Too Pooped to Pop

It seems Sandy has spent too much time with the sheep
as he appears to have learned to chew his cud.

Sandy and I made a lot of progress in an hour's time yesterday. He worked up quite a lather, but each time he decided to move away from me rather than stand nicely, Ken had advised me to work him hard so that he'd realize it was easier to stand next to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I already knew that, but I'd stopped doing it for things like lifting feet. Another thing Ken had suggested was making Sandy drop his nose to the ground for me, then leaving it there until I told him he could lift it (but not longer than he could handle doing at first, just a few seconds at a time.)


So armed with that, I set about my work yesterday afternoon. Sandy worked up a sweat in no time flat. Each time I approached he'd stand, then start shifting and moving away. Rather than sweet talk him into standing, I sent him away and made him work. Before long I was able to reach all the way under his belly as though saddling him. He was dropping his head like a pro, and even lifting both front feet for me.


With that, I called it a day. He'd come further in that hour than he has in three weeks. Well, aside from the saddling.


Today I barely spent any time with him. I've been down at Curt's each day helping him clean stalls. This past weekend a colt threw him hard right into the wall. The man's in pain. So I've been nice. But of course, not without a personal motive.


"Curt, now that there are a few empty stalls...well...maybe we should fill one of them?"


"Something tells me this may be a mustang deal."


"Maybe..."


"Let me think about it some, Trace." Curt's not real keen on seeing me get hurt. I think I make him nervous. I told him that I was safer down there with him than up here in the rain.


His thinking was done today and when he's home from this weekend's cutting in Ellensburg I'll be moving Sandy down to his new digs!