First of all, I just want to say that the Eventing-A-Gogo blog just reached 300 followers! I cannot belive that 300 of you actually think my life is interesting enough to read about! Although we are talking about Gogo here... she makes EVERY day interesting! Thank you all for following along in this completely crazy journey!
Gogo is easily the smartest horse I've ever met. She problem solves and pieces information together in a way that I have never seen another horse do in my life. She is quick-thinking, intelligent, and has yet to prove to me that there is a problem on this planet earth that she can't think herself through. The scraps she has gotten herself into - and subsequently gotten herself out of with only minor scrapes - have astounded me. From getting three legs tangled in a panel of a roundpen and extricating herself carefully before anyone could help, to figuring out how to push backwards with all four legs on a stall wall when she is cast (which gives her room to right herself and stand), she always manages to use her ridiculous brainpower to overrule her senses and figure everything out with grace and ease.
Until now. Gogo has finally met her match in an innocuous piece of everyday tack, its heinous straps and basket surely molded by the Devil's hands himself in the fires of Hell. Like Superman when he meets kryptonite, Gogo's powers of intelligence and reason are completely sapped when she encounters this evil and torterous device. O lord of dieting and weight loss, how could you approve of such a cruel piece of equipment? No, it couldn't be, not.... THE GRAZING MUZZLE!
I introduced the muzzle to Gogo a few days ago after she had finished her breakfast and was just settling in for a nice morning graze. I slipped it over her head, made some small adjustments, and stepped back to admire the picture. Gogo just stood there, a look of utter confusion and bewilderment on her face. She was not concerned about this strange piece of equipment, she just... looked like every brain cell she owned had just leaked out of her ears and had left a vast and empty void in her head. There was no lightbulb. There wasn't even a candle. There was just a blank stare.
I offered her a bite of grass through the little opening in the muzzle. When it touched her nose, she jerked back, sneezing at the tickle. I tried again, but had the same response. Again, and again. She took a small nibble once or twice, but mostly she kept sneezing. And standing. And staring blankly into the distance.
I led her outside of the pasture to the greenest, most plush spot of grass I could find in the yard. She, true to form, put her head down, but when the grass tickled her through the hole in the muzzle she lifted her head again and just stood there. Just... stood. And sneezed. And stared blankly into the distance.
'Well, I guess she'll figure it out... she's super smart... right?' I said to myself as I put her back in her pasture. 'I'll come back at lunch and check on her.' I felt certain that when I returned on my lunchbreak, I'd find her grazing peacefully somewhere out in the pasture, working hard for those precious blades of grass that really aren't that difficult to put through a tiny hole in a muzzle. When I left, she was standing blankly at the gate, watching me leave as if to say, "Um.... what am I supposed to do now?"
When I returned six hours later, she was still standing in the EXACT same spot. She didn't even bother trying to go find out how to make the muzzle work, or at least try to figure out how to commit suicide by hanging herself on the fence by it, breakaway strap and all. She spent six muzzled hours just standing. And sneezing. And staring blankly into the distance. I took off the muzzle, and she shook her head and blinked at me, as if her brain was waking up after hibernation. She nonchalantly meandered away to graze, and I sighed and hung the muzzle up, determined not to give up just yet.
That evening, I brought her over to the pasture behind my house, which has gorgeous and thick green grass bursting up all over the place. Surely, I thought, this grass would be soft and tempting enough that she would figure the muzzle out, right? I was wrong. She kept sneezing and standing in one place, even with the deliciously tempting grassy treat at her feet, and finally just gave up and walked away. She walked and walked, and I came back to her side and followed. She kept just ONE step ahead of me, just so I couldn't catch her and kept walking. And walking. And walking. Finally, I just trotted forward and grabbed her, and tried to shove more grass into her muzzle. She just sneezed. And stood. And stared blankly into the distance.
That was the point that I gave up, put on a regular halter, and turned her loose in the pasture for a little bit of good grazing while I laid in my backyard and enjoyed the sunshine. She was so thoroughly delighted by this that she didn't leave the spot she was in for nearly an hour.
Gogo, meet ultimate nemisis. They shall do battle again shortly, but somehow I feel as though it has already permanently defeated her. Or maybe her enormous brain power will kick in, and she will find a way to destroy it for all time. Only time will tell.
Standing... and staring...
Zac's 3 week update
18 hours ago