trouble.

Some people, especially new students and their parents, are afraid of him. He’s fine with that. But then they fall for his charms, which are considerable. He is handsome and athletic.

But Rocky and Bullwinkle here have an understanding. I tell him to keep his chompy bits to himself. He knows I’m careful around his tender spots he’s particular about, like around his withers. I know he likes to have his poll and forehead rubbed. And he knows the blue bag I use to carry my helmet and composite stirrups also holds peppermints. 

My mission? To make Rocky more comfortable and hygienic in places he can’t reach himself.

“Watch Me Pull a Rabbit Out of — “

Maybe I’m belaboring the Rocky and Bullwinkle motif.

I assisted, aka watched and helped as best I could, as my instructor prepared the bucket of warm water, a little mild soap, some ripped apart rolled cotton to make sizeable cotton balls, and dropped them into the bucket to soak.

No shoulder-length gloves like Dr. Pol’s or Dr. Emily’s for me. Just wrist-length disposable gloves. But that’s okay. I’d worn a short-sleeved tee shirt. The barn has hot and cold running water, as well as soap. 

Aware my driver du jour and I planned to go out for sushi afterward, I told her what was in store. A former hunter-jumper rider, she nodded and said, “That’s why I like mares.”

Considering “Rocky’s” preferences and habits, he tolerated the warm water swabbing of his reachable innards with cotton balls. No grouchy mare face. No snapping turtle impersonations from the crossties, either.

Also, considering how high up inside I had to swab, I’d wondered if he’d tucked himself even higher. As if to say, “Hey, Bullwinkle. This trick never works. Really.”

Bullwinkle to instructor: He’s hiding it.

My instructor: Keep going, You need to go deeper.

This Bean of Which They Speak with Such Fear and Loathing?

What was it like? Really?

A ball of dark wet lint.

I’d been expecting, well, a bean. Something harder.

But, later at dinner, we didn’t order the edamame appetizer.

The post Eenie Meanie Chili Beanie … appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

• Buck Brannaman?
• Monty Roberts and his book?
• The Nicholas Sparks book?
• Robert Redford movie made from Sparks’s book?
• A different clinician?
• The 19th century British Toadmen?

Well, it certainly isn’t me. I hope not. I’m more of an equine squeak toy.

Besides, my horse time has been curtailed. As in, like, BOOM. That’s it.

Many of you are in a similar same boat.

So, I’m making the best of things, if possible. I aspire, for the foreseeable future, to become an Instacart whisperer.

What is this Instacart of which you speak?

Instacart is a website that offers online ordering for pickup or delivery from various local stores who’ve signed on for the service. 

In this respect, I’m lucky I live in the suburbs because I have many options, including local and independently owned stores.

I order, pick an available time for delivery, pay by credit card, and then the bags get left on my front porch.

After this siege is over, I’ll be using delivery regularly. I’ll have more time to get things accomplished, such as writing in this blog.

We live in interesting times

However, as the curse says, we live in interesting times. Way more people need the service. We all pretty much want the same things. There are shortages and substitutions. The “next available delivery time” can be days out. So, no “oh, I’m out of such&such, so I’ll get it and have it in an hour.” Uh, no.

As household quartermaster monitoring our food and other consumable supplies, I have to sync up when we’ll run out of something and time the delivery accordingly. Except it’s not up to me. It’s up to availability.

Likewise for products. The hunt for toilet paper is real, but this family is lucky because, thanks to living in New England in winter, I make a point of stocking a bit ahead. I don’t have a closet full, but I’m not going bananas trying to find some.

My cart at Costco on March 13 held eggs, burgers, blueberries, and dissolvable fiber, not cleaning wipes and what the commercials in the late 20th century called “toilet tissue.” 

My strategy

I determine what we need next. (Just so you know, I’m only monitoring who has toilet paper. Not buying right now.)

I may end up going through various Instacart merchants, searching, and usually moving on. Until I find what I want. I have a list.

Then, that merchant gets the order. If they have the products I want, we’re gonna do business.

I also make a point of monitoring when the next available delivery date is. In less-challenging times, customers used to get their products in five hours, at the very least. I’m not finding that now.

Working on being the Instacart Whisperer

So, Instacart is an online merchant, not a horse. But now it’s pretty unpredictable.

I ask for what you want. I may not get it. I do what I can to be helpful to the pickers and I always tip via the website, of course.

It’s more of a sure thing than gambling at the casinos or the track. (Anyone who reads this blog knows I don’t go to the track for the gambling anyway. Unless I try some greasy food.)

In the documentary about him, horse whisperer Buck Brannaman refers to riding as “a dance.” 

I agree. I tend to treat it as partner yoga because I’m a clumsy dancer, but less clumsy at yoga.

I want to work with the horse and “speak” his or her “dialect” of the aids.

So, for the time being, attempted horse whispering isn’t part of my life.

Instacart whispering is.

So, how are y’all getting supplies? Armoring up and going out? Using a fave delivery service? Let us know in the comments below.

PS – No affiliate links here. Y’all know how to use a web search engine.
 

The post Becoming a Whisperer appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

The news is frightening, and I hear so many heartbreaking stories hitting too close to home.

The world is so vast, but we’re all sharing this experience.

And we’ve chosen none of this.

Many of our usual cultural and personal touchstones are off-limits now.

So here online and on the phone, I’ve been touching base with various local and not-so-local friends.  I want to know how you are. 

Granted, I’m aware of and grateful for being lucky and comfortable. So far.

That’s the subtext of gratitude, an awareness of the transience of the good times. 

This year, I learned one of my top strengths is Connectedness, according to Gallup Strengthsfinders. I’ve learned that not everyone has that strength. There are 34 Strengths. Yes, capitalized.

Connectedness is my #3 Strength. I believe we’re all a community with more in common than first glance might suggest. I notice circumstances like synchronicity. Some high Connectedness folks are active in an organized church. So far, that’s not me. But I do have Faith.

I guess it’s no surprise then that my favorite animal is the horse, a herd animal.

However, I am besotted with our cats. The Project Cat is doing great, BTW. Thank you for asking. Our cats are family.

For me, for the foreseeable future, horses have returned to the “virtual” realm. Like some of you, I’m under high-risk, “house arrest,” which makes me look super fierce on-paper. If that’s the worst that happens to me and mine, we are lucky indeed.

For good or ill, we mystery writers like to use crime slang, which may or may not be tasteful. But we are liable to say stuff like, “house arrest,” “on the inside, ” and “in solitary.”

If you fall into that latter category, either comment below or email me at remlane at gmail dot com. However, if it bounces — Google insists I’m a cyber-hoarder and my storage is full–let me know.

Connectedness is my #3 Strength. My #1? Empathy.

Even if you’re not holed up in solitary, how are you doing? Hanging in there?

The post Just checking in appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

Over on a friend’s Patreon, I posted some crazy talk to the effect of “It’s never too late, even if you’re on the off-ramp to the Pearly Gates and St. Peter is waving you to your parking space.”

Hindight reminds me, rather flintily, that sentence is the biggest bunch of horse manure I’ve ever shoveled. But it got me writing this post, didn’t it?

Life Happened

This summer, I had my second bunion surgery and couldn’t get around the house well. I finished writing my first novel enough to send it along on its editorial process. I’ve begun writing the second in the series, as well as the third.

Will our project cat is up walking, playing, and getting into trouble. He’s still on insulin, but his dosage is dropping. He’s still time- and money-consuming, but when he comes to me with that kitty smile and eyes full of love, it’s all worth it.

But we didn’t escape “the down” after all.

Kidney disease sent our senior cat Kaylee down the road of the long goodbye with eating less and less and wasting away. We put her to sleep in late September.

Cheddar is still a delight, but he’s shy. I’m supposed to be training him by tethering him to me with a harness and leash, a vet-recommended procedure. I think I’m having better results playing a long game. Or I’m kidding myself, like with that quip about the off-ramp to the Pearly Gates.

And I’m trying to regain my health and physical condition. I work out two days a week. For the third, I ride. Still a beginner lesson. I appreciate the adult supervision.

Faith Wavered

I also had a few crises of faith. I’ve always said “loving horses is not for the faint-of-heart.” Heck, love isn’t for the faint of heart.

I had airfare credits about to cancel so I made a last-minute research trip to an event I’d been curious about. The nicest way I can express what happened is that I have great material for conflict for my crime novels–and I still came home safe. Here’s another hint:

I worry that our differences are so big now that our love of horses can’t quite reach across the divide.

And don’t get me started on what all’s going on in horse racing.

I haven’t watched horse racing since Royal Ascot right after my surgery.

Weirder still? I can’t tell you the dates of the Breeders Cup. It’s in a couple of weeks, maybe? Around Halloween?

Had I been able to go to Saratoga this summer, I would’ve gone, but I couldn’t watch it on TV, partly for the same reason I had trouble watching the Derby preps at Keeneland. For good or ill now, Saratoga on TV gives me the “home” feels like watching racing at Keeneland does.

Also, for a final kvetch, I submitted this blog to a contest in which judges provide feedback. I was told my writing had personality and an engaged audience but the content was “all over the place.”

Well, shoot. That’s not a problem, that’s a feature.

Here’s the Sitch

I have some ideas for posts. They’ll always be all over the place. If an even somewhat peripherally horse-related topic intrigues me or tickles my fancy, I’ll probably write about it here.

So, seeya again, soon. I hope.

The post Updates a-go-go appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

After I shot this video and the Patreon cleared away the “Congrats You Launched” page you see above, I realized most of you who follow this blog on RSS or via email won’t see this until Derby Day, not today, Kentucky Oaks Day.

Oops. Sorry.

Yup. I launched my Patreon page on Kentucky Oaks Day 2019.

Anyway, after years of MacGuyer telling me about Patreon, because he’s a fan of founder Jack Conte’s musical duo Pamplemouse, I finally figured out what I’d like to do with a Patreon page.

To be clear and not cast MacGuyver in an unsupportive light, he wasn’t hinting all that time, but he knew I wanted validation as a writer and artist, plus I dreamed what I did would have enough value for people to pay me for it.

I’d always known I’d launch a page if I could figure out what I could offer.

Why a Patreon page now?

Several reasons.

Part of it is to get started under the line before the new iteration of Patreon launches in a few days. I wanted to be part of the original system.

It is true that the deadline made me think harder about what I could do and offer. Frankly, deadlines make my teeth itch and give me anxiety. Deadlines have caused me and other creative friends to cut corners. I realize deadlines are a fact of life, publishing, and news, but sometimes the results aren’t pretty and content consumers may not suffer, but they feel unsatisfied.

As a consumer myself, I know that feeling all too well.

Another reason why I started a Patreon, MacGuyver will be retiring in a few years. True, he and I both want me to have creative freedom, but I also want to help keep our lights on both here on the blogs and at home.

And — something I haven’t told anyone else — I need to work around my social media addiction. I’m terribly dependent on Facebook. My thinking is, with a Patreon page, if I’m paid to produce content to share with people, I can avoid Facebook a bit better and be more constructive with my time.

Important stuff to know

I have no plans to close this blog in the near future.

Frankly, I did think about combing my two websites. But that’s not for a while yet.

Accessing The Horsey Set Net here will always be free.

I’ll repeat myself: accessing The Horsey Set Net here will always be free. Even if I move it to my other site, I’ll always be free.

What I’m offering on my Patreon page is a first look at first drafts of posts that will go up here and on my other blog. The medium and content of those posts is dependent upon the tiers.

If I’ve messed up my priorities, I’ll happily blame “deadlines.”

I hope you’ll consider joining the party over there. Frankly, you won’t miss anything over here if you don’t, but I’m kind of using a Patreon page as a glorified tip jar.

Enjoy 2019 Derby weekeend, or as they say in “Lou-uh-vul:” “Have a good Derby!”

Become a Patron!

The post A New Feature … Patreon! appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

After Max passed away, our remaining cat Kaylee cried every night. In heartbreaking bad timing, I went in for complicated foot surgery, so no kitty could come into the house for months.

Between the two of us, her vocalizations and the clicking of my walker, nights were noisy.

I healed up, and months later, we decided we missed the personality and wit of an orange cat, so we put out feelers for another. We got an orange rescue kitten lined up. The rescue kitten has a few health problems but we hope the use of Feliway can ease the cat’s pain.

On the day after Thanksgiving, also our wedding anniversary, another rescue worker “seeking orange” for us called us because she’d found “an orange mush.”

The catch?

He had diabetes.

I didn’t want three cats anyway. We’ve had three cats and they needed more attention than I had bandwidth for, in addition to everything else. And with one of them sick? Fugeddabouddit!

We turned her down.

She raised the ante. He loves getting his chin rubbed, and he’s scheduled to be put to sleep in five days.

Our hearts outvoted our brains.

We called her back and said, if he didn’t have anything communicable and dangerous, we’d take him. But he had to be tested first.

I was still dubious, but we went all in.

When we met him at a vet clinic, as soon as he leaned in my fingers to be scratched, I knew not only was he going home with us, but anyone else would have to pry him from my cold dead arms.

He was all plush tawny fur over lanky protruding bones. His hindquarters moved like a show pleasure Tennessee Walking Horse walking deep, which I later learned was an apparent sign of feline diabetes.

So, we learned to give insulin shots. We learned how to test for glucose in the urine. (There are multiple ways to obtain a sample, BTW. So glad you asked.) We also soon learned he brought live roundworms home to our new kitten and Kaylee.

Ka-RASH!

About ten weeks later, we realized he could barely walk. It had been one of those gradual slides in condition, a disaster creeping up in slow motion. I also noticed that he was extremely anxious, and that was horrible for me to see. I hate seeing any animal suffering or in pain. I wanted to try and find ways to help him but I knew there wasn’t much I could do. Of course, I could try Kitty Cat Happy Gas to try and relieve his anxiety but I knew he would have to go to the vets for his walking issues.

On my phone camera’s gallery, there are pictures of him perched on the toilet seat to lap water from the bowl. (I know. I know. Let’s just say, Kaylee has bad habits and enough swagger to inspire every cat in the household to copy her. ) Then, Will could barely crawl the length of his body at a time without resting.

We made the tearful “it’s time” phone call to our house call vet. He said there was still hope. Will still enjoyed affection, but we wondered if living on pee pads was really the best way for him to live.

Our vet came and doubled down. Tests for every body fluid. Antibiotics. We injected subcutaneous fluids under his loose skin. Gradual raised his insulin dosage.

Meanwhile, Kaylee starts sliding

Despite her swagger, Kaylee is a special needs cat with a thyroid condition on the verge of kidney disease. The twice-a-day feedings didn’t suit her. She’d lick her dosed food a couple of times, and then reject it. I was so distracted with Will, plus the new kitten Cheddar, I didn’t realize how much trouble she was in until her coat went raggedy and I could feel her spine.

We learned to pile up her food just so. Then, we realized she preferred it in a can. After she’d smacked her lips while making a face, MacGuyver suggested she might want more water in her food.

Now, she’s eating more. Her coat is sleek and silky again. And her topline isn’t knobby. No more spinal bumps. But I feed her multiple times a day.

Since I first drafted this post, Kaylee was recently diagnosed with full-blown kidney disease. Was it inevitable? Or did all the excitement hasten its arrival? Frankly, we try not to dwell.

Whatever the case, we’re giving her subcutaneous fluids to slow her decline. We have no idea how old she really is, but she looks as if she aged five years in the past three months.

Why am I telling y’all about this?

Figuring out how to keep a cat eating and save hardwood floors from a cat too weak to climb into even a low doggie litter box is a challenge.

I’d had big plans for December 2018, let alone for early this year. I wanted The Book to be done. I’m close, but not there yet. And I wanted to be better about blogging. I even wanted to start my long-delayed newsletter.

We learned how to juggle three hungry cats underfoot during the twice a day feeding time. (Early on, our house was like the stage of a French farce, as we stashed cats in rooms behind swiftly closed doors.) I can tell you where to get Great Dane puppy-sized pee pads (Ocean State Job Lot, if you live in New England) to line a hardwood floor. We learned that frisky Cheddar is a good egg who wants to cover Will’s business, but the little guy gets in the way when I’m trying to clean up the mess.

Also, since I first drafted this post, we’ve learned Will isn’t incontinent. He’s walking, more or less, but not enough to get in and out of a litter box. His insulin dosage has been full of ups and downs, but currently, his dosage is lessening. He’s been diagnosed with a kidney infection, stubborn worms, and acromegaly, best-known for its most famous patient Andre the Giant. Other than brain surgery, which our vet said he wouldn’t do on his cats–let alone ours–the only treatments for the rare condition are what Will is receiving anyway.

Project Cat(s)

A lot of horse people get what they call “a project horse.” They get a horse that needs a little training and or fattening up.

Childhood friends used to take on neglected ponies, clean them up, socialize them, and basically flip them to new owners. Some horse rescues have a similar modus operandi.

Will, however, isn’t going anywhere when he gets better. And he is. He’s getting stronger. Some days it feels slow, others fast.

Kaylee is doing better, but still gives us the occasional scare, so we cherish the time she’s still with us.

lheddar is a joy. We’re supposed to be socializing him more to strangers. That project is a work-in-progress.

I guess we have three project cats.

The post Cats on a Horse Blog: My Project Cat(s) appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

The Budweiser Clydesdales weren’t the only horses in commercials on the Super Bowl. in 2019. Unless you live in Kentucky, you may not have seen this one from Winstar Farm. 

Sometimes, we all need a reminder of what we often take for granted,

According to this article in Horse Racing Nation, after Winstar’s co-owned horse Justify won the Triple Crown, farm spokespeople wanted to make a statement to benefit the horse racing industry.

They’re not just selling horse racing partnerships but promoting horse racing, even — dare I say it — even though the footage is mostly from horse racing, the equestrian world at-large.

I’m hoping to see this commercial run during 2019 Triple Crown TV coverage, too.

Maybe even–hint, hint–edit the commercial for another year to show Winstar horses in their second and third careers, as their horses make a difference in peoples’ lives.

#HorsesChangedMyLife

The post A Super Bowl Commercial with Horses Most People Didn’t See: #HorsesChangedMyLife appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.

On Thanksgiving 2018, Trappe Hill Farm co-owner, Virginia Hunt Country booster, former corporate CEO, and, yes, former Reagan administration official Bruce Smart passed away.

While I was working on my post about Genuine Risk, I had been clicking over to Facebook only to see another horseman posting condolences about Bruce Smart passing away.

I’d met Bruce almost ten years ago on the same day I visited Genuine Risk’s grave in 2009. On that day, I had no idea Bruce was such a big deal in horse country and what impact meeting him would have on my interests.

Come with me into the Wayback Machine:

That Sunday morning of Memorial Day weekend in 2009 was muggy and felt heavy with humidity thanks to the coming rain. The tour of Virginia Hunt Country was my first trip after a long treatment for an inflammatory disorder, so I was feeling fatigue and yuck. But I was still game to see what all we came to see.

On that second day of the self-guided tour, Trappe Hill Farm was our first stop.

What greeted us when we parked our cars was a table of used books — horse books — for sale.

My friend and I can’t pass a book with a sales sticker on it. Even now that we both depend on ereaders.

Our purpose for visiting was to watch the scheduled horse swimming demonstration. The day before, we’d gone to the Northen Virginia Animal Swim Center and watched a horse exercise in the pool, a narrow channel making a lap along the indoor wals.

At Trappe Hill horse would swim in a pond at a predetermined time. We didn’t want to miss the show.

Bruce Smart met us at the barn door of the big barn you see in the photo above. He introduced his wife Edie, who he said got him into horses. Edie smiled from a lawn chair next to her dogs.

On our tour, Bruce talked about how Trappe Hill had pinhooked 2005 Kentucky Derby contender Flower Alley.

We also met champion endurance horse Heraldic. The champ’s rider and trainer John Crandall was on hand to explain the sport of endurance racing, the concept, the tack used, and to show us the endurance horses on hand.

The vet checks and Heraldic’s accomplisments all fascinated me. It was the first I’d heard of the Tevis Cup and the Old Dominion Ride.

This was the first time I’d ever heard of endurance racing.

I never claimed I knew everything about horses, okay?

But that’s what’s so GREAT about loving horses. There’s alway something new to learn.

A COMMUNITY OF THE HORSE, a trilogy

Come to find out, more books were for sale inside the barn.

Bruce had been writing a trilogy titled A COMMUNITY OF THE HORSE, sort of a Valentine to the local equestrians and his wife, his favorite equestrian who’d also introduced him to all the excitement.

Both PARTNERSHIPS and STAKEHOLDERS were volumes as big as my college text books, lovingly produced and a meticulous views of his world printed on glossy paper with photographs throughout.

As I have learned more about book publishing and printing, they must’ve cost a fortune to produce.

Fortunately, I could afford to buy a copy of each book and have them signed by the author.

In case you can’t read his personalized inscription in my copy of PARTNERSHIPS or even my transcription in the caption:

“For Rhonda, who admits to a past checkered by horses – from Kentucky to Connecticut and now for a moment in Virginia. Thanks for visiting Trappe Hill. Bruce Smart, May 24, 2009”

I think he ran out of things to say because he was more brief in my copy of STAKEHOLDERS. “For Rhonda, with best wishes.”

Besides, it was almost time for the horses to swim.

A Quick Dip

More cars showed up. People emerged and a crowd gathered around a pond between the parking area and the main barn where I’d bought Bruce’s books.

Yellow wild irises lined the shore of the pond. Two grooms led out a yearling thoroughbred.

The men stood on the wooden docks to let the horse swim around it.

After the horse emerged, he shook like a wet retriever.

With the show over, we headed out to Newstead Farm, where Genuine Risk had lived.

Since that visit to Virginia

• I haven’t been back to go on the tour again. I think about it, but, you know, stuff.
• Bruce completed his trilogy with LEGACIES. I don’t have a copy. See above.
• Bruce and Edie got into steeplechase horses, or maybe they already were and it didn’t register on the tour,

Inspired by what I saw at Trappe Hill

That trip to Virginia with its multiple venues for horses inspired so much.

• Multiple posts here about my trip to Virginia.
• While planning my first series mystery novels, I made contact with a local endurance riding group where I ended up as a veterinary scribe.
• And I wrote a scene for my first mystery novel in which one of the horse trainers conditions a horse by swimming it around a dock on a pond similar to Trappe Hill’s.

Finally, maybe you noticed when you read Bruce’s obituary on the National Steeplechase Association website, he and Edie put Trappe Hill in a conservation trust.

UPDATE: As of earlier this week–yes, I missed it–Trappe Hill Farm has been listed for sale for $6.5 million under a conservation easement with the Virginia Outdoors Foundation. For more photos, see this listing.

Farewell, Bruce. And our condolences to your family, especially Edie, the lady who introduced him to horses.

The post How Do I Remember the Late Bruce Smart? appeared first on The Horsey Set Net.