meet the taco horse

I've never thought I could get a horse for a taco. No, really, when I tried to hand over the dollar with the bill of sale to Ace's old owner, he told me to keep it as long as I would get him something from Taco Bell. I don't think he was serious, but when he came out the next weekend to shoe my new horse, I had a taco for him. Now, that darn horse has cost me a lot more than a taco, especially in the last few months, but I digress. Ace is single-handedly the most amazing horse I've ever owned, and not just because of his price, or how pretty he is. We kind of just click. You horse people know the feeling; you sit down on YOUR horse, and just let out a collective breath. It's kind of like sitting down on your favorite armchair, or behind the wheel of your dream car. It normally takes years to get this kind of feeling with your horse, as it did with my Paint gelding, Captain. I joke that I will always be Captain's "mom," because I can read his mind and know exactly what he's going to do, or how to get him to do something. It's a bit of the opposite with Ace; he reads MY mind, and executes anything I ask of him with the best effort he can.

He'd never really been ridden consistently, and I could feel that when I climbed on his back for the first time. I'd just tried to ground drive him, but the lunge lines behind his hocks made him scared and he ran from them. As soon as I got him to walk quietly, I'd stopped him and unattached the lines. He didn't have the best of ground manners, either, and had practically run me over on the way down to the round pen from his pasture. But he was so darned pretty, and sweet, I kind of forgave him, even when he wouldn't stand still for more than two seconds when I tried to tack him up. It was after I unhooked him and put the lines over the fence that he was standing there, quietly looking at me as if I was crazy to take a horse that I'd never ridden before. And, that was that. I climbed up his 16.3 hands and had the ride of my life. Ace was green, but light on the bit, and he was squirelly, but he moved off my leg. He was a 12-year-old-green-broke-baby-minded horse. But I had that feeling, that feeling of complete clicking-ness, and it was love at first ride for Ace and I.

It didn't take long for his "personality plus" to come out. He has this funny little quirk when he seems like he's eating his tongue, and he curls his lip when I scratch his belly or let him smell something new--and I will promise that he has to smell everything. He was a little off the first couple minutes that I rode him, but the farriers said it was a clubfoot from bad/inconsistent farrierwork, and I didn't think twice about it. I just made sure he was warmed up well and trotted for no more than ten minutes per ride, as I fully expected that foot to get fixed so I could ride him normally. He walked like a dog beside me, and stood still while tied and groomed, his half-Thoroughbred blood completely forgotten, until I mounted up. Then Ace was charged with energy, on the bridle and stepping up behind himself. It took a while to keep him from prancing, but soon he was walking on the buckle around the arena. He never did anything wrong or stupid, and was wonderful on the trails. He just had a lot of energy.

Then, one day while I was lunging him over some poles, he tripped and wouldn't put his leg down. I still remember screaming and crying that he'd broken his leg, and to please, please put weight on it. He didn't break his leg that day, but he had fractured his sesamoid ten years earlier, as a matter of fact. Ace has now been on stall rest for 60 days, and we're hoping it's a soft tissue injury, the fractured sesamoid having nothing to do with it. It's hard to stay positive, but it's as if all of our plans of jumping and going on camping trips and rigorous trail rides have gone out the window. Heck, I don't even know if he'll be usable again. I'm eyeball deep in vet bills, and Legend shots, and Surpass topical bute, and one eggbar shoe for his front left, and yet it's out of the question to pass him off to someone else. I walk him twice a day for ten minutes, and give him baths and grooming sessions. It's so very hard to know he's in pain. I want to chronicle his recovery, and his rehab, so I can look back at this first post and know this was a hard time and I'm so glad Ace turned out to be alright. I want to look back and say it was a false alarm, and that nothing's wrong with my beautiful perfect horse. I'm in high school now, and I want to be able to have Ace long enough to make a living and be able to turn him out on green grass to live out his days, and people will look and say what a pretty horse, and that he looks great for his age. He deserves it; he's had a long life, and I can only hope his life with me is even longer. Ace is worth so much more than a taco.