Nowhere to Hide and Alicia

Nowhere to Hide and Alicia

I am a “heady” person. I was blessed to have a magnificent liberal arts education. There’s a wannabe professor in me. A book worm too. I have always admired and practiced Benjamin Franklin’s decision making process: the Pro and Con list. But the older I have gotten, the more I have learned that I should always, always, ALWAYS listen to my gut.

That’s hard to do in this culture. Why? First, because we revere brainiacs—Ivy Leaguers, alphabets trailing a last name (Ph.D, M.D, C.P.A., C.E.O, C.F.O, C.O.O…), smarty pants who invent things, control things, and who, as a result, make tons of money. Second, because we are in always in a hurry, always distracted. We scarcely have time to think straight with the brain that sits upon our shoulders, let alone take stock with our intuition. Third, we tend to belittle the gut—that site of indigestion, flatulence, and lust, that beloved anatomical area of woo-woo queens, psychics, and religious fanatics. C’MON MAN!

I’ll admit, in my youth, I often gave my gut short shrift when compared to my gray matter. The legal cap Pro and Con list was my go-to strategy for decisions. Not that my gut didn’t rumble. It did, but I definitely viewed it as trailer trash talk. Big mistake!  The head alone never set a true course. Indeed, my best decisions were the ones where I let my gut influence my brain—like leaving my job at Random House thirty plus years ago borrowing a car, and driving down the east coast, stopping randomly at horse farms in multiple states, until I found a job with horses in Kentucky.

That is why when I interviewed Alicia over Face Time this past spring as a potential summer intern and my gut endorsed her, I had to say “yes.” My head was not pleased. Alicia had submitted a decent application. She had good references, one of whom I knew. But I knew when I started talking to her, that she she was atypical.  Her demeanor was bizarrely static yet dramatically intense. I felt her unwavering trenchant stare piercing the computer screen. When I asked her questions, she began by blurting things out, then dove into conversation, rarely coming up for air. It didn’t take a M.D. degree to realize that she was very A.D.H.D. In a matter of minutes, in fact, she told me that of her own accord.

I asked her why she wanted to come to the MMSC. She lived many states away. She would have to find accommodations. Our internships were unpaid. 

“I want to come because I love horses. I have a hard time learning.  I am a crack baby and was put up for adoption. People have made fun and rejected me all of my life. But I have repeatedly been given second chances, by my adoptive family, by my schools, by my riding teachers. I want to give back to horses like those at your Center who need a second chance, too.”

Right then and there, my gut screamed:  “ACCEPT HER!”

“But, but, but….,” my brain whined, “you are not a licensed health professional! OTTBs can be unpredictable! Can you keep Alicia safe? Will she be accepted by the other interns? How much of your precious time will she take?”

“We look forward to having you as one of our interns this summer, Alicia,” I declared. 

She broke into the biggest, beaming smile that dazzled me like sunlight on fresh snow! I wasn’t sure how things would turn out, but I knew it would be an intriguing journey.

Starting in June, summer interns from high school to college age, from Kentucky and several other states arrived at the MMSC.  They were an eager rambunctious lot, like five week old puppies, full of play, and in need of instruction. 

“I am a very fun person,” I told the girls at the onset, “but I am DRACONIAN about certain things.

I was met with blank stares, except for Lydia, a recent high school graduate from Louisiana.

“What does draconian mean, ladies?”

“I know! I know!  Strict!!!”

“Excellent, Lydia. Yes, strict, harsh, relentless—a word that comes from the Athenian law scribe Draco, I suggest you google him-I warn you ladies, there will be a word of the day, every day when I see that you have no idea of what I have just said. I expect you to look them up, learn them, and use them correctly. You will be quizzed.”

“Now,” I continued. “Here is what you must know about this summer: Number one, you are a team. Work together, help one another. If you are finished with a chore, assist someone else. I abhor idle hands. Cell phones and texting are not allowed. Negativity and whining are unacceptable. The work is hard, yes, But it is a privilege to work at the MMSC. These horses have given of themselves as they can for the pleasure of human beings. Caring for them is an honor and a service, and a special gift that you give to them. If you have a problem, don’t gripe about it amongst yourself, come to me. I will set it or you straight. Each of you will be assigned or will be drawn to a particular horse. That is the one you will tend to. Together I will explain to you its needs and help you work through its issues. Questions?”

Alicia, of course, chose Noah. 

“I love his conformation!,” she told me. “He is the perfect example of what a Thoroughbred should look like! And….OH!  what a keen eye! What an amazing demeanor he has. He is so special!”

Oh, dear, yes, Noah was special! He was also my most deeply committed enthusiastically “racetrack-y,” horse in the barn! The one that had extensive physical and mental baggage!  For Alicia!? Alicia who has a very hard time staying focused? Alicia who can be utterly oblivious to the world around her when she is on a trajectory of thought or speech?

“YUP!,” said my gut. 

So Alicia was assigned to Noah. She oversaw his care, his treatments, and, yes, after I had watched her ride some of our quieter horses, his training.  

I spoke to our head rider Carolyn.  

“I want you to make time in your day to give riding lessons to Alicia and Noah.”

“You are kidding!  Alicia and Noah!!!? But he is such a confirmed racehorse!!!”

“No. I am not kidding. Alicia and Noah. They could be really good for each other. Arena riding only. Walk trot only. Be patient with them both. Teach them to slow down. I am counting on you to keep them safe.  And don’t worry, I’ll be keeping an eye on all three of you.”

And watch them I did, from the barn, from the conference room, from the side of the arena. The more I watched, the more I knew my gut was right. 

One day, I came into to the small MMSC kitchen whilst several of the interns were having lunch. 

“WHAT are you all eating???!!!” I asked, appalled. Their plates were littered with heaps of calorie/carbohydrate/chemical concoctions. I fished the boxes and cans out of the trash, handing them to the respective owners, and said, “please read aloud the ingredients.”

All of the meals had high fructose corn syrup near the top of the list, followed by multiple syllabic unpronounceable words, and a list of numbered additives. I peeked into their lunch boxes.  Alicia’s was by far, the worst. She had fodder for herself, and because she is good hearted and generous, enough for all the other interns and then some.

“Ladies,” I said.  “Do you see how hard we are all working to make our horses healthy, to cleanse them of all that has beleaguered them during their track days? From stress, to legal and maybe illegal drugs, changing hays and feeds, supplements, different riding styles, and the like.”

Quiet nods.

“You see the difference we are making?  You understand the importance of nutrition for well being. Why, oh why, then would you not treat your body with the same respect?”

“I don’t how to cook.”

“I don’t know what to buy.”

“I don’t have time to eat healthy.”

“Ladies, you will each bring in tomorrow a list of everything you eat at every meal over the course of a week. I will review this with you, and will show how you can still eat what you want but be healthy.”

And they did. And no student was more enthusiastic about my draconian measures than Alicia. She let me throw out her packages of cookies, candies, and sugar laden energy bars. She went to the health food store and bought organic meals and read me the ingredients on a daily basis with pride. She was so grateful for all my suggestions and instructions. She worked ceaselessly. She always was smiling. As the weeks passed, she interrupted less. She listened more. When she first came, she tended to tell “woe-is-me” stories about herself, as if her challenges somehow entitled her to a lesser standard of behavior.

“Alicia, stop giving your challenges prime time. We all have setbacks and problems in life. It’s the attitude and grace in how you deal with them that makes you memorable. Look at Noah. He’s a horse that has known adversity. But has he EVER stopped trying to serve, to please, to give his very best?”

“No,” Alicia answered, in a quiet and thoughtful voice.

When Carolyn wasn’t working with Alicia and Noah, I did. I explained that if she couldn’t maintain focus, if she couldn’t be a worthy leader Noah would take over and do the one thing he knew he did well: RACE. 

“Horses are hierarchical, Alicia. That means that the herd is based on a ladder of respect. You must learn to control your thoughts and emotions for the benefit of your horse.” Before long she was cantering and popping Noah over cross rails and he stayed calm. By summer’s end she was walking, troting, and cantering him in an open field.  What an amazing accomplishment! She had worked really hard, and done so with ceaseless enthusiasm. She had given her all to Noah and to me, and we both were better for it.

I had one more thing I wanted Alicia to learn from Noah before summer’s end. When she came to the MMSC, it was clear she didn’t think much about her appearance. Her clothes were utilitarian and formless. She wore no jewelry or makeup. She sported a baseball cap worn backwards. She wasn’t alone. All my interns were lackadaisical about their attire.

“Ladies,” I addressed the girls one day. “You all know that RESPECT is one of my five principles of horsemanship. You have all worked very hard on a daily basis to tend to every need of your horses. I commend you for this. But like many, many horse women, myself included, you tend to neglect to care for yourselves. You hair becomes a nest of tangles and hay by day’s end. Your shirts get streaked with mud, sweat, and green horse slobber. Your fingernails get blackened and broken. As the summer has gone on and each of you has gotten progressively more weary, I have noticed that you have spent less and less time on how you look at work.

“Now, in my opinion, our society puts too much emphasis on appearance  as well as revolting amount of focus on sexuality. I understand the desire to reject those messages. But the truth is, if you want to take part in the game of life, you have to learn the rules, and play by them. That way, when you chose to participate in the game, whether that means job hunting, or getting a loan, or making a presentation, you have a chance of winning. Think of it like readying your horse for a horse show. You don’t mind bathing and braiding it, cleaning your tack and your boots, right? You do that to get the upper hand on your competition. You do it because it makes you feel proud. Right?

“That is why next week, we are going to have a “class”at the mall. This means lunch, makeup, and pedicures- manicures. Please show up dressed smartly. Last but not least, I will expect a thank you note from each of you afterwards, not an email, but a handwritten one, because a handwritten thank you note is a gesture of respect that will take you far in life.” 

Alicia, second from the right was part of the marvelous group of Summer 2014 interns!

Alicia learned the joys of a pedicure!

It was a great day. And I cherish the thank you notes, Alicia’s in particular. It made me choke up.

I called Alicia recently to see how her fall semester was progressing and to ask her if she minded if I told her story in this blog entry.

“Everything is great!  I moved up from the Walk/Trot group to the Walk/Trot/Canter group on my equestrian team! I don’t mind if you tell my story at all. I had a great summer.  

“And what did you learn from Noah?”

“I loved Noah,” she said. “I wish I could have adopted him. He taught me a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Oh tons! I learned that you can have a wild and crazy side—after all he did- I do too—my A.D.H.D, makes me crazy, but in spite of that you can teach yourself to be calm and focused. Noah taught me to be relaxed on a horse. Noah taught me to push through adversity. Noah taught me to trust. Because I came to trust him, I learned to trust myself.”

“How about respect, Alicia?  Did he teach you anything there?”

“Oh yes!”He taught me to respect my emotions. He taught me to respect myself. He taught me to address my needs, “ she laughed her big sunshiny laugh and added,

“You would be so proud of me, Susanna! The other day I was looking at my toe nails and I thought, ‘I would NEVER let Noah’s toe nails look like this!’ So I cleaned them up and painted them!!!”

Oh Noah! You special, special horse! Thank you for all that you taught Alicia. Thank you, Alicia. for all that you taught me. And thank you, gut, for being my ever true inner compass. You always steer me right!

Cheery bye,

Susanna

Nowhere to Hide: A Project

Nowhere to Hide

A special horse

Nowhere To Hide arrived at the MMSC in February

From the very first, I knew Noah would be a project. Given that off the track racehorses are a dime a dozen these days, my decision to take him may have seemed profligate. But I am committed to helping Thoroughbreds that can be ambassadors for the breed in any equestrian sport at any level. All racehorses need some reschooling and some physical therapy. At the MMSC horses receive both. No doubt I could adopt out a lot more horses if I didn’t invest the time to heal them physically and emotionally. Nor does my ethos of transparency make for quick “flips.” But so much of all that is good in my life has come about because of horses, I feel called to be their defender and champion whilst they are in my care.

In the long run, however, taking Noah on made “cents.” He was a lovely horse. He was service and people oriented. He had the support of his former owners. Yes, the expenses of rehab and reschooling would add up over the six to nine months it might take to ready him for a new career and home. But at eight years old, he was still a relatively young horse. He could live another twenty years or more. To retire him for life might cost, conservatively between five and seven grand annually. That could be $100,000 to $140,000 of accumulated costs for one retired horse! The argument that five to six thousand dollars spent now with the hope that this expenditure would get him off the pay roll and happily placed in a new home with a different job, seemed fiscally sound. I am very lucky that Noah’s owners agreed with me. I wish there were more owners who would support reschooling efforts not just because it is a noble thing to do, but because it is ultimately cost effective. And it would foster a treasure trove of popular good will, undermining the sensationalist value of druggie/neglect/slaughterhouse tales that threaten to ultimately alienate popular interest in racing. 

Besides most Thoroughbreds enjoy work. 

Noah certainly did. He liked to train. He loved to run. And he did so successfully for a long time. It made sense to me that he might thrive in a new career. 

It was a chilly, gray day in February when Noah arrived at the MMSC. Ribby, shaggy, and dull coated, he was, but his eyes shone with eagerness and kindness. It was touching. I didn’t know what the next few months would bring, but I was certain that this horse was special.

The first task was to address his physical state and assess his soundness. I called Dr. True and asked him to evaluate Noah with flexions and X-rays. I wanted fecal count and CBC (complete blood count) baselines.  I called our feed specialist from Nutrena, Rob Martin and asked him to give an opinion on Noah’s weight and condition and to recommend a feeding/supplement protocol. Appointments with the dentist, the farrier and the equine chiropractor/acupuncturist were scheduled.

None of the reports were earth shattering: Noah had been severely stressed and he needed time and TLC to bring him around. I had worried most about what the flexions and the x-rays would reveal. They too, held no big surprises. A few inconsequential chips in ankles, sore hocks, uneven on the right hind. Given the amount and intensity of his racing, his joints were surprisingly clean.

“Go on with him, Susanna.” Dr. True said. “He’ll tell you want he can and cannot do.” 

The chiropractor adjusted his poll, his neck, his withers, back and pelvis, and released the strain of lots of constricted muscles. “He has a spleen deficiency,” she added after finishing his acupuncture treatment. “That’s why his coat is so dull.” She prescribed Chinese herbs and put him on her schedule for regular check ups throughout the spring.

Within two months, Noah started to regain his muscle and his condition.

Within two months, Noah started coming around physically. His coat started to shed out and a silky undercoat appeared. His belly started to slim down and tuck up. His flanks and neck showed outlines of musculature in the making. I worried that he couldn’t seem to hold adjustments in his pelvis, that he was somewhat peg-legged in the left stifle. But he seemed happy.

I asked the interns to give him regular laser treatments. I asked his owner to rent him a magnetic blanket. We have a wonderful volunteer who donates her reiki services to the MMSC. She worked on Noah. Dr. True injected his hocks. We added Lubrysin to the joint supplement he was already getting.

We also worked him. From the first snowy morning in early March when we took him out to do natural horsemanship and bomb proofing, Noah was an exemplary student: Willing, smart, level headed. The one problem that we had with Noah was that he tried TOO HARD.  He was the kind of horse that would run on three legs if you asked him. When he first arrived at the MMSC, I thought he would make a lovely “little old lady’s horse.” It was apparent after the first week of riding him that Noah only wanted to do what he did well—
R A C E.  He wasn’t hot by temperament. He was a, noble minded, well mannered,  warrior-athlete. You had to love a horse like Noah.

And loved he was! Nick Zito trained Noah in his early years, and when Zito’s son Alex came to the Horse Park this May to help his mother put on a Thoroughbred Show, Alex made a point of coming up to the MMSC with his wife to see Noah.

“I always really, really liked Nowhere to Hide," Alex said. “He had a great personality. He always tried. The fact that he ran in the Kentucky Derby is pretty wonderful too. He just was a very special horse. I am glad he is here at the MMSC.”

Mr. and Mrs. Alex Zito came to visit old time favorite, Nowhere to Hide in May.

A month earlier, Noah’s former exercise rider had uttered almost identical words. “As an older horse, No Where to Hide moved from Nick Zito’s barn to my boss’ barn, where I am Assistant Trainer,” said Stuart. “He had a really big heart and a great personality. He was tricky to exercise because he always tried too hard. We would do two or three mile trot sets  and gallops the wrong way around the track to keep him fit. That’s because when you galloped him the right way, he was REAL strong. He’d give you his all. He was willing to run every time he set foot on the track.”

“Not only that he was just such a level headed and kind horse to be around. You never had to worry with him. He’d take care of you. You could always trust him which is more than you can say for many of the horses, especially the older ones! Everyone in the barn loved him. You couldn’t not love him. I know you can lose horses in claimers and therefore I try not to get too attached to them, but when No Where To Hide got claimed in an optional allowance-claiming race. I was really, really angry. I came back to the barn and cried.”

“I couldn’t talk to anyone. My boss knew how upset I was and he assured me that the owners would claim him back. I tried to keep up with him as I could and when one day I didn’t see him showing up on any tracks, I asked the racing manager if he knew what had happened to him. I was told that the owners had gone after him and that he was at the Secretariat Center. As soon as I could, I had to come seehim again.”

I walked Stuart and his wife to Noah’s stall. “Here he is.”  I stood back as Stuart slipped through the door.

“Hey Grandpa,” he said, his voice soft and warm, his eyes moist.

Noah pricked his ears, stepped up to him and pushed him gently with his nose.

“You’ve had a hard time, haven’t you Old Man,” Stuart said as he stroked Noah’s neck and kissed him on the cheek.

Noah laid his head on Stuart’s chest as if saying,”Nah, I’m ok, Stu! No worries!” 

“Why don’t you adopt Noah, Stuart?"

Stuart wished he could but he felt that his nomadic life made it impossible.  “I know you’ll take care of him, Susanna.  You’ll find him a good home…right?”

“Yes, Stuart, I will take care of him. And I promise I will let you know when Noah finds his person. And beyond that, I will put you in touch with that person, so you two can be friends and you can go visit Noah in his new home.”

By the time June rolled around, Noah was starting to look respectable. He wasn’t 100 percent sound yet. And he still bolted when cantering to the left in the ring. Trail rides could be hairy—lots of enthusiastic head tossing and jigging sideways or a racy trot threatening a potent outburst of canter at any subsequent moment. Definitely not an old lady or even a gutsy kid horse yet! Noah knew and only wanted to be one thing: A racehorse. And not just  any old racehorse. A warrior/athlete racehorse. A fight to win/do so until your body breaks or your heart bursts racehorse. Push through pain. Make it happen. I don’t know if that could ever be completely trained out of him or if you would even want to.

So who would be the right person for this special horse, the original owners', Alex’s, Stuart’s and MY special horse? And when, if ever would that person appear?

All I could do was wait, hope, and keep the faith. Loving Noah was the easy part.

Cheery bye,
Susanna

Nowhere to Hide: A Special Horse

LOVE: The Greatest of All      

Nowhere To Hide

There is always one. One special horse, every year, that captures my heart.  Of course, I love all horses of all breeds. And every horse that I have chosen as a MMSC candidate, I care about, and will commit unwaveringly to find it a new job and home. But there is always one that makes me smile whenever I see it; one I can spend time with quietly that restores me when I need sustenance; one that I am tempted to bring home to add to my band. 

There is no rhyme or reason to which horse will turn out to be “Susanna’s favorite.” Over my years at the MMSC, I have fallen for a sprite, a crusader, a diva, and a Confederate. There’s been an Iron Lady and a cynic too. No jocks, though. I like jocks, but I have never been in love with one, yet. 

I had already looked at a bunch of horses when Nowhere to Hide was led out of the barn on a cold day this February.  

“This one ran in the Kentucky Derby!,” the farm manager proudly announced.  

“Ah yes,” I mumbled as I looked at the eight year old gelding its groom was standing up before me. Clearly it had been a while since he had been in Kentucky Derby shape. This was a non-descript 16 hand bay. Shaggy coated. Unkempt mane. Under weight. With rain rot.  

“Tell me about him?”

“He is by Vindicaton who is by Seattle Slew out of  a Seeking the Gold mare.  His owners bought him for $250,000 at the Keeneland yearling sale. He was a good racehorse. Made over $200k. Ran in the Derby in 2009 when Mine that Bird won. He got claimed, much to the owners’ distress.  They went after him and claimed him back and brought him here to retire.”

“Any injuries?”

“In 2010 he suffered a tibia fracture which he had surgery on. He had a tie back operation too. But he had a full recovery and was straight forward to train after that.”

I went over to the gelding and stroked him gently on the neck.  “Hello, you,” I said, edging around in front of him. I looked him up and down. Offset. Slightly knobby ankles. Chips maybe? Decent chest. Then I swept his forelock back.

He looked at me with the most magnanimous hopeful eyes I may have ever seen in a horse.

I knew right then and there despite his condition caused by his claiming experiences and exacerbated by let down during a Polar Vortex winter, he had to come to the MMSC. It didn’t matter when his groom trotted him that his pelvis was sub-luxated, his shoulders were locked and his hocks were sore. He was also stiff, very stiff all over. And his stride was uneven on the right hind. Not surprising for an athlete of his caliber.

I stood back and took a good look. I saw expense dollar signs written all over him.

“I am sure he could make someone happy,” the farm manager said.

“Could be…”

Noah turned his head and locked me in his gaze.

“I’ll take him,” I heard myself say. “But I want to talk to the owners.  This one is going to take time.”

When I talked to the owners I told them that No Where to Hide was a special horse.

“But it is obvious that he has had a hard time after he was claimed from you. The harsh winter has set him back too. He is going to need a program of intensive care: special feed, supplements, alternative therapies, and training. And it is going to take six to eight months to straighten him out. The costs will add up. And there is no certainty that the horse will ever be fully sound.”

The owner explained to me that he should never have been claimed, that they were glad to get him back. He had earned a retirement. Did I think he could be ridden again?

“I never would not have agreed to take him if I didn’t think he had a chance. He is stiff and uneven and in less than ideal condition. We can fix those things. He looks like a horse that would be happier with a person and a job, if we can get him sound enough. But it is going to take time, and I will need your help covering his treatments and supplements.”

“I’d be happy to do that!,” she said.  “I love this horse and he deserves the best!”

Noah arrived at the MMSC in late February.

“I promise you that I will keep you informed every step of the way as to whether he can have a second career or not. I’m going to start this week with a vet exam and a round of X-rays. I’ll let you know what we find and how I think we should proceed based on that.”

“That sounds perfect!”

Ah me! What exemplary owners! Owners who breed and race for the love of the horse, not just for the thrill, entertainment, and spotlight of the sport.  Owners who take care of their horses once their racing days are over. Yes, I know that it is expensive to do this. But it is the morally right thing to do for the horse. 

We turn our heads and say that we can’t make a difference individually. But a cistern is filled one drop at a time. Collectively we can make a difference. We shouldn’t pretend this isn’t a problem. Thank goodness people are joining the aftercare effort every day. Hooray for the industry efforts!  But there is still much to be done and sometimes the challenge seems overwhelming.

I know. My demons tell me that I am kidding myself to think that the handful of horses I take in and rehome each year is important. They tell me that the never ending battles of raising money, or the efforts to raise awareness about the issue and to educate people about the value and versatility of the off track Thoroughbred in new careers are wastes of time. I should be a better mother, a better wife, a better friend, a better citizen. Stupid me.

But then, there is always that special horse. The one I seek out during the day no matter what I am doing because it gives me peace beyond understanding. The one that inspires me to be of service to something greater than mere day to day human life. The one that fills me  with that most powerful force of all: Love. 

And this year, that horse is Nowhere to Hide. And in the next few blog entries I am going to tell you Noah’s story. It’s one that amazes and uplifts me. From beginning to end, it’s a tale and a labor of love. It’s the reason why reschooling Thoroughbreds is such a joy and a privilege to do.

Cheery bye,

Susanna

Photo Album: Sips ’N Saddles #2

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Being an aficionado of the written and spoken word, I beg, sometimes to differ. But when it comes to Sips ’N Saddles #2 it would take many pages to describe this special night, and there simply are no words for the gratitude I have for every guest, sponsor, volunteer, board member, and staff member who came to the party. Thank you all for showing your appreciation of the magnificent Thoroughbred and for your support of the MMSC!

Cheery bye, 

Susanna     

A big THANK YOU to
our sponsor and namesake
Maker’s Mark!

Guests were greeted at the door by valet service and servers with 
Kentucky “champagne”-
Maker’s Mark and sparkling cider.

Delicious sweets (bourbon balls galore!)
and fine Kentucky fare
from Holly Hill Inn 

   

Kentucky Bluegrass band NEWTOWN

KENNY’S CHEESES!

                    

See you at Sips ’N Saddles 2015!