Just thinking about Cotton

On Cinco de Mayo, 2001, Cotton (an Appendix Quarter Horse, registered name: Wild Stride) came to live with me in Tucson. (Okay, he actually lived at the stable down the street, but you know what I mean.)

Wild Stride (aka Cotton), May 2001

My friend (we'll call her Renee) had allowed me to lease him from her, as I'd wanted needed a horse to ride. Since she had two other horses that kept her occupied, she wanted to send him to me, wanting someone she trusted to ride/train him.

Well, Renee and I looked at our calenders and decided that May 5th - Cinco de Mayo - would be a good day for her to trailer Cotton down to Tucson from northern Nevada. Cinco de Mayo landed on a Saturday that year.

See, we had to schedule it on a Saturday, so I wouldn't be at work.

Let me tell you . . . that Saturday was the longest day, having to wait for them to get there! I remember waiting at the stable, having gotten there just before dusk and hearing music, laughter, and lots of chatter from a Mexican cantina down the road. I wondered how many margaritas, Coronas, and nachos were being consumed at that cantina as I waited for Cotton, Renee, and her mom to arrive.

The next thing I knew, it was dark and a cool breeze was finally blowing.

And then a set of headlights pulled into the driveway . . . a truck and two-horse trailer. It was them!

Renee and her mom got out of the truck and I went over and hugged them. We opened the back of the trailer and backed Cotton out. He snorted and danced as we led him around, letting him stretch his legs.

It was kinda late (sometime after 8 PM, I think), when they arrived. After we'd gotten Cotton settled in his stall, we headed back to my apartment, getting there around 9 or so. So it was too late to go out for Mexican food - they were beat after driving all day. I think I just made something quick and easy once we got to my place.

But the point is that Cotton was there, finally. And as far as Renee was concerned, he was mine.

Cotton and I always had great times together. And because he arrived on Cinco de Mayo, I always think of him every Cinco de Mayo.

Memory Lane Friday

This week's Memory Lane Friday is another "No Theme." For a few days, I tried to narrow down a topic.

But a Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs post (A Rattle You DON'T Want to Hear) on Tuesday made the light-bulb turn on over my head.

That means I'm going to write about a time I lived in Tucson, AZ and had an Appendix Quarter Horse named "Wild Stride."

"Wild Stride" in Tucson, circa May 2001.

"Wild Stride" in Tucson, circa May 2001.

"Cotton," as we called him, was a lot of fun. He was a Palomino, obviously, and I would joke that sometimes he acted like a blonde. Little fuzzy bunnies would occasionally scare him out of his wits. Same with fluffy clouds, a cool breeze and . . . well, you get the idea. (Please . . . no offense to you blondes.)

But if I worked him in the ring at least 3 days a week, and turned him out to run around the other days, he'd be mellow enough for me to take him on a trail ride, bareback.

Or maybe I'd have a lesson with my trainer one of those days. Or she'd ride him one or two of those days. Didn't matter what the combination was, just so long as he got worked at least 3 days.

Well, one early Saturday morning, I decided that I'd take him out on a trail ride (saddled, this time, and not a leisurely bareback trail ride). We'd do a lot of walking and trotting (part of which would be in the sandy wash), which would be a good "cardio workout" for him.

Plus, I was looking forward to getting to a particular part of our trail ride. There was this part where we'd leave the bottom of the sandy wash and head up to this dirt road where we could look down a drop on one side and see the wash below, and down the drop on the other side, where we could see some sort of quarry.

Both Cotton and I looked forward to this spot. I'd usually get into a two-point (making sure all my weight was in my heels, keeping my rear out of the saddle, and grabbing a bit of mane for safety). And then I'd squeeze my legs and say "Okay . . . go!" And we'd head off in a hand-gallop. 

After our hand-gallop and a little breather for Cotton, we'd be back to our walking and trotting in the wash before turning around and heading home.

Well . . .that was the plan, anyway.

I'd groomed him, got his bell boots on his front ankles, and tacked him up. (Bell boots or "overreach" boots protect a horse's front heels if he accidentally overreaches/steps on his front heels with his hind hooves, causing injury or shoe loss.) All the while I was daydreaming, looking forward to our trail ride. 

After mounting up, we headed out, thankfully before it got really hot (must've been in the upper 70s/low 80s). It was early summer in Tucson, and while humidity was low, temps could easily rise over 110 degrees, with little to no shade.

We'd only been out for . . . oh . . . about 10 - 15 minutes or so. At this point as we're walking along, while I was enjoying the southwestern landscape, Cotton suddenly slammed on the brakes. It startled me.

What the heck?!  I urged him forward. He swished his tail hard (I could hear the quick swish-swish-swish), while he threw his head around. But he would NOT budge.

I urged him forward again. He reared ever so slightly, just barely lifting his front hooves off the ground, but just enough that I got the message - he didn't want to go forward.

I looked around wondering what the problem was, while he was still acting weird, then felt him backing up.

At this point, I noticed that one of his bell boots was on the ground (it was one that opened/closed with velcro, making it easier to put on/take off, compared to the all-rubber ones). It must've come off as he was "acting up."

I decided to dismount and grab the boot so I could put it back on and continue with our ride.

But when he felt my weight shift on his back, he countered with his body, like he wasn't going to let me get off. I turned him and walked him a few feet toward home, then tried again to dismount.

Still, he wouldn't let me, so I dismounted from the right. Boy did that feel unnatural.

Then I took the reins over his head, holding them in my right hand as I walked toward the bell boot, ready to reach for it with my left hand.

He pulled back, snorting, reins going taut. I looked at him. His eyes were wide, showing lots of white.

And then I heard it.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt goosebumps all over my body, regardless of the rising temps of the day.

It was that scary, unwelcome sound of a rattlesnake's tail. 

I hadn't even seen it, because it was so well camouflaged against the sandy wash floor. But Cotton had sensed it/heard it/seen it long before I realized it was there.

When I realized it was there, I backed away slowly. Upon getting back to Cotton's side, we turned and walked away. Finally, when it seemed like we were a safe distance away I mounted up again, and we headed home, the lone bell boot left where it had fallen.

The adrenaline rush had finally dissipated by the time we got back to the stables.

Poor Cotton. He insisted on turning around as soon as he realized it was there, but I wasn't paying attention. Nevertheless, I am so grateful for him and his "acting up," because he saved me from a poisonous, deadly bite.

Memory Lane Friday is hosted by Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs. Please click on the button below to read her Memory Lane Friday post, as well as any other entries.

Please check back next Friday, when the topic is Halloween, Part I.

Fond Memories of May 5, 2001

Back in 2001, I was still on active duty in the Air Force, and stationed in Tucson, AZ.

Due to certain circumstances coming together, I was fortunate enough to be able to welcome an Appendix Quarter Horse into my life. His registered name was Wild Stride, but we just called him "Cotton" as his barn name; because he was a Palomino the nickname "Cotton" fit him.

Cotton belonged to one of my great friends, Brenda. She had three horses, and was willing to bring Cotton to me in Tucson from her home in northeast Nevada, not only because she barely had time for all three horses, but she knew I could use a horse of my own.

I'd ridden him once in the autumn of 1999, after I'd graduated from Officer Training School (OTS), and was on my way from Montgomery, AL (where OTS is located) to Vandenburg Air Force Base, in California.  Brenda and her family (and horses and dogs, cats, and other various animals) lived in northeastern Nevada, and they were not far from I-80, the highway I was traveling, as I headed west. I'd stayed with them overnight, and had gone on a trail ride with Brenda the afternoon I arrived. I'd ridden Cotton that afternoon, and found that he was a fun, nutty horse to ride.

So as we spoke that spring of 2001, she assured me that as far as she was concerned, Cotton would be all mine. I was in charge of him, of his training, of shoeing, veterinary issues . . . everything. He would be mine.

So we worked out a date for Brenda and her mom to drive him out to me. After I'd looked around at some area stables, I found a place down the road from my apartment and worked out the details. We agreed on a date I could have a stall available for Cotton, and what kind of boarding services would be included.

Plus, there was a hunter/jumper trainer working out of this particular stables, so not only would I have someone to take lessons from, I'd have someone to provide professional training rides on Cotton, when needed (if I were TDY (temporary duty) and out of town for a number of days or on leave, or such). And she'd give any necessary supplements (like biotin hoof supplements, worming as needed, etc), and she had a farrier she used for all her clients' horses hoof-care (regular maintenance and otherwise - like for a lost shoe).

So the day Brenda and her mom would be driving down with Cotton was set. Saturday May 5, 2001. I was excited, and impatient for the day to arrive.

And then I get a phone call from Brenda just a couple days before they were supposed to drive down to Tucson. An accident happened with Cotton!! I was so worried and disappointed when I first heard it was serious enough for an emergency vet visit to Brenda's barn.

Not that I blamed Brenda, but that this accident may delay Cotton's arrival and that was disappointing, and also, Brenda felt like she was letting me down - she wasn't, of course, because you can't foresee an accident . . . but she was disappointed. And so was I.

So apparently Cotton was bleeding a lot from his mouth. Brenda couldn't figure out what he had cut his mouth on, or where, exactly, the bleeding was coming from. Of course, she was panicked. But she was also disappointed, too, because she really wanted to get Cotton to me, not only because she had promised to, but because she trusted me enough with his care, and training (she and I both rode hunter/jumpers before, during and after attending Culver Academies together).

Brenda was able to catch him and figure out that the wound was not in his mouth, but on his lips, near the corner of his mouth, where the lips wrinkle when a bit is in the mouth. She was able to put a clean cloth or towel or something on it to staunch the bleeding until the vet got there.

He was able to stitch up the area with some of that dissolving thread stuff, so that in a matter of a couple weeks, the stitches would dissolve on their own as the wound healed, and Cotton wouldn't need a vet to take the stitches out once the wound was completely healed.

Of course, Cotton couldn't have a bridle on for a number of days, because a bit would be bad for the wound and perhaps take out the stitches. So the vet said he couldn't have a bridle on for something like 7-10 days. But the good news was that there would be no problem with his traveling in a few days. I'd be able to see him in a few days (though not ride him just yet, as I'd have to wait just about a week before putting a bridle on him).

All day Friday May 4th, I was antsy just waiting for 4:30 PM, when I could head home and go over all the stuff I had ready - all this stuff for Cotton . . . since Brenda was bringing his halter, lead-rope, brushes, and his bridle (and the bit he went well in - an eggbutt snaffle), I just made sure I had various other items - liniment, horse shampoo, a bag of carrots, fly spray, other random horse-care supplies, a clean saddle pad to go with my saddle I'd had for years, which, by the way, was the exact same make and model as the one Brenda used on Cotton. And I had a couple different girths already, so all I had to do was see which one was the best fit.

It was hard going to sleep that night, knowing Brenda and Cotton would be arriving the next day. But I did fall asleep.

The next morning, Cinco de Mayo, a Saturday, I think I may have gone to the gym as I normally did. But I don't remember for sure.

I kept my cell phone near me most of the day, just in case Brenda or her mom called while they were on the road. I'd given them directions to the barn from I-10, and I hoped their drive wasn't too bad.

Brenda had given me an estimate of when they expected to arrive in Tucson, so about an hour before they were to arrive, I headed down to the barn to make sure I had everything in place, and that Cotton's stall was ready for him (such as checking that the stall's automatic waterer was working, there was bedding in the stall, etc).

It started getting dark. I hung out on a picnic table at the front of the barn overlooking the street and the driveway.

Somebody I hadn't met yet - another person boarding his horse there at the stables - asked if I was okay, if I needed help or anything. I assured him, no, I didn't need any help, that I was okay and that I was just waiting for my friend and her mom to drive up with "my" horse in a trailer.

Since it was Cinco de Mayo, and it was Tucson, there were Cinco de Mayo parties around town. And at the bar/steakhouse down the street, there was a Cinco de Mayo party in full swing. I could hear the music, the laughing, partying voices wafting on the evening breeze. I listened to the faint sounds of this party, wondering how many Coronas, margaritas, nachos were being consumed, wondering which friends of mine were out at a Cinco de Mayo party, doubting that Brenda and her mom would want to go there after their long drive from northeastern Nevada (I think it was around 12-14 hours!).

I doubted that I'd really want to go, either. Cotton would be there. We'd have to take care of him and make sure he was okay before putting him up in his new stall. Plus, Brenda and her mom would have to park the truck and trailer in a good spot for the night, so it would be out of the way, but not so out of the way that it was in a difficult-to-park spot.

And I hadn't seen Brenda for a year or two. So it would be nice to talk at my nice, quiet apartment, instead of a loud Cinco de Mayo party.

They got there a bit later than expected, but only because they'd stopped a few times to let Cotton out to stretch his legs, take a rest, etc.

It was good to see him and Brenda and her mom once they got there. It was maybe around 7-8 PM when they got there. Both Brenda and her mom were understandably tired, worn out, glad to finally be there.

Cotton was alert, snorting, prancing around, when we got him out of the trailer. We hand-walked him in the main ring for a few minutes to let him stretch out. I went and turned on the arena lights and we took his leg wraps off (the ones that supported his legs while in the trailer) and the tail wrap off (to protect his tail from rubbing against the trailer's butt-bar behind his rump) and then unclipped the lead-rope from the halter so he could roam about freely for a bit. He felt good roaming about in the arena. He pranced around, sniffed at things, rolled.

So there he was. "My" horse Cotton. He'd finally arrived. And that's why I have fond memories of Cinco de Mayo.

Here are a few photos I took of Cotton 2-3 weeks after he arrived in Tucson:

You can see his golden-dappled coat.

Maybe some day soon, I'll talk about the last couple trail rides he took me on through the washes of Tucson, the golden setting sun, the pack of coyotes, the rattlesnake, how I like to think of the beautiful southwestern landscape bathed in golden light the color of Cotton's coat, and the saudade I inevitably feel when I think about those quiet times he and I shared.

The Fabric of Our Lives

Got lots of words swirling around my little gray cells but I lack the inspiration (or motivation) to wrangle them into a good story right now.

Instead, I thought I'd share a few photos of a well-loved friend of mine. I've been thinking about him a lot lately, now that spring has arrived and Cinco de Mayo is a little over a month away (I'll share that story on May 5th).

Scroll down a little and you'll see "Wild Stride," an American Quarter Horse Association (AQHA) registered Appendix Quarter Horse; his nickname was "Cotton." You'll see why we called ol' blondie "Cotton" when you see his photos.

He came to me on May 5, 2001, and after September 11th, I sent him back to his original owner (due to time constraints of mine while I was on active duty); he left me mid-October 2001.

But those few months he was with me in Tucson, AZ were wonderful. I continued to love him for the rest of his life, and I miss him.

I took these photos mid-May 2001, in Tucson, AZ. 

Here's his "head-shot":

I'm not sure exactly what he's looking at (maybe those other horses over yonder), but whatever he IS looking at sure has his attention - just look at those attentive ears:

Maybe you can see his golden dapples in this photo:

I had grand ideas of showing him in hunters/jumpers. Or maybe dabbling in Eventing. I think he would've been good at that, and the dressage training itself would've been good for him. 

Maybe one day I'll have another Quarter Horse or Appendix Quarter Horse. Once in a while I'll look through the "classifieds" on the AQHA website, just to browse through the horses that are for sale, and daydreaming about another Quarter Horse of my own.