Confessions of a Horse Obsessed Woman

I should be writing.

Still, I find myself spending hours searching online for the perfect horse.

Yes, it is true that two hay-burners chew and sigh contentedly in the barn and I love them deeply. They make me smile every day. Though maybe not yesterday when the phone rang early in the morning. "Your horses are in the barn here. Could you come get them? Bring lead shanks."

Sigh. At least they had fun.

My current horse problem is rooted in my love of competition. And neither of my ponies is suitable for the horse shows. Well, maybe Gil, but I have been asked repeatedly NOT to get on him again after our rodeo experience. He has so much baggage. It is ind of like being in a relationship with an emotionally dammaged partner- their problems become yours and take years of therapy to overcome.

Or you cut your losses and move on.

Cosmo is my "good doober." If I could clone him, I would- ok, technically cloning is possible, but realistically I could buy a really nice horse for what that costs.

Cosmo's issues are: he is older, he has a few creaky joints, and some odd growths in his tail, but he loves to go and they do not impede him. No, unfortunately, Cosmo is a "roarer." His larynx is partially paralyzed, so when he breathes fast, the limp flap falls across his windpipe, cutting his intake by more than half. In spite of this disability, Cosmo would give his all, just not in a show ring. He is my trail buddy, completely safe and comfortable. I trust him implicitly.

However, there is a brand new, tags still on, show coat bought in 2003 hanging in my closet. Yes, it has been that long.

I am also riding a friend's pony, who is wonderful, helping me break years of bad habits and making me a much better rider. Everyone tells me to be patient and wait for the "right" horse.

Patience is not my strong point.

So I lurk online, gazing at countless horses, waiting for that moment when the insurance company settles and I am financially ready to actually buy the perfect horse.

Horses are my drug of choice. They distract me from what I should be doing- when i am not with them, I think about them. Like potato chips, I want just one more. I finish riding, then a few hours later want to do it again. The perfect ride keeps me happy for days, a bad one and I spend days analyzing what went wrong. (I dream of getting through to Gil)

I think I need rehab.

Or a good swift kick in the ass.