Horse Stories/Sonita/Chapter3

The idea behind scar massage is to stop the newly formed scar tissue from attaching to the muscle beneath it. Scar tissue is very delicate, the skin around it even more so. Gentle, stimulating massage will keep it flat, and help prevent a big, tight, gnarly mess from forming.
It also feels great.
Sonita would be lulled into a doze when I worked on her leg. For half an hour every morning, I would sit on a bucket, rub a gob of Eucerin hand cream around the wound, and go to work. She would stand with her nose resting on my shoulders, hip cocked, and grunt with pleasure. Every now and then she would flip my hat off my head.
I'd pick it up, whack her with it, and put it back on.
"Nobody messes with my King Rope cap." I told her.
Sonita would toss her head and roll her eyes, but nothing would convince her to step away from that massage.
The rest of the day Sonita dedicated to raising hell.
She had decided the barn was a good place to be. She liked it inside. She also decided that the horse on either side of her needed to stay out.
She would lunge at the bars separating the stalls, teeth bared. She would squeal and spin around in circles, sending shavings flying.
She began to kick the walls.
Leg or no leg, Sonita began training.
We had a wonderful tie wall in our indoor. It was solid with heavy, oiled wood planking, and reached up seven feet. A sturdy ring was bolted in about six feet up, every ten feet or so. The horses couldn't get hurt. They couldn't reach each other. They couldn't chew. It was a beautiful, patience training machine.
I would start each morning tying out my first three or four horses of the day. It's a habit I still maintain.
I would ride through them, and return them to the wall. When I finished, I would put them up, get my next set, and so on.
If I had a horse being fractious on the wall, they would stay tied until they relaxed, and I would put them up.
Being a baby, Sonita's only job was to stand tied.
I would longe her a bit, get most of the stink off her, and then tie her.
I keep a close watch on my babies. All they have to do is stand quiet for maybe five minutes, and I put them up.
Sonita stayed on the wall for hours.
She would fuss, and buck in place. She would strike at the wall repeatedly. She would whinny and holler at the other horses as they came and went.
As I led them up, she would pin her ears, squeal, and strike.
She would sweat buckets. She never seemed to tire.
If she did by chance stay quiet, for even a minute, I would get her and put her up.
As soon as I put her in her run she would start her whirling dervish routine.
"She's a busy little girl." The Chief said.
"I know, I hate this." I replied. "A two year old has no business being tied all day. She really should be out in the pens."
"We can't go there, she'll be jumping her way to Teller County."
"She seems even wilder when I put her up."
"Have you tried keeping her with you?"
"I don't want her tied all the time Chief, she'll go nuts."
"Go nuts?" The Chief always looked like he was about to burst out laughing when he talked about Sonita. "I'd say we're there."
"Why don't you put her in one of the holding pens?"
At the end of our arena we had two small pens made out of panels.
"Don't you think she'll jump?" I swung a nervous look at the pens. They didn't look sturdy enough. Or high enough.
"Give it a try." The Chief encouraged. "Panels are easier to replace than my barn walls."
I got a bucket of water, a little hay, and put them in the pen nearest the door
As soon as Sonita quit squirreling on the wall long enough to take a breather, I put her in the pen.
She spun around once, looked out the door, looked at us, and quietly went to munching her lunch.
It was the most peaceful I had seen her since she came to the barn.
"She just wants a little company." The Chief said. "She's lonely in her run."
Smart guy, the Chief.
Sonita began teaching me the fine art of compromise.
If she stood quiet for a few minutes, I would put her in her pen. She would happily spend the day watching me work.
Slowly, she learned to stand for longer periods of time.
I started to saddle her. The promise of spending her day lazing in her pen made the process fairly painless.
I worried about exercise. I was afraid I would slow down her healing.
I also realized that working her in the arena was a lot less stressful than exploding and charging around her stall.
I added some turn out in the arena after I massaged her leg.
I was studying John Lyons, Ray Hunt, and Monty Roberts pretty intensely at this point in my life.
I began playing with her loose in the arena.
She was the smartest horse I had met in years. I worked on my body language and hers. How do I move her away? How do I get her to come?
Sonita seemed to get into it as much as I was.
She learned to circle me at a lope. Sonita was never much into the slower gaits. She moved sound and sure with only a slight shortening of her stride. Her bad leg seemed to be healing well.
I had her working round at the end of the arena. No round pen here folks. Just me and my girl. She was impressing me more every day.
She learned to come when I called so fast, and so hard, that I decided my horses should learn to wait for me to come to them instead.
Sonita would come flying at me with those wild eyes, pinned ears, and flashing front legs, at roughly 1000 MPH. I realized she was only doing what I asked , but that chicken mu shu kept flashing before my eyes.
To this day, all my horses stop at least ten feet from me and wait until I walk to them. "Join Up" my butt.
Sonita was an enthusiast. I started teaching her to move her nose away from my finger when I tapped her muzzle.
At this point she wanted to stay with me once I stood by her shoulder. She would swing away from my tapping finger, but only a step or two.
I followed her nose, she kept stepping.
Pretty soon, I was jogging around the outside of our circle, and she was executing a perfect, inside hind planted, spin.
If I went the other way, she would follow.
This would also unleash her inner Doberman. She would flatten those ears, lower her head, and fly after me. I would run like hell around that circle.
It only took a turn or two before I would be laughing too hard to run any more.
We'd stop, she'd snort, and ask for a pet. It was the coolest thing I'd ever taught a horse to do.
When I look at in in retrospect, I realize she was the one in the middle, and I was the one running around in the circle.
I'm not entirely sure who was training who. Sonita, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on.
At that point in my career I couldn't train a horse to spin like Sonita was if my life depended on it.
I had more horse than I had ever come across. I was hooked. I just needed to figure out what in the world I was going to do with her.