He was all I'm not - "sometimes you just have to have that unconditional love"

Max has touched a lot of people by giving unconditional love, always. All our visitors from Europe were just smitten by him, and he is the main reason why Stephanie and Harald decided to adopt their first dog.


Max was all I'm not - I definitely don't love everyone (actually, one could argue I'm overly selective in my relationships), and I'm not into adoring looks. He was timid, clingy, always forgiving and had the biggest heart of all.


What I learned from him was that you have to accept animals and people as they are. Max would never have been a brave, independent dog, but we didn't need that anyway. JP and I resorted to saying "that's just Max", and that was it.


I read recently a great interview with Ingrid Klimke about her training philosophies, and one thing struck me. She said: "You have to develop a loving look at weaknesses. It doesn't mean that accepting weaknesses means you stop trying to do your best, or give up on your horse. It means you have to adapt in that you look at weaknesses with love and not pejoratively, while to continue to work to improve the weak points. That way you keep the joy of the sport and it leaves room for positive surprises and future moments of happiness."


What reduced me to tears today was what a fellow rider said to me at the barn. She is a successful, beautiful, very wealthy woman who seemingly has it all. Her comment after learning about Max' passing: "I understand the loss - sometimes you just have to have that unconditional love." So true - and that is exactly Max' contribution to all that knew him.

Godspeed Max - RIP

The most gentle of souls has left us today -- Max passed away while the veterinarian was on the way to us. 

"My body is gone, but I am always near. I'm everything you feel, see or hear. My spirit is free, but I'll never depart, as long as you keep me alive in your heart."

Love Always

Not the best of times - it's hard to say good-bye

Well, what's been in the cards for a while now has become painfully obvious: It's time to say good-bye to Max. Max is one of our Viszla's, the gentlest of dog souls you can ever meet. He has been with us for almost 13 years. He was a 'failed' (gun shy) hunting dog, so obviously the breeder/hunter had no use for him. He was the runt of the litter and afraid of his own shadow, but turned into the most loving companion ever. There is a reason why Viszlas are also called "Velcro-Dogs" - they stick to you like Velcro.


He used to come with me and Saumur to our lessons at Julie's in Saline, patiently waiting for us to be done. I even took him with me XC schooling, and as they requested a companion listed on the registration form (no schooling alone) I entered Max. Not sure what he would have done should I have come off, though? Probably licked me until I got up.


Over the last months his health declined and he became very frail, so we knew we didn't have long. North of 13 is ancient for a large dog. But even last Thursday he still went out on his run in the woods with Jaas. But then he took a turn for the worse yesterday. It is clear it's time, even though Max doesn't seem to be in obvious pain he has stopped eating and can barely get up. Our regular vet doesn't answer the phone on the weekend, so I was getting really worried because we don't want Max to suffer. Luckily -or actually not to lucky because she had to go through it with her dog- a friend of mine recommended "Lap of Love" Veterinary Services. They provide hospice care and end of life services. The appointment is tomorrow.


I talked to my dad yesterday (he had hunting dogs most of his life, and as we always joked, first came the dogs then the rest of the family), and he reminded me that we have to consider ourselves lucky: Almost 13 wonderful years together, and we can make his passing peaceful at home. So, as I'm wiping away the tears, yes, indeed, that is what is important.

I broke my own rule - and sure enough it didn't work as planned

Remy and I journeyed to Northern Michigan this weekend for an eagerly anticipated three days of Long-Reining with a clinician that hails originally from Spain. The clinic was highly recommended by a friend of mine who had organized several clinics with him before.


The trip started out promising with a beautiful drive Up North, through pristine forests and farmlands. Remy is such a good traveler, he even patiently waited while I had to make a pit stop at a rest area. My trusted co-pilot (aka the Navigation system) did a stellar job and got us there in under three hours' drive time. As soon as we pulled up to the stable we were greeted by a nice guy that helped unload and even cleaned the trailer. Off to a good start!


Remy settled into his weekend digs, and a bit later we had our first lesson, starting with putting the tail up correctly. The private lesson introducing us to the art of long reining went well, and I was  excited to learn more in the following days. After Remy was settled for the night I made my way through the country side to the Gould Farm B&B. What a pleasant surprise, a beautiful farm house on top of a hill (think Tara), surrounded by nothing but rolling farm land. Everything turned out even better than advertised, and I immediately liked the owners, Judy and Lynn Gould.


Unfortunately, things didn't go so well the following two days. I found the clinician arrogant and not explaining well which led to a lot of frustrations. He insisted of teaching the Spanish Walk, for which I really had no use. I was there to learn how to work the horse with long reins (or so I thought). I loaned my new, German made, and expensive longing surcingle to a very nice fellow attendee and when the clinician got after her horse rather harshly one of the turrets (standing rings) broke off. He didn't even offer an apology, which I found to be plain rude.


I didn't want to quit and saw it through, but I was more than relieved when Sunday afternoon rolled around. On the bright side, Remy was a good student, never freaked out, and tried his best to understand what he was supposed to do. I met very remarkable people, like the Septuagenarian owner of stable full of QH race horses, one winning more than $10 Million. Charming, sharp like a tick, she had to excuse herself from Sunday's lessons due to lunch with a senator. The conversations with Judy and Lynn at breakfast and in the evening were super interesting also.


The trip home was equally uneventful as going there. Remy stepped off the trailer and was enthusiastically greeted by his friends. JP was (hopefully!) as happy to see me as Chambord was to see Remy.


So, I did break my own rule to NEVER attend a clinic without auditing first - and sure enough, it didn't pan out. I read somewhere the quote "I either win or I learn": So it wasn't a winner but I'll put it under learning experience.


Another lesson learned the hard way: Don't buy imported beer if you don't carry a bottle opener. By Saturday night I was desperate for a drink so I got a bottle of beer at a country store. My desperate attempts to get to the beer netted me a bloody bottle because I smashed my finger attacking the cap with my truck key.


The rule I didn't break: No quitting. I did get to that well deserved liquid gold eventually.

This time Waterloo treated us better than Napoleon -

OK, we weren’t in Belgium and there was no war to be won or lost. But still, what can I say: We won our own personal battle at Dressage at Waterloo Autumn Classic. I had signed up for one day only, trailer in, ride two classes, trailer out: No muss – no fuss.

The show secretary was very accommodating, giving us ride times in the afternoon, 3:05 and 3:44. In the morning JP and I took the boys for a relaxing jaunt through the woods, then loaded up and off we went – me barely keeping my mounting panic under wraps. Luckily it turned out to be a very small show, nice and relaxed, just what we needed. Brandt met us at the showgrounds, primarily to act as moral support and “security blanky” meaning should things go south he could hop on Remy.

Much to my surprise (sometimes I do surprise myself!) I was calm, and after the briefest of warm-ups off we went. It really helped that the judge (a FEI 3* judge no less) seemed very sympa. 2^nd 2 went well, so well in fact that I scrambled to dig out a $10 bill and asked Brandt to hoof it to the show office so I could enter the next class as qualifier for next year’s regional championships. And yes, despite “unfortunate expensive mistakes” (judge’s talk for unauthorized flying changes) in 2^nd3 we did a good job and indeed got our qualifying score. Talk about relief on so many levels!

JP pointed out that my warm-up really was not sufficient, and we could have done even better with more prep. Yep, I know that, but I just wanted to get this thing over with. JP was happy nevertheless (of course, he was happy - he didn’t have to deal with a crying wife and/or out of control horse), and strutted off to collect the blue ribbons and yay, more wine glasses.

So, I guess we were following in the footsteps of famous generals: The Duke of Wellington and General von Bluecher (for non-history buffs: They won the battle of Waterloo in 1815). Better polish that old Coat of Arms!

Mexican pyramids, super rides - and when the name fits...

Last week I was able to combine a business trip to Mexico with a visit to the pyramids of Teotihuacan*. It was just an awe-inspiring experience. I was lucky to travel with the youngest of my sales managers, a fit and always up to adventures guy. Not to brag, but he certainly did not leave me in the dust - or half-way up the pyramid.

On the Pyramid of the Moon, the Pyramid of the Sun is in the background - and yes, I climbed that one, too.

Back home I barely had time to fumble myself back into Remy's saddle and then it was time to ride with Jan. Never a dull moment. Luckily all of Judy's diligent work with us paid off and we had a super lesson. Jan surprised me with asking for flying changes, as in canter half-pass to flying change, and changes on a straight line. We were game! I was super happy with Remy, and it's like something has made click: All of our rides since then have been fun and really good. (Knock on wood!).

I felt so good that I went out on a limb, hiked up those big girl pants all the way, and signed up for the last Waterloo show this year. What the heck, might as well give it a try.

While I was in Mexico JP wasn't idle, he came across a fun Cabrio for sale, an Audi TT. Good deal, now JP has a new (used) toy, and its name hits the nail on the head: "TT" stands in German for "Turnier Trottel". It's the term for the poor schmuck -usually a husband or boyfriend- schlepping all the stuff for rider and horse, patiently helping with grooming, horse holding, fetching, reading tests, etc. etc. Loosely translated you could call it "Show Gofer" (sounds much better than "Show Dummy").

So, my TT now drives a TT - which means I have two TT's!


Note: JP just read the blog and pointed out that he is neither a "Poor Schmuck" nor a "TT" - his is strictly a labor of love - but he'll still keep the TT (car that is).

*Teotihuacan  also written Teotihuacán (Spanish pronunciation: [teotiwa'kan] was an ancient Mesoamerican city located in a sub-valley of the Valley of Mexico, located in the State of Mexico 30 miles (48 km) northeast of modern-day Mexico City, known today as the site of many of the most architecturally significant Mesoamerican pyramids built in the pre-Columbian Americas.

At its zenith, perhaps in the first half of the 1st millennium AD, Teotihuacan was the largest city in the pre-Columbian Americas, with a population estimated at 125,000 or more, making it at least the sixth largest city in the world during its epoch. (Wikipedia)