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HORSE STORY
My Horse is a 1991 Peruvian Paso and his name is
Mistico Reflejo. He is living proof what can happen when the feet
are allowed to grow "naturally." When I met him he was a bit underweight
and his muscles had atrophied due to the lack of exercise. He wasn't
being ridden because of a variety of little problems starting with the
feet. He was also shoeless. At the time I thought that is
the way he should go.
I decided to lease him and help the owner with his recovery. The
first thing that happened was the farrier was called to put shoes on
him because he was now going to be ridden. He had wedge pads
and bar shoes and the whole nine yards because he was diagnosed with
a bruised coffin bone. We thought we were doing the right thing by
putting shoes on because that is what we have all bought into for
years.
Well, Mistico had all but given up. He courageously carried me
around Campbell Valley Park without a whimper but his eyes said
different things. His "way of going" was very cautious and
contracted because he was protecting himself from pain! I was giving
him massage twice a week along with stretch exercises but nothing
was changing his personality. He just went along with what I was
asking of him but wasn't a willing participant.
This "shoe thing" all came to a crashing halt 2 months later when
the farrier decided to use another type of material between the pads
and Mistico's hoof. Mistico couldn't and wouldn't walk forward. He
went into a "robot" mode and managed to walk forward very carefully.
But of course, this was the "getting used to" period. Of course he
would be fine in a day or two. Wrong!
I watched him for an hour after the farrier left and he was walking
backwards to get away from the pain. We called the farrier and had
her come back right away to take the shoes off. This is when we both
decided we were going to persevere with the "wild horse trim".
Within a week we saw a change in Mistico's personality and his "way
of going." I took him for hand walks (and still do) with
Old Mac boots and I continued my massage therapy with him. His body
and mind started changing. His muscles became elongated and
were relaxed instead of being bunched up. He no longer stood with
his four feet UNDER his belly. He was finally standing "squared up"
and his eyes had an interested look. The difference in the
physical, mental and emotional changes in Mistico were outstanding.
He moved with freedom of pain!
UPDATE:!!
As of May 17, 2005, Mistico has had to go
back to wearing shoes. He was not doing well even with the Old
Mac Boots. They were not giving him the support he needed and
they were much too big for his tiny feet and he became sore.
He would land toe first instead of heel first.
He was lying down one day and he struggled
to get up. His whole body was shaking from the strain. I
immediately gave him a massage from poll to tail. No stretching. The
heating pad was used on his lower back and his legs were massaged. I
hand walked him for about 15 minutes then turned him out on pasture.
He moved around freely and appeared to be happy eating grass.
For a horse to go barefoot he must have
good conformation to start with. It also depends on the terrain the
horse is asked to travel on. With a thin-soled horse he must
have shoes on or bruising of the sole will be an ongoing problem.
My friend has two Arabs with awesome
concave feet. However, they have been trimmed and looked after
properly with the added advantage of always being out on pasture to
move around. I have also seen Peruvians with very good feet
and were able to go barefoot.
Mistico did not have the advantage of a
knowledgeable farrier to look after him properly, consequently, he
has been walking around with contracted heels with a long toe for
about 9 years. In the last 2 years he has improved with proper hoof
care and I found a farrier who understands this particular problem.
He does not believe in backing up the toe or "dubbing" as they call
it. All that does is "quick" the horse. He works with
the conformation and takes the pressure of the thin soles by
creating a shoe that will give Mistico the relief he needs.
Mistico is 14 years of age and he is have
joint problems which I have been dealing with accordingly. I
was told by a vet I have about 5 years left of riding.
It is now March 2006. Mistico is
still in shoes and always will be. His farrier trims and shoes
him on a regular 4-5 week basis. Mistico's suspensories are a
subject of concern now but we are dealing with it.
Mistico was humanely euthanized May, 2006.
Thanks to Tara Nicholson of Hayburner Haven Farms and Dr. John
Twidale for their concern and professionalism.
THE JEANNIE SULLIVAN AND EL PIRATA
NEGRO STORY
Article reproduced from The Gaited
Horse
Most of us have wondered what it
would feel like to be told we have cancer. Jean Sullivan already knows.
In August of 1996, at 57 years of age, she was diagnosed with a serious
form of breast cancer. Within two years, the metastasizing cancer had
invaded the bones of her spine and left hip. For many years, Jean had
been an avid rider of hunter/jumpers, but she got to the point where she
was in constant pain, and the doctors declared that her horseback riding
days were over. "My reaction was to ask the doctors what they knew about
horses," Jean reports, "and they answered, honestly, that they knew
nothing. So I told them that they were the wrong people to be taking
care of someone who couldn't live without horses." Jean set out to find
a new doctor, and her inquiries led her to Dr.C.H. McJunkin, a
chiropractor skilled at handling the kind of hip and spine problems she
had. That satisfied only half of her requirements. The other necessary
qualifications were revealed when Dr. McJunkin told her that continued
riding would be beneficial, if she'd just change breeds. Dr. McJunkin's
parents had been deeply involved with Peruvian Paso horses. "The gentle
motion of the Peruvian's natural, four-beat gait can be extremely
therapeutic for people who suffer from hip and spine ailments," he
explained. The doctor's statement triggered something in Jean's memory.
Many years earlier she'd briefly ridden several Peruvians, and their
smooth ride had left a very positive impression. "Housed in the back of
my mind was a half-thought/half-dream of someday owning a Peruvian,"
Jean remembers. "I didn't consciously think about it, but it was there.
This dream horse even had a color: black." Jean was obsessed with the
need to continue riding, and she put out the word that she was looking
for a black Peruvian gelding. Her loyal "horse friends" looked high and
low, but trained geldings were in high demand and short supply.
Moreover, there weren't many Peruvians in Arizona, and very few were
black. "I couldn't think about anything except finding my dream
horse and riding him for as long as God would grant me," Jean says with
a smile. "There didn't seem to be a very good chance of that, but I
never gave up." One afternoon the phone rang. "The date will never leave
my memory," Jean promises. "It was June 9, 1998." The caller was a
stranger named Michele Wilson, who had heard of Jean's search. Michele
said that she had a gelding she was willing to sell. However, she was
attached to the horse. He'd been her first Peruvian. She'd owned him for
eight years and would only let him go to a good home. No problem
there. If Arizona's Peruvians Pasos knew how well "Jeannie" treats her
horses, they'd have all been standing at her corral gate, begging to get
in. "What's his name?" Jeannie asked. "El Pirata Negro," Michele
answered. Then she unknowingly dropped a bomb. "That translates as 'The
Black Pirate'." Black! "I got goose bumps, and that's the truth,"
Jeannie remembers. "His nickname," Michele continued, "is Mr. Miller. He
was born in Texas, and his dam died giving birth. There was no other
mare to put him with, and the vet said there wasn't much to be done
except to 'hope for the best.' However, his life was saved by a
resourceful ranch manager who decided he had to do more than that. He
coaxed milk and colostrum from the dead mare into two Miller Beer
bottles. Then he capped one bottle for the next morning, attached a
nipple to the other and sat with the colt until the little guy had
slurped every drop. Being raised that way, he's more human than horse.
If he likes you, a strong bond will develop. That's the way he is."
Jeannie gathered all the information she could and then made an
appointment to meet Mr. Miller. "I was as nervous as a
cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof," is how Jeannie tells it. "Would Mr. Miller
like me? I went to our first meeting armed with apples and carrots. I
didn't intend to bribe him; but if we hit it off, I planned to cement
the relationship right then and there!" "It seemed like Miller
knew we were offering him for sale," Michele explains. "Every time
someone came to look at him, he'd turn his back, pin his ears flat
against his head and act generally disagreeable. Soon the potential
buyers would walk away without even asking to ride, and he'd perk up his
ears and -- in his way -- grin as if to say: Well, I got rid of them!"
When Jeannie arrived, she asked if she could walk into Mr. Miller's
paddock. "I said: sure," Michelle remembers, "and she walked in.
Miller's head went up. He put his ears forward and walked right up to
Jeannie. Kismet!" The rest is history. Jeannie hadn't planned to
ride him that first day; but before she knew it, trainer Stan Reese was
summoned from his nearby training center, and she was being boosted into
the saddle. "He was a perfect angel," she recalls. "After just a short
ride I could already feel my back and hip start to loosen up. He was
unbelievably smooth, but there was a little swaying motion that did
wonders for my aching bones." Jeannie bought the horse then and
there. Anxious for the match to be a long and successful one, the
Wilsons insisted on paying to have Stan Reese take the horse to his
training center for some "fine tuning". "I'm the one that needs
the fine tuning," Jeannie laughed. "Well then, you come over as
often as you want," Stan grinned. "I won't have him all that long. It's
just that he's been a show horse all his life, and I'd like to retrain
him for the trail." Mr. Miller was trailered to the Reeses' to
begin a new life at twelve years of age. "From the show ring out
into the beautiful Arizona desert he went," Jeannie remembers, "getting
used to things he'd never seen in an arena. Stan retrained him from
Peruvian to western tack; and twice a day -at dawn and dusk - Miller
went out, gaiting among the cactus and turning his ears to pick up the
sound of scurrying cottontail rabbits." Stan and Shirley took
Jeannie "under their wing", and she came to their place almost every day
for the month Miller was there. "They graciously answered my endless
questions and gave me the reassurance I needed," Jeannie says, thinking
back. Michele still remembers that Jeannie's visits with the Reeses
often lasted until well after dark. 'There she'd be," Michelle says,
"sometimes in the dark of night, finishing Miller's third or forth
grooming by wiping his face with a black wash cloth she'd brought from
home." The Arizona Peruvian Paso Club, Ltd. encourages its members
to buy a membership for people who purchase horses from them, and the
Wilsons did as recommended. "The other members of the club warmly
welcomed me," Jeannie remembers, "and I found their activities very
enjoyable." A month later, Stan Reese and Michele Wilson delivered
Mr. Miller to Jeannie's home in Peoria. When they arrived, Jeannie
welcomed them with champagne, and toasts were made to everyone there,
including Mr. Miller. At Jeannie's, Mr. Miller wasn't lonely for a
second. His new friends included a kitten that sleeps in his feeder, a
rooster he permits to roost on his back and an owner who treats him like
royalty. "I visit him at least six times a day," Jeannie grins. "He
nickers every time he sees me, but I think his favorite visit is the one
when he gets groomed. He seems to like it best when I finish the job
with his black face cloth." Jeannie also put Mr. Miller on a diet.
"Even after he'd lost a fair bit of weight, he still had a long way to
go," Jeannie reports. "He was such an easy keeper that I considered
looking for a way for him to cart away his own manure, but that probably
wouldn't have been a very good idea. With the exercise, my muscles and
bones are gaining strength and flexibility. The doctors tell me I'm
doing better every day. They can't believe I can mount by myself and
ride for hours with virtually no discomfort." Jeannie was pleased
to discover that her insurance agent, Ruth Jacobi, who wrote the
insurance on Mr. Miller, was a big fan of Peruvian horses. Ruth was an
official for the well-known A to Z Horse Show and holds a place of honor
in the history of the Peruvian breed in Arizona. Back in the days when
Peruvians didn't have much of a following, she used her influence to get
them included in the shows whenever possible, and she was very
inventive. One year, she had them -- instead of the usual Quarter Horses
-- carry the colors during the opening ceremony. During subsequent
years, she invited Peruvian owners to give special exhibitions, and
finally she managed to schedule some Peruvian classes. Ruth was also the
Paddock Steward at the Carousel Horse Show and managed to work her magic
there, as well. Every year, the show offers Peruvians a full schedule of
classes. "Who knows," Jeannie says with a twinkle in her eye, "the good
Lord willing, just maybe Mr. Miller will make appearances in the show
ring again, with me in the saddle! I think I'd like that. Of all the
horses I've ever owned, he's the one I most love and respect, and he
deserves to be seen by other people who need a smooth-riding, gentle
horse with a great personality!" The only "calamity" so far has
been a bruised toe. "Once time while I was bending over to clean out his
hooves, he stepped on my toe," Jeannie remembers. "I swear he had a look
in his eye that said 'I'm sorry', and he promptly laid his head on my
shoulder." What was a bruised toe compared to Jeannie's new
outlook on life? She bounces out of bed every morning, feeds her pride
and joy (but not too much!) and sits on the fence listening to him munch
his food. Now and then, Mr. Miller leaves his feed and comes over to
give her a friendly nudge. "Evening brings the end of another happy
day," she reports, a contented look on her face. "Even with the cancer,
I feel unrestricted freedom. Mr. Miller gives me the ability to go where
I want and to do what I most love. I call him my non-doctor-assisted
therapy. He's the best
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