The Valentine I Can Actually Train

I’ve known my husband for six and a half years and we’ve now been married for over half of that. In that time, I’ve trained him to …

• bring his Nalgene water bottle home from work (most of the time)
• kiss me goodnight
• get up and run to bed real fast so that I get stuck locking the door and turning out the lights.

I’ve had my horse for five and a half months and already I’ve trained him to …

• lunge
• walk/trot under saddle
• lower his head when I put my hand on his poll
• pick his feet up and hold them up patiently
• let me work on his right side
• move his hindquarters
• move his shoulders
• go sideways
• go forwards
• go backwards
• chase me
• tie
• respect my space
• stand still for mounting
• not to be pushy when looking for treats

Maybe us women are so into horses because they actually are trainable. I was never under any illusion when I got married that I would ever change my husband (or get him to put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher). I knew I had to be OK with his idiosyncrasies and habits, because there just wasn’t a whole lot I was going to be able to do about it. (That’s cool with me … I love you just the way you are, honey!).

My horse on the other, seems to spend his life waiting for me to tell him what to do. He’s learned to trust me and enjoy my company and the work that we do together. He’s smart and he picks up on what I want quickly and is almost always willing to do it. I love him enough not to leave him just the way he is. I want him to have a job and to be manageable and rideable and happy and useful. And that won’t happen by leaving him alone.

Horses are very good at training their owners; sometimes even better than we are at training them. Ace has trained me to take things one step at a time and to not pressure him too much. He’s trained me to be careful around that back left foot because he likes to kick if I mess with it too much. He’s trained me to give him lots of cookies. He’s trained me to rub his forehead just underneath his forelock. He’s trained me to not worry so much over every little scrape (I’m a bit of a klutz, mom).

Of course, if you ask Ace he’ll probably tell you that I’m still a work in progress.