Like most Saturdays, I brought a few of our horses down the street to train at Kennedy Farms. Because of the heat, I was riding my first horse earlier than usual, and that meant riding with a group. I arrived just in the nick of time to discover that we were having a “pretend horse show,” and that we had ten minutes to warm up before we would be judged. I tried to stuff my inner demon, otherwise known as a wicked sense of competitiveness, which had haunted me over the years, feeling like a hot breath at the back of my neck. From the classroom, to the show ring, even into my business world, I have struggled to suppress my inner drive for perfection and accomplishment. I scratched Paidraig’s neck with my outside hand knowing full well that in the real world I would be marked down. He was brilliant, more supple than usual, and being the sensitive guy that he is, he was more immediately responsive than a normal hack. We executed his canter departures flawlessly, and my fingers naturally rubbed the side of his neck, silently praising him for being such a good boy.

When we were asked to come in and line up, he stood like a statue (or in retrospect, knowing Paidraig, a trophy). I think that he was actually posing. I gently scratched his withers, again knowing full well that we would be marked down, but he had behaved beautifully, and frankly, praising him trumped the mock horse show any day of the week. Paidraig and I were not awarded the only prize, an ethereal “blue ribbon” for two reasons, both of which I understood, agreed with, and to some degree down right embraced. Tracking left, my reins were a bit on the long side since I have spent the last eleven months riding Paidraig intentionally with a very soft hand and seat, inviting him to soften, relax, trust and enjoy. I accepted the gentle criticism as he had been relaxed and seemed to enjoy the mock competition. Certainly for a real show ring, and most definitely for an equitation class, I should have ridden him into the bridle, packaged him up a bit, shown him off, point taken. The other infraction was much more obvious. When asked to counter canter, he missed the lead. I am most certain that I could have cued him more crisply; I actually think that he thought that I wasn’t paying attention and tried to help me out by picking up the “correct lead.” We hadn’t been practicing counter leads, and I held no disappointment, only pride in him…and love. Listening to the feedback that the other riders were receiving (and lightly rubbing his withers with my gloved hand), it was obvious that I was sitting on the shiniest horse in the line up. His rich coat gleamed from the daily deep grooming. Even though I had only been expecting a lesson, outside of braids, as always he looked show ready down to his polished hooves.

The Paidraig of today nearly one year later is a very different horse from one year ago. He trusts me, wants to please, enjoys our time under saddle and is gaining confidence in me and in himself over fences. When he came to us sullen and defensive, he would not cross a pole on the ground, let alone a cross rail, in spite of a previous show record that reflects a competitive and talented horse. Today, we have graduated from small confidence building gymnastics, to inviting single fences, to a small course. He clearly loves it as he is jumping with enthusiasm that stings my eyes and inspires me to be the best that I can for him, quiet, consistent, and trustworthy.

After our “show,” I rode Paidraig home, stopping on the side of English Place, as always, to allow him to graze and unwind. He looks forward to the added enrichment, and I believe that he recognizes the relaxing treat as a reward; it is one of our rituals that creates enjoyment and bonding. Returning to the ranch, a home where he is both treasured and understood, he devours a handful of root beer barrels, and shakes me down playfully for the last hold out hidden in my pocket. Even on the hottest of days, he is showered off with warm water, and that too needs to be presented as a game, often with gentle feigned outrage when he tries to drench me in return. While the story of Paidraig is uniquely his, like all of the horses that come to us, he needed time and understanding. The situations that bring horses to us vary tremendously, and each horse, like Paidraig, is embraced, assessed and prepared for a forever home. As for me, I have redefined what “winning” means and am fulfilled to see each of our horses accomplish reclaiming a life and developing bonds and relationships in ways that can’t possibly be measured, only felt. As for Paidraig, he will continue to have the time and baby steps that he requires. He is home, and while it is obvious the depth of feeling and commitment that I feel for him, it is readily apparent that he loves me too.

A special thank you to Kennedy Farms for their generosity and support in helping us help our horses; we are deeply grateful! We deeply appreciate the support and expertise that you demonstrate for our work, and the belief that you have in our program and horses.