Confessions of a Horse Crazy Girl

By AJ Mauk

The career of a horse trainer comes with a revolving door of horses. In my relatively short lifetime, I've ridden more horses than I can remember. Some of them have carved their own little place in my heart. Some are just brief touches in my memory. Then, there are the horses that have had a hand in shaping me into the person I am today. This is a collection of their stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AJ Mauk
• Release date: Nov 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301214273

AJ Mauk

I am a small town girl from Northern Ohio. During the day I train horses and at night I write.

Book preview

Chapter One:

Beans

When I was three years old I made up my mind about what I was going to be for the rest of my life. I was going to be a cowboy. It was that simple. No one could change my mind as far as I was concerned. What can I say? I've always been decisive.

This epiphany came to me one day at preschool. Yes, I went to preschool at three years old. Mostly because my best friend, who was a year older than me, was going. I had myself convinced I was going to miss out on something important if he went to school without me. So I made my mom miserable until she signed me up too.

There I was, at preschool, and Halloween rolled around. At the time I had no idea what Halloween even was. It's not a holiday my family celebrates. What I did know: it was just around my birthday and the school was throwing a party. Everyone got to dress up in costumes, there was candy in a pinata, we could get our faces painted, and there was even a balloon artist. I felt pretty special.

I don't know if it was somebody's mom or aunt or if the school hired her, but there was also a lady in the parking lot with a pony. He was a little tri-colored paint pony named Beans. Anyone that was interested could take a turn riding Beans. It was fate. I just happened to be dressed up as a cowboy after all.

That was the day I realized there was a horse shaped hole in my heart. I'd always been attracted to horses in books and television shows. Experiencing one in real life just hammered it home for me. If my mom hadn't literally dragged me off that pony, I probably would have ridden until he collapsed. I was born to be a cowboy.

At the time it was probably pretty humorous for people when I told them that. I mean, come on. Really? What three year old sticks by a decision for more then five minutes at a time? No one expected me to actually grow up to be a cowboy or anything similar. I think my mom probably had a sneaking suspicion that I was serious, but I also think she hoped I'd grow out of it quickly - horses are expensive after all.

But I didn't grow out of it. I clung to that dream like a dog with a bone. My mom tried to explain to me that we couldn't afford a horse or riding lessons. My dad was a public school teacher and she was a stay at home mom. I heard her, but at that age I didn't really understand. What did money have to do with anything? Me and horses were meant to be.

The rest of that school year I begged for riding lessons whenever I got the chance. It just wasn't going to happen. I wasn't deterred. I knew eventually I would have a horse. I knew it the same way I knew how to draw my next breath.

At the end of the school year the teachers called a meeting with my parents. They decided that I wasn't social enough to be successful in kindergarten. Basically, I failed kindergarten. The teacher suggested that my parents get me involved with some sort of peewee soccer or t-ball team, thinking it might help. There was only one problem: I had no interest in participating in some sport. If it wasn't a horse, I wanted nothing to do with it.

My mom, at the end of her rope with me, confided her frustrations to her good friend. One thing lead to another and the next thing I knew, my mom had the phone number of a family that owned a few nice horses. The family went to the same church as my best friend's family. Mom figured maybe she could at least get an idea of where to start looking for riding lessons for me.

As it turned out, when she called the number, the woman said she had an eleven year old daughter that was willing to give me riding lessons on her horse. Looking back at the whole situation now, I realize how fantastical it was. I realize just how much God's hand was in on each event. These things don't just happen on their own.

On a picture perfect Tuesday in the fall, I took my first riding lesson on Justa Snazzy Guy. He was a sixteen hand high American Quarter Horse gelding. With a hand equaling four inches, he was a big horse for a little girl. I didn't care. It was love at first sight. I climbed into the little English saddle on the big blood bay horse's back with no trace of fear. No one really expected me to last a full hour in the saddle, but I did.

Riding Snazzy cemented my dream. Our lessons became a weekly occurrence. Snazzy became my first love. Over the years, once a week eventually turned into a lease and I rode five to seven days a week. I showed in my first horse show at five years old. He eventually became my first 4-H project.

The lessons I learned on that horse were not limited to riding. He gave me responsibility, confidence, humility, and an unshakable sense of self. We rode together for nine years before he passed away. I owe a lot to that horse and the family that was willing to share him with me. They made a dream that was logistically and financially impossible come true.

There's just something about a horse. A horse can make a fairy tale become a biography and an impossible dream become a reality. God created the horse as a steed for men to ride into war and as a companion for little girls that decide they want to be cowboys.

Chapter Two:

Showing Snazzy

The first time I showed a horse was not long after my fifth birthday. By that time, Snazzy and I had been riding together for a year and a half or so. The farm where Snazzy lived had a huge, beautiful arena and periodically they held horse shows. When I was asked if I would like to ride Snazzy in a walk/trot class, I didn't have to think about it for very long. Of course I wanted to ride in a real, live horse show.

We came up with enough borrowed pieces to put together a hunt habit that fit me. The night before the horse show, mom and I helped get the horse bathed and banded. He seemed to enjoy getting spit shined. I wasn't really old enough to completely understand everything that went into getting a horse ready for a show. It was all new to me.

The next morning dawned earlier then I would have liked. We got out to the farm a few hours before the horse show was scheduled to start so we could help get everything set up. There was a lot going on. The concession booth had roasters of sloppy Joe's and shredded chicken cooking. The entry booth was a flurry of action, getting all the different papers and prizes organized. Signs had to be placed around the property to point people in the right direction for parking. It was crazy, but everything got finished up as the first competitors started to arrive.

My memory of all the details is pretty fuzzy. I think I was too excited about showing off Snazzy to pay too much attention. Before I knew it, it was time to start warming him up for our class. I was too new to the whole horse showing world to be nervous. When the announcer called for my class to enter the arena, I nudged Snazzy in to a trot and started posting away.

We had a little bit of an advantage over the other two girls, with it being our home arena. I was too young and was having too much fun to care much about anything except for the class. The announcer called for us to walk, then reverse, then we were trotting again. Later, as Snazzy and I