Things Are Changing

And change scares the crap out of me. I haven't updated recently because I've been afraid I couldn't keep my mouth shut, but the cat is out of the bag and here it is: The barn where I board and work is under contract to a new owner. The BO is ready to retire, and if this contract goes through, we will be under new management by September. Lawyers, real estate agents, and horse people know nothing is a done deal until the papers are signed and money changes hands, so right now this doesn't feel real and hasn't sunken in yet. Luckily for me, the guy who wants the place is a very nice guy and doesn't want to change anything. That means that I still have a job and things will run much the same as they have under BO's management. Scary for me, is the guy is not a horseperson and will be heavily depending on the experience of my coworker and me to run the place. I guess I will be growing up very quickly here pretty soon! It will be my responsibility to keep the books, keep the hay, feed, and shavings ordered, schedule dewormings/vaccs/farrier etc, and deal with all the politics it is currently my joy to leave to BO, since she and her husband are so much less socially awkward with people. I am both nervous and excited about the responsibility, and saddened to see two people I count as family go.

This possible huge change has had me thinking about my job the past few days. I never did have any enthusiasm for going to college; I had no idea what path I could possibly take through school that would lead me to a life I could enjoy waking up to every day. And when this job fell into my lap, I realized that although my life is small and humble,  I'm never going to change the world caring for my little stable of children, and there are many very educated people who may look down on the occupation I chose, I cannot regret the path my life has taken. Every day is not perfect; some days I come home upset, and every day I come home tired. Caring for a stable full of show horses is not easy. I often wonder how many miles a day I walk, how many cumulative pounds a day I lift and carry, et cetera. But this is what I wanted to do my whole life. Maybe spending every morning mucking stalls isn't exactly what my nine year-old brain imagined, but for a little girl who never got to ride until high school, this is still a dream come true.

There are the days that I cannot help loving my job. When you work with animals, sometimes the weirdest, most random shit happens during your day. We have had the neighbors cows break through the fence, and spent the morning herding renegade cattle. I have made a fool out of myself chasing after an injured bird for my vet to take home and rehab. (Not to mention the occasion when my coworker and I were trudging up the hill in the morning and came across a chicken hawk with an injured wing, and he shrugged nonchalantly and stuffed the poor thing in his pocket and carried on with bringing the horses in like there wasn't a bird with inch long talons in his sweater.) (I took the bird home that afternoon and a rescue collected him, so no worries! They released him a couple weeks later.)  I also literally treed that same coworker several years ago; he had used a ladder to climb to a dying limb on one of the two large oaks in the barnyard so he could saw it off and thus prevent it from deciding to fall on an unsuspecting pedestrian. He quickly realized that he couldn't use the chainsaw until the ladder was out of the way. We are talking one of those large extendable ladders. The limb was about twenty feet off the ground. Being puny and midgety as I am, there was no question of me simply shifting the ladder off to the side, so he told me to just knock it over, and then he made quick work of the branch. When he was done, I casually said, "Hey Ricardo?" and he answered, "Yah?" And I asked, "How are you going to get down?" To which he could only say, "...ooohhhhhh..." I can only imagine the look on my out-of-town boss's face when I called and innocently asked if we had any long lengths of rope, as Ricardo was stuck in a tree and could not get down. BO's husband asked if I couldn't just drive the tractor under him, raise the bucket as high as it would go, and let him drop into it. Ricardo was not fond of that idea, and instead had me throw him his phone so he could call a buddy to put the ladder back up for him. It was not my proudest moment, especially standing awkardly under the tree, waiting for his friend to come, because I felt too guilty to just leave him...And then he said, "Today's my birthday, Jenna..." And I felt really bad. Good times. I weekly get the opportunity to listen to various horse professionals argue good-naturedly, and the farriers, clients and vets who all pass through our place are wonderful, funny people who I generally have a blast with. The very air around that place is saturated with laughter and good times, and humorous incidents you would never have to deal with at a desk job.

There are also hard days. There are days I have more shit on my honey-do list than I can ever get done, and when my routine gets messed up and I can't finish the things I want to get done, my OCD kicks in and I get frustrated and angry and spend the day stomping around in silence, hoping no one shows up until I can be sunny and people-friendly again. The rainy, freezing cold days when I can't feel my fingers or toes are miserable, and I spend all day walking in circles, cleaning stalls I just cleaned twenty minutes ago. Sometimes I have days where I could swear the horses are all plotting to kill me, drive me nuts, or make me chase them all over kingdom come and all I want to do is plop down in the dirt and have a good cry and never come back. I have spent more days than I care to count, keeping the vet and owner of a sick or injured horse company during treatment, and have stayed up plenty of nights to look in on an ailing horse. The very worst days are the sick days, the hurt days, and the days where I cry with people I've known for years while we lay their best friend down and put them to peace. I will never forget the first time we lost one of the horses in my care; she was an old pony who died peacefully of a heart attack during the night, and the next day I went home and collapsed sobbing into my sister's arms, because, as I brokenly told her, "They really do die." We have lost five horses total in my time working there, and it never gets any easier. BO's young Thoroughbred had to be put down abruptly due to a small intestinal twist, and when the vet left at three in the morning, I calmly walked behind the tack lockers and then broke and doubled over, feeling like my soul was coming out of my chest in splinters. Needless to say, some days I think I'd like to become a turtle farmer.

But when I get to stand out in the open air and watch a herd of rambunctious geldings galloping and bucking around me, the nine year-old girl and the twenty-five year-old woman in me join hands and watch in starstruck wonder at the gold I work with every day. I get to see my best friend every day and be the one wholly in charge for his well-being. I cry with the group of people who have become my friends and family with their hardships, and I cry and celebrate with them over their triumphs. There is nothing so profound as standing on the rail, watching a friend jump her horse for the first time in a year after a devastating injury. Or seeing other friends who have worked hard for years finally unload their dream horse off of a trailer and introduce them to their new home. Or being at a student's very first show and seeing her gallumph down the hill at me waving her very first ribbon and beaming like she's won an Oscar. Damn close enough, in my world. I'll take it. The emotional attachment I form to the people and horses at my home away from home either makes me very good or absolutely horrible at my job, but I can't see doing it any other way. 

So for all my friends and family, I know things are changing, and it's all very scary and weird. But I want to thank all of you for making my job the place I will always fit, the reason to get up in the morning, and the only place I can ever imagine spending eight or nine hours in a row. I love you guys.