It’s no surprise that many people are caught off-guard when their children enter adolescence. While it’s certainly normal for teenagers to behave as if their bodies have been invaded by aliens, it doesn’t make living with teens any easier for their parents. While no doubt many parents muse on the possibilities of military school for their obnoxious offspring, the vast majority deal with this often difficult time as best they can, muttering “this, too, shall pass” under their breath while dealing with the routine challenges of adolescence.
The same is true of most dog-owners as well, of course. Many dogs go through a difficult adolescence, one that that strains the bonds and — if the supply of young adult dogs in shelters is any indication — occasionally breaks them as well. Adolescent dogs, like adolescent children, are often impulsive, thoughtless, rude, destructive, hyperactive and prone to shifting gears with little warning. Oh yes, and they can also be sweet, attentive and loving.
You can have faith that I know all about this. Because of … Faith.
Faith is a handful, to say the least. And she actually did go to “military school” — to her co-breeder’s training facility in Texas, while I was on the book tour — and came back not that much different from when she left. On the plus side, she now understands that “here” and “fetch” are not suggestions but words meant to be followed by actions. On the negative side, she still thinks the table on the back patio is there to allow her a better look inside the back window when I put her out, and that underwear is something most fun when shared with company. And she still goes from 0 to 60 in .5 seconds.
She’s not a bad dog, by any means. Just a big ol’ bag o’ adolescent crazy beans. What she needs, I know, is exercise (daily), training (more, regularly) and patience (mine, unending).
The exercise she’s getting, in exhausting daily doses, from a source I wouldn’t have imagined two weeks ago: A horse named Duke.
Duke is the horse I’m now leasing, a sweet 21-year-old gelding who has seen it all and done it twice. He has taught countless beginners to ride and worked as a summer camp horse as well. He’s a nondescript brown Appendix (or, if you prefer, a quarterhorse-thoroughbred cross) who greets everyone as if she has a carrot in her pocket (for which he will check). His current owner jumped into ownership after a few lessons convinced him he loved riding. He bought Duke after the woman who was giving him lessons looked around for an older, near-”bomb-proof” horse and found Duke in need of a new home.
For the last year or more I’ve been looking around on my own for a horse like Duke, not to buy but to lease. I’ve looked at a half-dozen horses, maybe more, but until Duke not one was the right fit for me, in one way or another. But I knew that leasing (either full-time or half) is a great way to get into riding, or back into riding, as in my case. So I kept looking until last week, when … I met Duke.
Duke’s in a fantastic little barn just south of the University of California, Davis, on a quiet, set-back piece of property surrounded by miles of protected farmland. With light traffic, I can get to the stable in 20 minutes, and I plan my trips to the barn for the off-peak times to avoid the crush of commuters. The lease works for Duke’s owner because he has a work project that’s making it hard to find any time for Duke, much less get out after work to care for him daily. So I’ve got a horse for the next three months, and then … we’ll go from there. Chances are Duke’s owner will want to have him back full time, or share him 50/50, but who knows? Sometimes leases turn into buys, but either way you get to try the horse without committing for life.
I’m finishing my first week with Duke, and it’ll be another week and change before I tack him up and ride on my own. I wanted to start by taking care of him, by going out just after dawn and taking him from his stall and turning him loose on pasture while I cleaned his stall, dumped the old shavings and manure and then put down fresh shavings. I wanted to spend time grooming him, fussing over him and giving him treats, and working in the round pen on his responsiveness to me. Yes, I’m anxious to ride, but I’m more interested in laying a good foundation for our future partnership. I want us both to feel comfortable with each other.
Everything is going according to plan, with the added bonus of how good Duke is with Faith.
The second day out to the barn, I brought Faith, intending to leave her in the truck until I was done with Duke, then walk her around the stable on leash to see her reactions. She was so good on Day One that I let her drag a long line for a couple of days. When she continued to impress with her good manners, I let her off-leash and was delighted to see her react calmly to her surroundings, which aren’t really that strange since she spent the last four months on a cattle ranch, and previously stayed on a friend’s farm visiting with the horse there. She has not bothered any horse, has greeted people and other dogs with a wagging tail and has responded to every request for “here” and “heel” promptly and enthusiastically.
Best of all, Faith has come back home every day exhausted, which is about the best thing an adolescent dog can be. When I start riding, she’ll be going with me, since the farm roads behind the barn are far from any traffic and she is built to cover distance in a smooth, effortless trot.
I expect a good summer for us all … me, Faith and our new pal, Duke.
(Top: Faith, exhausted. Above: Duke, unimpressed.)
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