Horse Sense & Dollars Too

In my thirties I owned four horses, a sensible number based on the size of my family at the time. We lived in the country and had a pasture and stables for them at the back of our property. There were plenty of tractor roads to ride and, in fact, I could (and often did) jump on my mare to ride her bareback to the little grocery store with its wooden floor, just down the way from our house. My three teenage sons threw hay and shoveled up the… used hay residuals. It was ideal. Then came a divorce, and I moved back to the city after finding good homes for Happy, Blaze, Spinner and Cronie. I gave them away along with saddles, blankets, bridles and so on, to people I knew would care for them. It didn’t occur to me to sell the horses or the tack. They were a part of my life that was dear to me, and money doesn’t mix well with matters of the heart.

In my sixties I decided I needed one -- just one -- horse in my life again. Brandi’s former owner let me keep her for a month to be sure we were a good fit, after which I paid the asking price without trying to strike a bargain. My horse was worth every cent and it would have been an insult to her to attempt to pay less. We were a good match. I was rusty and she was… somewhat… patient with me as I relearned the ropes -- not aiming to show her or to compete, but to simply have fun together. From the beginning I’ve never thought of her as my horse. I think of myself as her person, and I feel privileged.

I first boarded her a 30-minute drive from my house, where we enjoyed the wonderful indoor arena but had no roads to ride. Eventually I moved her to a new place, thirty minutes in the opposite direction. She hated it. We had a great indoor arena but she had no shelter in her pasture, which was very large but butted up against a rural highway. There were roads to ride; however, I didn’t have the confidence to take her out alone, and the other boarders were… less than friendly. Which made them “nice” compared to the owners of the place, who were… not nice. Brandi has no papers, and I have no patience for snobbery. So I moved Brandi to the place where she is currently boarded.

She loves it, and has adjusted to several moves from one pasture to another. No covered arena, but roads to ride and I have the confidence now to go out alone. Layout of the land favors dressage, and long term friendships among other boarders is rather cliquish, but Brandi and I pretty much keep to ourselves to avoid the games many people play (usually without enough insight to realize how obvious they are).

Now comes the dilemma: my cost of boarding her has gone from $130 per month in 2003 to $350 and rising. My choices are to pay even more when the exact increase is soon announced, to avoid the stress of moving her to another facility (she doesn’t like change), to take her off pellets and let her waste away slowly on hay that she doesn’t digest well, or to find someone who wants her and can afford to pay the ever-expanding expenses. I see this as a lose/lose/lose situation.

Our business overhead and living expenses have increased too; however, my husband and I haven’t raised the fee for our services in the past five years, because we are loyal to our clients and want to remain affordable to them when they need our help. That’s called putting people first and money second, not a popular philosophy in today’s economy, though many pay it lip service. If we had increased our fee at the same rate as Brandi’s maintenance has increased over the past 8 years, we would be charging close to $300 a session instead of $180. But then we are in the people business, not the horse business.

The people boarding Brandi for me are in the horse business. I am not. Therein lies the problem. I am her person, and responsible for making the sometimes hard decisions that affect her. Right now as I mull over options my heart is hurting, just a little, not a lot. I’m not a barrel racer, but I feel like I’m over the proverbial barrel. Sometimes that comes with accepting reality.

I suppose business is what it’s all about these days, with success being measured by dollar signs. That’s why Frank and I make such a great team. My primary motivation is to help people, he is the one who sees to it that we can stay in business in order for that to happen. There are others in our field who charge more and may earn income comparable to ours, but they earn their pay by helping fewer clients than we do. They have other jobs and multiple income streams, rather than dedicating themselves solely to the practice of hypnotherapy which is, after all, a profession. In my opinion, at least. Similar to being a dentist. (Would you choose one to do a root canal if he was in his office two days a week, selling vitamins door-to-door three days a week, and mowing lawns on the weekends? ) Yes, food must be put on the table. But from my point of view “following your passion” means devoting yourself to that which is dear to you, even if it means eating more beans and less steak.