I like to think of myself as organized. Its a fantasy, really, but I like to pretend my day is scheduled and that I have a strict timetable I must abide to. I try, but living with a toddler and having dogs and livestock means the schedule is usually thrown out the window by 6:30 a.m. Although, if the schedule is thrown off that early, it has nothing to do with the toddler or the horses and is probably just because I overslept.
Our day starts with my husband leaving for work before the sun even peeks above the horizon. I wake up hours later (or at least I get out of bed - I usually don't wake up until the barking of dogs jars me into consciousness). I put my coveralls on over my PJs and I feed the dogs first. This is where I really am strict about the order of things. Preventing a dog fight around here requires analytical reasoning fit for the LSAT. Crash and Riot can't be in the dog yard together. Hero and Crash can be in the dog yard together. Pacino can't be in the dog yard with any of the other dogs yet, although we're working on it. Crash will howl like a monkey if he's in his crate and I go downstairs to feed the other dogs or let them out. Most of the time we're also boarding and training at least one other dog and they have to be kept separate too (except for Baily the Labradoodle, a regular visitor who gets along famously with any of our dogs). So, Crash (pictured below) goes out first before he pees all over his crate. Then I feed and let out the others (Riot and Hero first, then Pacino), bringing Crash inside before the others go out, of course
This is where the schedule starts to break down. Dogs occasionally throw up in their crates. Dogs also occasionally have explosive diarrhea in their crates. Dogs do all kinds of gross things in their crates that require precious minutes of clean up time. I suppose I would throw up or have explosive diarrhea if horse manure was a regular part of my diet too. Dogs are gross.
When I finally get out to the barn, the horses are impatiently waiting for their breakfast and to be released from their prison cells. Cisco bangs his hoof and chews on the stall door to remind me that I'm moving way too slow. Molly has seen it all, and she waits patiently while I dish out the morning grain and hay.
According to what I've read, horses produce approximately 50 lbs. of manure a day. I haven't weighed ours, but that seems accurate. While the horses eat, I pick up around 49 lbs. with the manure fork and Riot picks up the rest. Then I let the horses out into the paddock and Riot and I clean up the remaining 50 lbs. of manure in the stalls. If all goes well (and it never does), there are no stall parts to repair, no buckets to re-hang and no major spills to pick up. I don't even check my watch to see how far behind I am.
The next 15 minutes is heaven for me as I brush the horses. I talk while I brush, and they chew their hay and listen. I check them over for cuts and scrapes, and they swat flies and me with their tails. Molly is the best listener. Cisco, being the boy, tunes me out, but nods his head in agreement every once in a while.
I check my watch, realize I'm half an hour behind schedule and rush back into the house. Its not even 8 a.m. and I'm ready to crawl back into bed again. No such luck, as the toddler is now awake and the real fun of the day begins!
Our day starts with my husband leaving for work before the sun even peeks above the horizon. I wake up hours later (or at least I get out of bed - I usually don't wake up until the barking of dogs jars me into consciousness). I put my coveralls on over my PJs and I feed the dogs first. This is where I really am strict about the order of things. Preventing a dog fight around here requires analytical reasoning fit for the LSAT. Crash and Riot can't be in the dog yard together. Hero and Crash can be in the dog yard together. Pacino can't be in the dog yard with any of the other dogs yet, although we're working on it. Crash will howl like a monkey if he's in his crate and I go downstairs to feed the other dogs or let them out. Most of the time we're also boarding and training at least one other dog and they have to be kept separate too (except for Baily the Labradoodle, a regular visitor who gets along famously with any of our dogs). So, Crash (pictured below) goes out first before he pees all over his crate. Then I feed and let out the others (Riot and Hero first, then Pacino), bringing Crash inside before the others go out, of course
This is where the schedule starts to break down. Dogs occasionally throw up in their crates. Dogs also occasionally have explosive diarrhea in their crates. Dogs do all kinds of gross things in their crates that require precious minutes of clean up time. I suppose I would throw up or have explosive diarrhea if horse manure was a regular part of my diet too. Dogs are gross.When I finally get out to the barn, the horses are impatiently waiting for their breakfast and to be released from their prison cells. Cisco bangs his hoof and chews on the stall door to remind me that I'm moving way too slow. Molly has seen it all, and she waits patiently while I dish out the morning grain and hay.
According to what I've read, horses produce approximately 50 lbs. of manure a day. I haven't weighed ours, but that seems accurate. While the horses eat, I pick up around 49 lbs. with the manure fork and Riot picks up the rest. Then I let the horses out into the paddock and Riot and I clean up the remaining 50 lbs. of manure in the stalls. If all goes well (and it never does), there are no stall parts to repair, no buckets to re-hang and no major spills to pick up. I don't even check my watch to see how far behind I am.The next 15 minutes is heaven for me as I brush the horses. I talk while I brush, and they chew their hay and listen. I check them over for cuts and scrapes, and they swat flies and me with their tails. Molly is the best listener. Cisco, being the boy, tunes me out, but nods his head in agreement every once in a while.
I check my watch, realize I'm half an hour behind schedule and rush back into the house. Its not even 8 a.m. and I'm ready to crawl back into bed again. No such luck, as the toddler is now awake and the real fun of the day begins!
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