Take off, landing, a bow to the audience and aplause

Last time I wrote about the ideal spill from a horse, a slow flight and onto a soft field and how it took me only a few seconds to get up. Now I know how mistaken I was to call that a perfect fall. Exactly a week after that I experienced another involuntary dismount. So, how does the world's most ideal spill look like? You need:
1. one crazy Lipizzaner (about to come into season, and with a foal, calling her from the stable)
2. one wacko blonde (with acrobatic abilities and good reflexes)
3. one skilful photographer (with good timing and a sense of humour)
4. one Black Death (to fill in the picture)

And the result? Here it is:



It ended with me landing in an erectile position on my right foot, adding the left in half a second, bowing to the audience and laughing the next five minutes. Monta and I will soon have our very own circus act, it seems... :)

Green, how I love you green

The Black death and I haven't been that productive these days, as I have been discovering new dimensions of the colour green through my abundant mucus secretion. To say it plainly, I'm sniffling like hell. Also my voice has become so roughly sexy, that Bryan Adams could use me as a double when he wouldn't feel like singing. The weather supports me in my poor condition, as it is raining outside, so all in all, the air is full with autumn depression and the days are not even close to being ideal for some serious training. Instead we do some clicks and tricks, we go on shorter walks, but most of all, we let ourselves the luxury to skive a bit. Sometimes it really feels good to skip some work. I'm not so sure about Sambo, though, but after all the poor fella doesn't have any choice, so he helps me to do - nothing. I hope that in the next days the weather will be better so we can go riding again - not that riding takes less effort than walking, but at least it definitively contributes more to my soul and my smile. The other day my smile disappeared for a moment, though (but the mare had a blast, on the other hand), because I had riding with a touch of aviation skills - a doe jumped out of the bushes right in front of Monta, who of course got scared (the doe almost landed on us) and jumped away; I was just moving my feet through the stirrups, so I wasn't very stable. So I flew a little bit... Luckily we were on a field, so the only cosequence of the fall was a dirty right thigh. And an even more tired dog, because they played 'Catch me if you can!' with the doe. I think the doe won, but I'm not sure. The mare and I walked to the grass and then I spent all my energy on getting back into the saddle, so I wasn't paying much attention to Sambo and his little runaway... Well, at least he makes sure the does also have a fit'n'fun programme.

A black muzzle is already checking me through the window, so I better go do some clicking in hope of a better weather for the next riding stunt. Sniff, brrrrrrrr. Oh, look, another kind of green!

Finally, my first blog. A sort of diary where I can write down my doggy adventures, an informal extension of my web page. An after party, so to say. If some of you will enjoy reading the neverending plot of a highly neurotic Belgian and his equally neurotic handler, then good for you. If not, I suppose there's enough light reading on the internet for you to go through while ruminating you breakfast, so you won't be particularly hurt if this blog won't be your favorite one. I won't. But if you do like it, be sure to come back. Sambo and I aren't very good at leading a quiet, tranquil life, so I suppose these pages will soon start to fill.

Take care, Ursa