Don't Should On Me

Have you ever made a mistake with your horses? Or with your dog? Your kid? Your husband?

I mean a big one?

You know what I mean, a colic caused by, sheesh, breathing the wrong way. Or lameness you missed. Or founder because you fed too much or too little. Maybe you had a habit of letting the water run dry. Or went ahead and fed that slightly moldy hay because you didn't have enough money to toss it and the horse picked through the really bad stuff anyway. Maybe you rode the horse really hard when neither of you were in shape for that twenty mile trail.


How many of us have found out too late a dog who lives on a chain becomes aggressive? Or that keeping Max in a crate for twelve hours a day and then through the night is the reason he peed in the middle of your bed, ate the remote and attacked your neighbors dog at the dog park? What about  loose dogs hit by cars, dogs trusted with babies put down when they bit one, dogs we bought on impulse, grow up into out of control maniacs, jump on great-aunt Edna and break her arm?

Even the little mistakes, saddles that caused galls, collars that damaged tracheae, hiring the wrong shoer, trainer, vet, not knowing when our companions were too thin, too fat, to rude, too sore, not knowing what a bit did, or which leash to use...

I know I have. Most of my mistakes came from ignorance. Some came from negligence. I'm not talking acts of cruelty, I'm talking trusting someone else to take care of business when I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that things weren't right.

I have learned, at this point in my life, to be diligent to the point of paranoia. I study, I learn, I think. For the most part, my pets, my livestock and the humans in my life are safe from harm when they are in my care.

The thing is, I made a butt-load of mistakes along the way. Some have come from simple ignorance. I just didn't know. Some have been caused by blindly accepting training tips, riding instruction, feeding and health care advice from people who didn't give me the right information, or only part of the knowledge I needed.

I have some serious sorrow that I live with from some of my mistakes. I also have gratitude for getting away with others. And, because of my very sick sense of humor, I can even laugh at some of the mistakes I've made. There was "The Incident of the Smoking Tortoise," but I digress.

What has never, ever helped me in my sometimes painful education is being Should On.

As a matter of fact, in my fiery youth, when anxiety, anger and stubbornness ruled my thought processes, being told "You should..," or "You should have," would do nothing but piss...me...off.
My brain would slam shut, the guilt and remorse I was already feeling would roar into a fireball of defensiveness, and I would start slinging blame everywhere but at myself.

Being should on made me stick to bad training, insist on using equipment or methods that were not only not working, but potentially harmful, but most of all, being should on caused me to shut out information and advice I desperately needed -- from the people who were shoulding all over me.

"You should have known."

Well, I didn't. Chances are, the mistake has taught me plenty, and I probably should on myself several times already.  Instead of stating THE STINKING OBVIOUS, offering ways to avoid making the mistake again might be a better solution.

"You should have checked your gear."

Duh. I'd rather have you laugh at me. Tell me stories about when you forgot to check your cinch.

"I learned the hard way to make sure all three cinches were cranked down before I went down the fence."

A sentence like that will go a long way towards getting me to say,"I was taught to be able to slip two fingers between my cinch and the horse," and open a discussion.

"You should have seen that coming."

If I had, my dog wouldn't have jumped my friend's dog when they came to visit.

"I read this great book, xxxx, and learned to read my dog's warning signals and body language. Now I can catch him before this goes south. Would you like to borrow it?

So please.

If you don't should in my yard, I won't should in yours.