She flexed into her corners. Her 10 and 20 meter circles were pretty good. Small children stayed perfectly balanced trotting cavaletti and looked darling.
Hashy was my dependable matron for years. When one of my new students showed me pictures of her previous vaulting competitions, a light went on. I really needed an activity that would engage more than the five-at-a-time students I allowed per class. Summer was coming, I needed an income to supplement summer school and I wanted to broaden my horizons. So, I checked out a book on vaulting from the library, photocopied the exercises, bought a used vaulting rig, then had one made, as well.
By this time, the riding school had become both a great tax write-off and a source of extra money for tack and riding school improvements. I practiced vaulting with Hashy myself. Someone held the longe line, and I practiced the five or six rudimentary school exercises. Vaulting instructors may read this with skepticism, but remember, I wasn’t going to competitions, and Hashy’s collected canter in a round pen or on the longe line was 100% consistent, slow, and balanced. I was aiming to improve student confidence. What better way than to have students run alongside a cantering horse, jump and haul themselves up, balance on a beautiful broad back, do a gymnastic figure or two, then jump or slide off the rear, with grace and success? I had both boys and girls: boys were desirable because their greater strength allowed for harder exercises, and they could balance the girls for multiple combinations. Hashy was the only horse I ever had that worked for this. We had a blast with “vaulting breaks” each summer for years.
Time passed. Hashy was the horse of choice not just for the school; my husband still used her for pack trips, mountain trail rides, and the occasional local hunter/jumper show. She competed with him in the 3-Day Event at Pebble Beach. Height wasn’t her forte, and her heavy musculature was at odds with the light horses and ponies in the hunter classes. 3-Day Eventing was my passion at that time, not hers, but she always got around with students, and she would place when another entry had a stop, or a rail down. She was not one to win on her dressage score!
As the years passed, we noticed a certain stiffness in her movements. X-rays revealed ringbone, not a death sentence, to be sure, but a condition to be treated with bute (basically aspirin for horses), yucca, and TLC. I became an authority on arthritic conditions and I realized that I was going to need another dependable school horse. I wanted another Hashy.
We tried to breed her. There was a gorgeous Palomino quarter horse stud called Peter Palleo in the area. No go. Hashy was getting old at this point, and wanted nothing to do with him. She became a pet. She saw the school go from a stable of one to a going concern of, probably, twenty school horses. The number wasn’t stable, because many of our boarders liked me to use their horses as school horses, so the number of horses available to me fluctuated from time to time; I did not own all the horses I used in the school. As we made improvements, added stalls, built the barn, Hashy always had the premier location, and there was never a doubt as to who was the Grande Dame. All these years later, I am fully aware of the influence this mare had on my life. She literally gave me the options that would guide the directions I went with the riding school. She taught me that horses have limits, too.
Hashy didn’t like cows. Period. One day, at a local roping arena, I wanted to take a shortcut past the roping chute. A student was riding Hashy; I was on someone else. I looked around, and saw her falling behind, so I went to take the reins to help horse and rider by. Hashy looked at me, looked at the cows in the chute, and sat down. Calmly. Well, she lost her balance, and began falling sideways. Her rider screamed, once. Hashy, again calmly, thrust her back feet out to get her balance, rose back up, and stood there. She shot the clear thought to me that she was going absolutely no further. She wasn’t spooking, she had stayed under the kid, and I had better deal with it. I calmed my student, who had not become unbalanced in the least, turned around, and took the long way. Lesson learned. No horse is really perfect. Some things don’t need to be done your way if there are other just as good ways to do them. I have had that discussion soooo many times over the years, with animals and humans. I learned to value and consider the merits of my horses’ opinions early on. It was one of my first and most important lessons.
Hashy was fully aware of her Number One status in the barn. Feeding time was something she enjoyed. As she aged, got stiffer, and was ridden less, I think she looked forward to the interaction we always gave her when we fed her -the pets, rubs, and treats. Upon hearing the feed wagon, her tail would come up, her neck would arch, and no one would guess she was way north of 25. She would snake that thick neck and kick up her heels, then trot over to the bucket, and wait for her due. Her last night was no different. It was nippy weather, and she was full of it. She kicked up her heels, then gave a playful rear, which is when her hip gave out. It was instantly obvious that something was wrong: she couldn’t get up, and we heard the pop. We called the vet immediately: our compassionate friend told us to get Hashy to his hospital as quickly as we could.
My husband and I both knew this was it. Getting her up and into the trailer was a credit only to her will and desire to please us. This was the first trip of its kind of the many I have had to take over the years. I don’t know how my husband stayed on the road; the tears just flowed. At the vet, we were tearful and silent. The unloading was silent, and to this day, I do not know how vets handle these events with the grace they do.
The drive home was beyond tears. I am tearing up as I write this. I was, and am, thankful at so many levels, that I was graced with the companionship of this horse. I used to joke that her name, Hashish, was oh so appropriate. Her color was that of the finest. Riding with her, working with her, was a much better high, however. When I tried to get “HASHISH” as the license plate of our first car (a 1960 VW bug), of course, that didn’t happen. So, we settled for “HASHY”, and I still have it. How fortunate I am that my first school horse turned out to be the best possible. Hashy just naturally met high expectations, and they will always take you further than just going with the flow. This was the second of her lessons. Every act associated with my riding school assumes the best outcome because I had the best to start with and never knew any differently.
2
BENEFACTOR
The Hard Work Begins
When the riding school started, my husband and I were renting a house across the street from his parents. The main estate had since been sub-divided. My in-laws lived in a gorgeous, stately 7500 square foot mansion across the street; we rented a much smaller stone and stucco home in the middle of an orange grove that had originally been built for the son of a former resident of the big house.
Our piece of property included the house, a separate two car garage/workshop, and a sort of shed diagonally across from the house. We had about an acre of land, but the orange trees and stumps in the exact middle of it, between the shed and the house, and a huge graveled driveway, precluded using it for any kind of exercise area for the horses. We built a rudimentary fence from wire and two by fours, and those were our corrals. They were small and rickety, and needed frequent repair, but they were cheap. We did have wire fencing of a kind around the property, sort of an inexpensive version of chain link. When I look back on all
