Here Lila Jane (my daughter wanted to name her Lila, and I wanted to name her Jane) is working on the vaulting barrel in the back yard. She's got this stand move down pretty well, I think. However, if she continues to insist on doing it backwards--which makes it no longer a compulsory move, but a freestyle--then she's going to need to scootch her bob tail closer to the handles. (And please don't send me any nasty emails about what a meanie I am for chopping off my dogs tails and then making a stew out of them or something. I didn't. They came to me that way. Sans tails. I don't agree with it. But it's pretty common here in New Mexico. [And I just made up the stew part ...]) Got to give her credit for trying a backwards stand, though. It's particularly courageous when your tail has been "lobbed off by someone so &%#!ing stupid, I mean, someone who should never even own a dog blah blah blah". (A little taste of how some charming people communicate with you on the blogosphere.) There's that whole balance issue, etc. Standing facing the tail-end of the horse is tough to accomplish on a moving horse, even at a walk.

I need to talk to her about this head-first dismount thing, though...

It's amazing what you can do with a tractor and a front-end loader and a little time by yourself. Just moved this big heavy barrel from the garage to the backyard. I'm going to be demonstrating vaulting for a group of dressage riders next week at my coach's new barn. Apparently they are all around my age. So I have to practice. Quite a lot. And then a little more. J. asked me to move it outside anyway for her. How I have gotten talked into this, I'm not quite sure. I will not be wearing a unitard.

I am wondering what the potential is for total heeler havoc with this big interesting blue thing in the back yard. As you can see, they are already trying it out. I expect there will be fights over who gets to sit on it. Thankfully, it's too heavy for them to carry around as they frolic, which is what the tenacious heeler sisters really like to do when they get a hold of something interesting. Frolic. Loads of it. Life is one big heeler frolic.

Now I'm just thinking out loud here ... but ... is this a potential circus act? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Vaulting Heelers. Can I quit my day job now???

(Oops. shouldn't have mentioned the word c-i-r-c-u-s. The self-righteous, animal rights wacko nut jobs who know absolutely nothing about me will be after me now about how teaching pets to do tricks is The Root of All Evil and blah blah blah ... and then that's generally when I respond--Well, what have you done? How many dogs, cats, and horses have you rescued and either taken superb care of for the remainder of their natural lives or found good homes for???

And the answer is more often than not resounding silence. Or you go look at their profiles on MySpace, which are sometimes plastered with photos of whales and cute dolphins, and learn that the only pet they've ever had is a goldfish, not even a gerbil. They'd probably run in terror if my horses came cantering up to them in the pasture, just because they wanted to say hello and were hoping that they might have something good to eat in their pocket--because, after all, you know, these self-appointed guardians have had so much first-hand experience with heelers, and horses, and whales.)

Probably not.