We’re at five and a half months after surgery. I just added Polly back to the daily turnout list. I don’t know that she’ll do an awful lot of running, but I think it’s good for her mentally to have a few hours in a big paddock.

Our work right now is really about setting expectations, manageable goals, meeting her where she’s at. People on trail still require an alert, but she no longer freezes in place. Dogs aren’t a big deal. Deer and bobcats both require hard looks and lots of thoughts. Turkeys are still concerning. The head-tossing I struggled with for so (so so so) long is mostly gone? I don’t know if it’ll ever resolve completely. We’re not having rides where I have no steering because her head is in five different directions and her feet and shoulders are too. I don’t think I take any credit for this; I suspect her trainer has told her that’s not a thing good ponies do, and Polly went “OK not a thing I do,” and this is why I have help. Honestly, this is the training I hoped we’d get in last summer. It’s absolutely worth it for me. Knowing she’s getting out, knowing she’s getting those “Polly was amazing” reports, hearing over and over how she’s a solid citizen, really enjoyable, reliable, etc. This is my counterbalance to the rehab walks where I watched her do tiny bolts, spins, radiate anxious energy. Frankly, she’s been amazing under saddle.. or under bareback pad, as trainer friend has taken to riding her almost exclusively bareback.

My horse is now more arena-savvy than I am. On the weekends we work on trotting laps. Balance and confidence are the target, more for me than her. The first few rides in the arena I got on, walked down the long side, panicked at turning left, and was on for maybe five minutes total. That’s a me problem, not a Polly problem. Now we go trot laps in both directions til she settles and I remember how out of shape I am and that I haven’t done fifteen minutes of nearly solid trotting in years now, at least not at speed.

Polly did in fact learn the “I stand still for mounting” piece. She’s better without someone at her head, we learned, as then she’s thinking about me and not putting her nose on people and oh maybe there’s cookies and hello hello how interesting you are. It’s still not perfect, but it’s good enough that I can work on not having an anxious meltdown over putting my foot in the stirrup to mount.

I am working on moving her to a fancier stall, same barn. I love the open stall she’s in now. I don’t love that she sticks her head through the fence for her neighbor’s hay, both getting more hay than she needs and rubbing out her mane. I really don’t love that it seems like half the days I’m out there, she and her neighbor fuss (fine!) and her hind legs connect with the pipe panel (not fine). The scrapes on her butt and her face aren’t an issue. The legs, though, I don’t think slamming them into metal repeatedly is healthy.

There’s still an imbalance at the trot. My suspicion is that it’s a strength thing, and will resolve with time and consistent work. She feels like she’s falling on her forehand going right, and then I ask her to actually balance herself and quit falling in, and oh hey horse feels normal again. It’s not her default, but it’s attainable if I ask for it.

Polly still spooks at her own shadow. It’s a silly, frustrating, and probably very normal phase. I don’t like it, and it’s stressful, but we’re working on it. She does open gates inward now, and we’re working on steps to open it back towards us as well. Some days she stands at the tie rail, most days she digs holes in the dirt. It’s improving, for sure, but it’s not great.

With the time change, I finally dropped to five days a week instead of seven at the barn. She’s still getting out all seven; whenever we transition off that I think turnout will be enough.

I’m re-learning how to really sit and follow the walk. I keep telling myself that all this walk work will pay off in the long run. It feels a long way off. Some days I feel really “plugged in” as Megan taught, some days I am totally not there and keep putting Nicole and her gaited duo in my head as “if I were Nicole on her gaited horse, how would I be sitting?” and sometimes that makes it click too.

I can text and ride bareback now. We’re rediscovering normal. Six months since I lost Fetti. It’s still raw some days. The grief comes in waves; it’s not Polly’s fault. The next goal is to haul over to our old stomping grounds (five minutes away) and ride the ponies over there – and that’s where I think I will struggle to compartmentalize. It needs to be done! I miss those trails! But I miss my pony too, and there’s a lot of memories on those trails.

Small steps, one day at a time.