Showing Shorty

All together now….What season is it?



Silly people, everyone knows it’s horse show season.

April through June, and maybe a smidge into July. Saturdays are reserved first and foremost for showing Shorty.

And let’s be perfectly clear about something. Horse shows are the most boring event known to humanity. Except maybe golf. And except when Cowgirl is the one in the arena, then everyone needs to stop and watch in total awe of my kid.

Hey! You there! I said EVERYONE STOP AND STARE AT MY KID!!!!!!!!!!

Remember Shorty? He’s the 15 year old ropin’ horse that we acquired on a modest budget a couple of years ago so Cowgirl could go a little faster than her then 24 year old Buddy would take her.

Shorty is the equivalent of a standard transmission with a stiff clutch and no power steering. (Be patient. I gave you lots of lead in time on this one. She’s coming….in a minute.)


(Apparently the camera woman has some power steering issues of her own. Might have had something to do with the little kid saying, “Help. Someone grab my horse before he gets away!” Sorry kid. No can do. I’m videoing Cowgirl. Catch your own horse. Oh, alright. Here’s your horse.)

Cowgirl has taught Shorty so much in the less than two years we’ve owned him. He’s been good to her in return. They both get moody at times. Sometimes it happens to be on show day.

This year is proving to be a good one in the arena. Shorty is a beautiful gelding with a gorgeous main and tail. When we acquired Shorty, Cowgirl could not for the life of her get that four legged beast to put those legs in a nice perfect rectangle. Now she tugs on and rattles his halter chain a bit and he lines those feet up like Cyndie Crawford lines up her high-heel-elevated-million-dollar-insured legs.


Yesterday Cowgirl made it more than perfectly clear that she had no intention of showing Shorty in Western Pleasure or Horsemanship. He just doesn’t have enough arena manners to play well with the others.

“I’ll walk, or I’ll lope, but don’t keep switching my gears and for heaven’s sake, don’t ask me to lope slow.” That’s what Shorty says.

Cowgirl says, “Don’t put me in an arena when I don’t have a snowballs chance in hell of even making the top 10.”

Fine. Saves me $12 and a lot of pouty-mooded Cowgirl.

Cowgirl would be perfectly happy if we’d just leave her alone to ride speed.

Then there’d be  no waking up at 6 AM to load and leave.

Then there’d be no need to sticky glue the hair down.

Then there’d be no need to see Mom wearing stupid flourescent rain pants to the wash rack.

“Mom, you look stupid.”

“Thank you. It’s my mission in life to totally embarrass my children. Besides, I have a condition called cold-and-wet-a-phobia.”

Okay. I might have been a smidge embarrassed. Even the adults were laughing at me. I think they were just jealous of my cool fluorescent yellow rain pants.

Yes, Cowgirl would be perfectly happy if we would just let her sleep late and then drag Shorty to the show in time for her to race in the speed events.


Of course, now she has decided she needs a newer model than Shorty. I guess she figures if she can trade up for one ten years younger every two years, she’s due for a four year old this time.


I’ve got a surprise for her.

It probably isn’t gonna happen.

Just like she probably won’t see that new F250 Double Cab pickup in our driveway this year, nor is she gonna see that fancy new living quarters trailer tied to the bumper anytime soon.

For now, it’s just me and her, Shorty, a 94 suburban, and a tiny two horse straight load trailer driving 60 down the interstate.

It’s a character-building experience….for both of us.

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