View from the North 40: Who's the good girl now?

There is nothing like an enforced daily session on a very specific exercise in both patience and urgency to drive a training point home with a young horse and really help you put your own life in perspective. The first point is a good thing, the second point, the one about your own life, is open for debate.

Because my horse Myah cut the sole of her foot, I am two weeks into a month’s worth of wrapping her foot to help pad the sole and, more importantly, keep moisture and dirt out of the wound.

The key at this point is the clean and dry part until the wound fully closes over. I wanted to explain the doctoring process, which I have down to a science now, but I couldn’t get it done in less than 200 words. Here’s the heart of it, though: All the steps are messy, delicate or sticky or require a lot of muscle from the human. It takes 15 to 18 minutes, starting with cutting the old bandage off the foot, to finishing the wrapping.

The most important part is that the uncovered foot cannot touch the ground. For about two-thirds of the process, if the horse pulls its foot away, it just causes a mess and more work, but there’s a crucial five minutes from when the foot is bare to when the sole has a cover somewhat secured that you are willing to negotiate all manner of truces or get into an outright wrestling match — no matter how hot, tired or sweaty you are or how big and strong the horse is — to keep that foot off the ground.

Once the horse is trained to endure the process, it’s not that big of a deal, but the irony is that in the early stages — when it’s crucial to keep the still-open wound out of the dirt or mud — is when the horse is most likely to get impatient.

My horse is only 3 years old and she’s like an ambitious 10- to 12-year-old, with a mostly good-kid personality in a professional men’s basketball player body. Key phrase here is “mostly good.”

Things had gone pretty smoothly the first week, and with just a few exceptions of me having to grab on for the ride and say things like “whoa,” “quit,” “easy now” or “no,” Myah had heard nothing but a litany of “good girl,” “nice job,” “gooood,” “what a big girl,” et cetera and so forth, to positively reinforce good behavior.

At about the one-week mark, though, she had a day when she was done with this business. I just hung onto the foot for the ride while trying to get some kind of wrapping on it to protect the wound from the building temper tantrum that she could not be talked out of.

I won the race, so the foot was wrapped enough when the rodeo on a rope started. I made it out of harm’s way, and the halter, lead rope and post held, but all the medical supplies were scattered, lost and/or destroyed.

Her lesson that day was “temper tantrums don’t get you out of this duty, and it doesn’t matter how pouty-faced you are, you still have to stand there to get bandaged.” To keep her at peace that lesson, while she clung to the remnants of her drama trauma, I had a running monologue of “good girl,” “nice job,” “gooood,” “what a big girl,” et cetera and so forth, ad nauseam, as reward for standing quietly till I was done.

And I had to make it sound believable even though in my head I was saying in a tired voice “you are a giant jackass of horse” and other choice phrases, ad nauseam.

Somewhere in the “good girl” sound loop — and the sweating — it occurred to me that I have a lot of pets and they get a lot of positive reinforcement throughout the day when they come when called, load up, get out of the way, stop making noise, stop picking on one of their peers, stopped chasing someone or something they weren’t supposed to. Everybody gets a “good girl” or a “good boy” for doing what? What they are supposed to do to be a good citizen. Why couldn’t they just do their job?

Where is my “good girl” for doctoring, feeding, watering, grooming, cleaning up after, petting and poop scooping? Huh? I get none. I just do what I’m supposed to with nothing, no positive reinforcement for Pam.

It was disheartening.

Then I walked into the house and my husband said, “You are amazing.” He couldn’t have timed it better.

And I tell ya, I almost cried thinking, “Oh great. Now he wants something from me, too?”

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I may be too far gone to be saved from this cynical heart at http://www.facebook.com/viewfromthenorth40/.