The chestnut horse stood before me, her long mane gracing her arched neck.
I watched as the veterinarian and the horse’s person looked at a radiograph of the mare’s left front lower leg, which showed a clearly defined suspensory ligament.
The vet explained to the woman that the horse would not be able to recover from her suspensory ligament injury and would be permanently lame.
The woman was distraught by the news.
Confidently, I strode forward and announced that I could help the horse return to full soundness. I did my signature Debono Moves* work with the horse for five minutes and, magically, the horse healed.
Magically, indeed! Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I recounted my dream.
I laughed at the arrogance of my dream self, but I didn’t dismiss the dream. It felt important. And there had to be a reason why the suspensory ligament was shown in such detail. I wondered what it all meant.
And just who WAS that beautiful horse?...
The chestnut horse’s life changed so drastically, so wonderfully, that having the ability to pick up both leads easily is hardly worth mentioning.
Except that the story starts with a problem at the canter. And an upcoming horse show. A big one.
I was teaching a two-week Debono Moves equine workshop at a large, picturesque facility. Green lawns studded with shady pepper trees surrounded the large barns, and riders had access to trainers of various riding disciplines.
Horses enjoyed the ample turnout paddocks and many happily lived outside year-round. All in all, it seemed like a lovely place to be a horse.
Except if you happened to be a horse in Barn A, Section 2.
That part of the barn was leased by a trainer who kept his charges locked up in dark stalls, the windows clamped shut to keep out light and to prevent the horses from experiencing the outside world. The equines were always outfitted with blankets and tail sets, and sometimes wore...
Sarah, a 43-year-old brunette with the tan, toned arms of a longtime equestrian, was visibly frustrated. She had hit a disappointing roadblock in her training.
Despite working with a respected dressage instructor, Sarah was beginning to feel as if her imported warmblood would never do well in dressage.
Her horse, an eight-year-old Dutch warmblood named Ace, had lovely conformation and an impressive pedigree. Generally easy-going and amiable, the bay gelding became tense whenever a rider asked for any degree of collection.
A tenacious researcher, Sarah had already explored medical, diet, training, turnout and saddle-related reasons that could prevent a horse from rounding his back and engaging his hindquarters. But despite all her expensive efforts, her horse was getting more resistant. She constantly worried that his back might be sore and tight. No wonder Sarah was frustrated!
When Sarah heard about my work, she figured that one more opinion couldn’t hurt. And less than five...