A blonde decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion.

It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway.

The horse gallops along, seemingly ignorant of its slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, the blonde attempts to leap away from the horse and throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot becomes entangled in the stirrup, and she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over.

As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness when to her great fortune, Bobby, the Wal-Mart greeter, sees her and unplugs the horse.

Thank God for heroes.

The backyard rider: Usually found wearing shorts and sports bra in summer, and flannel nightgown, muck boots and down jacket in winter. Drives a Ford Truck of unknown vintage filled with saddle blankets and dog hair. Most have deformed toes on one or the other foot from being stepped on in thin Keds sneakers. Pulls a two-horse bumper-pull trailer kept behind the barn, used for hay storage. Her horse, Snookums, sports a hand-cut (with scissors) bridle path; duct tape holds a shoe on until the farrier gets by next month. Overheard frequently: "It's too hot/cold/wet/dry to ride."

The endurance rider: Wears Lycra tights in wild neon colors. The shinier the better, so the EMT's can find her body when her horse dumps her down a ravine. Wears hiking shoes of some sort, and T-shirts she got for paying $75 to complete another torturous ride. Her horse, Al Kamar Shazaam, used to be called "you bastard" until he found an owner as hyper as he. Can spook at a blowing leaf, spin a 360 and not lose his big trot rhythm or give an inch to the horse behind him. Has learned to eat, drink, pee and drop to his resting pulse rate on command; he has compiled 3,450 AERC miles-- with his rider compiling 3,445-- the missing five miles are the ones when he raced down the trail without his rider after performing his trademark 360. Over-heard frequently: "Anyone have Advil?" "Anyone got some food? I think last year's Twinkies finally went bad." "For this pain I spend money?" "Shazaam, you bastard-- it's just a leaf [thud]!"

The natural horsemanship devotee looks like a throwback from a Texas ranch, despite the fact that he lives in the suburbs of New Jersey. Rope coiled loosely in hand in case he needs to herd any of those kids on roller-blades away from his F-350 dually in the WalMart parking lot. Cowboy hat strategically placed, and just dirty enough to look cool. Levi's are well worn. "Lightning" is, of course, this natural horsemanship guy's horse. Rescued from a bad home where he was never imprinted or broke in the natural horsemanship way, he specialized in running down his owners at feeding time, knocking children off his back on low-hanging branches, and baring his teeth to look mean. The hospitalization tally for his previous handlers was 12, until he was sent to Round Pen Randy; after ten minutes in said pen, he is now a totally well-broke horse, bowing to the crowd, and can put on his own splint boots (with R.P. Randy's trademark logo embossed on them). R.P.R. says, of all this, "Well, shucks ma'am, tweren't nuthin'!" "It's simple horsemanship." "With this special twirly flickitatin' rope ($107.95 plus tax), you'll be round-pennin' like me in no time!"

The dressage queen is freshly coiffed and dressed. Diamond stud earrings are elegant and stately, and not so large that they blind the judge during her passage-piaffe movements. $30 dollar denim jumper is worn over $300 full-seat white breeches and custom Koenigs. Her horse, Fleistergeidelsprundheim ("Fleistergeidel" for short) is a 17.3-hand warmblood who was bred to make Grand Prix in a European nation where his sellers are still laughing hysterically when they talk about 'zat crazy American.' Despite being runty, his new owner fell in love with his lofty gaits, proud carriage and tremendous athleticism. Never mind that this talent was not revealed until he was chased by a rabid fox, and has not been repeated since.

The hunter/jumper competitor is in a wide-striped polo shirt and beige breeches. The polo is so folks will know they're a jumper rider until they put on their shirt and stock tie. Baseball cap is mandatory after a ride, in order to exhibit free advertising for that trainer's stable for which they've forked over a mere grand or so per month. Her horse, Neverbeenraced, is a prime example of American Thoroughbred. The coat is deep bay, no markings, a textbook TB head (no jowl), and no unusual conformational characteristics other than crooked legs. Perfect, just perfect. The gelding has learned to count strides all by himself, and asks in midair which lead his mistress would like to land on today.

The Eventer is always hunched over. Bent forward under the load, it's from carrying three saddles, three bridles, three bits, and all related color-coordinated gear to every three-day event on the East Coast, or it could possibly be a defensive stance for protecting his/her wallet, which is, of course, nearly empty after buying three saddles, three bridles, three bits and all that color-coordinated gear. Looked down on by the H/J set as "people who just run their horses at fences" and by the dressage queens as "not pure dressage riders," eventers are smugly convinced that they are in fact the only people in the world who CAN ride, since the H/J's don't jump real fences and the dressage queens don't ride real horses. One popular horse, Fastnhighasican, is a Thoroughbred track reject who had never won (or placed) in a single race. Perfect eventer! He has two speeds: gallop and stop'n'dump, which are used at his discretion for all three phases of eventing. His favorite stunt is performed at cross-country water obstacles where his rider invariably stands up slimed in waist-deep in murky pond water and threatens to sell him to Shinbanger's owner. Called "Hi-ass" for short, Fastnhighasican delights in another hilarious speed variation, the imfreeandyoucantcatchmegallop, a real crowd-pleaser. It brings down the house when he stops and licks the Crisco off his legs before continuing on to the merciless telephone-pole jump just ahead.

The gymkhana rider will ride anything that still has three legs and can be dragged into the arena with less than three other horses. Any color or breed will do so long as when you release the reins it runs for its life. They have never heard of 'leads' but that is ok because the horses haven't either. Anything goes for riding apparel and they laugh at the poor fools that pay for special 'riding clothes'. A top contender is Pinball, who bolts crookedly toward the first barrel, ricochets off the fence and careens toward the second barrel. Last time out the fence failed to turn him and he leapt into the crowd. After he has taken his owner around the course, the proud parents put their offspring on him to run the pee-wee division. Shinbanger doesn’t need a fence and does his very best to hug the turn around the barrel as close as he can, using his riders now swollen leg to gage the distance. These horses stand outside the arena like they died last week, and only come to life when approaching the entryway, where the electric wire for the timer is used to help them ‘charge’ into the pattern.

In general the draft horse and the pony have a few traits in common. Both tend toward an abundance of hairy trim; thick manes and tails, also generous feathers and whiskers. Short thick powerful necks excellent for pulling (a plow or a rider from the saddle), sturdy legs (for trampling things), and voracious appetites.

Despite these commonalities, breeding for a drafony is of questionable intelligence. First there is the obvious size issue that can result in undesirable amalgamations; such as a pony body with a draft head, or the draft body on pony legs. There is also the possibility of getting a creature that is three feet high and five feet wide. This might be advantageous if you need a new dinning table and don’t mind a lot of extra ‘fiber’(hair) in your food.

If by chance you luck out and get something resembling a normal equine, another point to consider is the character combination. It is widely know that the pony has a remarkable cleverness, especially in terms of getting out of work or into mischief; when coupled with the draft brawn it becomes a formidable weapon.

The simple maneuver of sideswiping a fence post or tree with the rider’s knee, elevates from bruising to breaking. The pony trademark bolt to a ‘road-runner stop’ with your head down now has a g-force of Five point three. A simple nip may remove four fingers in one easy bite.

Imagine if you will the drafony decision that the grass is indeed greener on the neighbors lawn. With this increased strength and mass no fence stands a chance. Simply pretend an itchy butt and push the inconvenient fence over, its so easy it almost takes the fun out of it. And what holes these delightful size four feet can punch, in no time the yard looks like the aftermath of a gopher convention. For a glorious finish to a fine romp, placing of those hooves on the unprotected sneaker clad toes of the person trying to round you up is just the thing.

With the crossing of two such great weight carriers, no rider is too big. However, being able to carry and wanting to carry are two very different things. Pony tricks with a thousand pounds of muscle behind them become ten times more effective. No child and few adults stand a chance of pulling that drafony neck and head out of the grass. Don’t like the selected direction, just yank the rider out of the saddle with a well timed toss of the head and proceed on the better(barn or nearest lush grass) course. Did the rider say trot? What fun… think thousand pound pogo-stick, guaranteed to remove loose filings.

We must not forget the famous, sneaky, when you least expect it, pony buck; now registering eight point six on the Richter scale. Or the ever popular drop down one-eighty; with a leg sticking straight off each side of this broad beamed creature there is no chance of getting a grip. You will end up sitting in the dirt, quite possibly in the same ‘split’ position. Not to worry about your loose mount, the drafony will head straight to the barn or nearest good eating (like the grouch’s garden or the nursery).

Also factor in both breed’s tendency toward an unflappable (is it eatable?) mind set. Neither one to panic (except when looking for an excuse to be an idiot) when faced with an obstacle between them and lunch. Willing to wade through any kind of fence wire and now able to drag huge pieces of it (complete with posts) totally unconcerned with the trailing debris. (This, it should be pointed out, has no training relationship to a trail class maneuver or dragging lead rope.) Furthermore the drafony smarts know when the electric is operating or not and how to use the clout to bend or snap the puny post and ground it out.

Finding tack to fit the drafony is an impossible task; too big for pony items, too small for draft sizes and too wide for horse tack. This lack of tack will not offend the drafony, who will not mind in the least forgoing doing any work. For the adventurous type, the drafony back is perfect for circus type riding. This is where you spring up and stand in the middle of the back till you loose your balance and pretend to have jumped down.

There is one trait you can be sure will be inherited from the draft side of the cross. Regardless of the size of the resultant drafony, the manure production will equal the larger parent.

To induce labor in a mare? Take a nap.

To cure equine constipation? Load them in a clean trailer.

To cure equine insomnia? Take them in a halter class.

To get a horse to stay very calm and laid back? Enter them in a liberty class.

To get a horse to wash their own feet? Clean the water trough and fill it with fresh water.

To get a mare to come in heat? Take her to a show.

To get a mare in foal the first cover? Let the wrong stallion get out of his stall.

To make sure that a mare has that beautiful, perfectly marked foal you always wanted? Sell her before she foals.

To get a show horse to set up perfectly? Get him out late at night or anytime no one is a round to see him.

To induce a cold snap in the weather? Clip a horse.

To make it rain? Mow a field of hay.

To make a small fortune in the horse business? Start with a large one.

1. Blowing Paper: "At any moment it could whip up into our faces, covering our noses. We could suffocate. And don't try to tell us you'd do CPR."

2. Barking Dogs: "What? You've never read Steven King's CUJO?"

3. Puddles of Water: "Quicksand."

4. Trash Cans: "They've been known to swallow horses and transport them into another dimension."

5. Babies and Li'l Kids: "Long lost tribe of horse-eating pygmies."

6. Plaid Horse Blankets: "Hey, when was the last time you wore plaid? It adds 100 lbs."

7. Ropes and Hoses on the Ground: "Dreaded North American Trail Snakes."

8. Ponies: " They want to take over the world."

9. Windy Days: "Two Words: impending tornado."

10. Large rocks: “sleeping Dragon very dangerous to wake.”

Response to Dr Phil's comment on horse ownership as exercise:

At this time of year, after the holidays, ads for weight-loss programs saturate print media and the airwaves. Even TV talk shows devote time to the battle of the bulge. I caught part of a Dr. Phil episode in which the prominent self-help guru was evaluating the situation of one overweight guest. The woman commented that she'd like to buy a horse so she could get exercise via riding. "That's great for the horse," responded Dr. Phil drolly, "but what good is it for you?"

Clearly, the good doctor doesn't own a horse. At least, not the right horse.

A quiet, well-broke, agreeable mount may indeed not offer much in the way of fitness training. But the right horse (and most of us have owned 1 or 2, haven't we?) will provide a body-building, cardiovascular-enhancing workout that would make Richard Simmons envious. Allow me to explain...

With the right horse, you begin your fitness program by walking out to the pasture. As you stride briskly, you carry the halter and lead rope behind you, pushed up high on your back so the lead doesn't drag. The purpose of this is to tone your chest and upper-arm muscles (because you're not fooling your horse- -he knows what you're carrying). As you approach to within a few feet of him, he'll walk slowly away from you, then stop. This will be repeated several times in succession, until you're ready to jog. At that point, the horse will trot, then gallop around the pasture.

If you're at the advanced level of fitness, you may continue chasing after him for maximum aerobic benefits. Beginners may prefer to toss the halter and lead on the ground, bend forward from the waist, and engage in heavy breathing and chanting (that's what we'll call it, anyway--chanting) as the horse continues to circle the field. When the horse determines you've had enough of this warm-up session, he'll allow you to catch him.

Now comes the total upper-body workout of grooming. The right horse, of course, will be caked in dried mud. The cement-like consistency of it will require work-to-exhaustion effort of your biceps and triceps.

Next comes the bending, stretching, and toning of hoof-picking. Bend over, pick up the horse's left front foot, then be prepared to jump back as he stomps it back down to the ground. (Keep your knees bent as you jump, to protect your lower back.) Reach down and pick up the foot again, hopping about with the horse to maintain your grip as you attempt to pick what seems to be dirt mixed with Super Glue from the hoof. Eventually the horse may stand still; you may be chanting by this time. Repeat the entire circuit 3 more times, with the remaining feet.

Once you can stand erect again, it's time for the insect repellent exercise. True, with this one, your horse may actually get more of a workout than you do, but you certainly get more of the repellent. It goes like this: Squirt!-circle-circle. Squirt!-circle-circle. Squirt!-circle-circle---and so on, until you're completely misted with repellent.

With the right horse, saddling up provides both aerobic and strength building benefits. The trick is to keep your feet moving as you heft the saddle blanket over and over, trying to keep it in place on a moving target. The blanket exercise warms you up for the saddle exercise, for which the routine is the same, only the weight is much greater--perfect for buffing those hard-to-tone shoulder muscles.

Now comes the mounting exercise. With the right horse, it's left leg up, hop-hop-hop, left leg down. Left leg up, hop-hop-hop, left leg down. For balance, go around to the other side and continue the exercise (right leg up, hop-hop-hop, right leg down, etc.). When your heart rate begins to exceed your target range, look for a bucket. Bend over, pick it up, place it upside-down next to the horse, wait for the horse to move away, then bend over, pick it up again, place it next to the horse, and so on. When the horse deems you've had enough of these repetitions, he'll stand still and allow you to actually mount.

At this point, of course, you'll be too exhausted to ride. It's best not to overdo it, so dismount, grab a protein bar, and head to the shower.

Husbands Vs. Horses

Good Things About Husbands:

Husbands are less expensive to shoe.

Feeding a husband doesn't require anything that even mildly compares with the hassle of putting up hay.

A lame husband can still work.

A husband with a belly-ache doesn't have to be walked.

Husbands don't try to scratch their heads on your back.

They're better able to understand puns.

If they're playing hard to catch you *may* be able to run them down on foot.

They know their name.

They pay their own bills.

They apologize when they step on your toes.

They seldom refuse to get in the vehicle.

They don't panic, yelling and running all through the house when you leave them alone. (unless you left the kids too)

For a nominal fee you can hire someone else to clip them.

The Horse's Advantage:

If they don't work out you can sell them.

They don't come with in-laws.

You don't have to worry about your children looking like them.

You never have to iron their saddle pads.

If you get too fat for one you can shop for a bigger one.

They smell good when they sweat.

You can repair their "clothes" with duct tape.

It's possible to keep them from "jumping the fence".

You can force them to stay in good physical condition...with a whip if necessary.

They don't want their turn at the computer.

They may turn white with age, but not bald.

They learn to accept restraint.

They don't care what you look like, as long as you have a carrot.

.

Some group of scientists sat around having coffee one morning and came up with the conclusion that humans are the intelligent species.. that homo sapiens are far superior in brain power to all of the other world's creatures....

So, my unscientific brain got to thinking about this one day...about how the world could or would be like if we thought and acted more like our horses. This is what I came up with:

That we (mares) should sit at the kitchen table when our new "Journals" came and pick out our men (stallions). These stallions would be only the best that were allowed to reproduce- good looking, intelligent, athletic, healthy and excel in a particular discipline. All others would be gelded.
Hmmmm…..
And that we could pick out a different stallion every year without earning a bad reputation!

That we should be allowed to roam around all day and eat (graze), nap, enjoy the outdoors, and socialize with our buddies as pretty pasture ornaments with all our needs taken care of by somebody else!

That "fat" would be considered a desirable asset and prove that we are "easy keepers".

That we should be waited on--our rooms cleaned, and an all you can eat buffet before us everyday.

That we should get new shoes or a pedicure every five to six weeks and our hair done daily.

That we should be chauffeured around when we need to go somewhere in an expensive vehicle designed just for us...oh and with food in front of us while we travel.

That once our babies are weaned they can't move back home.

That we should have better clothes, grooming supplies, living conditions and medical care than the people that take care of us.

Okay, scientists...now who is really smarter???

On the first day of creation, God created the Horse.

On the second day, God created man to serve the horse.

On the third day, God created all the animals of the Earth to spook the Horse when Man was upon his back.

On the fourth day, God created an honest day's work so that Man could Labor to pay for keeping of the Horse.

On the fifth day, God created the grasses in the field so that Horse could eat and man could toil and clean up after the Horse.

On the sixth day, God created veterinary science to keep the Horse healthy and Man broke.

On the seventh day, God rested and said, "This is good. This will teach Man humility, it will tire him out and keep him striving ever forward To meet the needs of the Horse."

* Believe in the 11th Commandment: Inside leg to outside rein.

Know that all topical medications come in either indelible blue or neon yellow.

Think nothing of eating a sandwich after mucking out stables.

Know why a thermometer has a yard of yarn attached to one end of it.

Are banned from Laundromats.

Fail to associate whips, chains and leather with sexual deviancy.

Can magically lower their voices five octaves to bellow at a pawing horse.

Have a language all their own ("If he pops his shoulder, I have to close that hand and keep pushing with my seat in case he sucks back".)

Will end relationships over their hobby.

Cluck to their cars to help them up hills.

Insure their horses for more than their cars.

Will give you 20 names and reasons for that bump on your horse.

Know more about their horse's nutrition than their own.

Have neatsfoot oil stains on the carpet right next to the TV.

Have a vocabulary that can make a sailor blush.

Have less wardrobe than their horse.

Engage in a hobby that is more work than their day job.

Know mucking stalls is better then Zoloft any day.

Tina Trailrider’s favorite activity is competitive trail, she has almost as many miles logged in the saddle, as miles around the pasture when she wants to catch her grey Arab, ‘Lefmealone’ to ride. Often heard to exclaim, “Lets do 5 more miles,” when everybody else was sore and exhausted an hour ago.

Ronda Reward won’t take her mount, the bright orange chestnut QH gelding, ‘Dragmeinn’ to any competitions without a payback. Where he appears in all his lime green color coordinated nylon gear; bridle, tie-down, breast collar, blanket, boots and crop. All still sparkling new since she never uses any of it for the 80 practice runs a day at home. “I won’t run him for nothing.” She explains, “it’s not worth it for a ribbon.”

Donna Dressage wouldn’t dream of riding her imported Warmblood ‘Opherprict’ outside the ring. He might get dirty, no one is ever allowed to see him with a hair out of place, she spends more a week on his hair care than on her own monthly salon visits. Besides, he’s much too valuable to risk his size 3 hooves on any footing that hasn’t been ‘groomed’ for at least an hour.

Sally Springover got ‘Jacksquat’ from a thoroughbred farm where they couldn’t keep him in any of the fences. Since he was still a stallion this created many problems, (three of them are racing now). ‘Jackie’ will jump anything that gets in front of him. His style is a cross between a rabbit’s spring and a cannon blast; quick, crooked, and loud(splintering wood and pvc.). He’s generally in the ‘finals’ since when he’s through there isn’t enough course left to continue.

Living with O.C.E.A.N. Syndrome

Obsessive Compulsive Equine Attachment Neurosis Syndrome

By Scooter Grubb

Just recently, after years of research, I have finally been able to give a name to what my wife and I have been living with for years.

It's an affliction, for sure, which when undiagnosed and misunderstood can devastate and literally tear a family apart. Very little is known about O.C.E.A.N. Syndrome. But it is my hope this article will generate interest from researchers involved in the equine and psychological sciences. You will, no doubt, begin to identify similar symptoms in your own family and hopefully now be able to cope.

Obsessive Compulsive Equine Attachment Neurosis Syndrome (O.C.E.A.N.S) is usually found in the female and can manifest itself anytime from birth to the golden years. Symptoms may appear any time and may even go dormant in the late teens! , but the syndrome frequently re-emerges in later years.

Symptoms vary widely in both number and degree of severity. Allow me to share some examples which are most prominent in our home.

The afflicted individual:

1. Can smell moldy hay at ten paces, but can't tell whether milk has gone bad until it turns chunky.

2. Finds the occasional "Buck and Toot" session hugely entertaining, but severely chastises her husband for similar antics.

3. Will spend hours cleaning and conditioning her tack, but wants to eat on paper plates so there are no dishes.

4. Considers equine gaseous excretions a fragrance.

5. Enjoys mucking out four stalls twice a day, but insists on having a housekeeper mop the kitchen floor once a week.

6. Will spend an hour combing and trimming an equine mane, but wears a baseball cap so she doesn't waste time brushing her own hair.

7. Will dig through manure piles daily looking for worms, but does not fish.

8. Will not hesitate to administer a rectal exam up to her shoulder, but finds cleaning out the Thanksgiving turkey cavity for dressing quite repulsive.

9. By memory can mix eight different supplements in the correct proportions, but can't make macaroni and cheese that isn't soupy.

10. Twice a week will spend an hour scrubbing algae from the water tanks, but has a problem cleaning lasagna out of the casserole dish.

11. Will pick a horse's nose, and call it cleaning, but becomes verbally violent when her husband picks his.

12. Can sit through a four-hour session of a ground work clinic, but unable to make it through a half-hour episode of Cops.

The spouse of an afflicted victim:

1. Must come to terms with the fact there is no cure, and only slightly effective treatments. The syndrome may be genetic or caused by the inhaling of manure particles which, I propose, have an adverse effect on female hormones.

2. Must adjust the family budget to include equine items - hay, veterinarian services, farrier services, riding boots and clothes, supplements, tack, equine masseuse and acupuncturist - as well as the (mandatory) equine spiritual guide, etc. Once you have identified a monthly figure, never look at it again. Doing so will cause tightness in your chest, nausea and occasional diarrhea.

3. Must realize that your spouse has no control over this affliction. More often than not, she will deny a problem even exists as denial is common.

4. Must form a support group. You need to know you're not alone - and there's no shame in admitting your wife has a problem. My support group, for instance, involves men who truly enjoy Harley Davidsons, four-day weekends and lots of scotch. Most times, she is unaware that I am even gone, until the precise moment she needs help getting a 50- pound bag of grain out of the truck.

Now you can better see how O.C.E.A.N.S. affects countless households in this country and abroad. It knows no racial, ethnic or religious boundaries. It is a syndrome that will be difficult to treat because those most affected are in denial and therefore, not interested in a cure.

So, I am taking it upon myself to be constantly diligent in my research in order to pass along information to make it easier for caretakers to cope on a day to day basis.