This one is hard

Ooft. This one is going to be hard.

Next in my story is Elvis, my little arab that I bought as a low maintenance, pre-trained, middle aged horse, that I could have as a side hobby, while I lived the rest of my life studying, partying, working and being a 19yo.

After realising that I actually couldn't live without riding (see previous blog), I bought Elvis as a then 11yo with the intention that if I had a horse that was 'easy' and didn't require 'training', then it would be far easier and far less stressful for me. I could just ride a few times a week and compete and woila, no dramas, piece of cake....

I went down and rode Elvis before buying this time (thank you Dylan for that lesson) and he was exactly what was promised. Fat, shiny, pretty and presence like The King (Elvis) himself. So I bought him and got him trucked up to Darwin from Sydney.

Elvis arrived and we started competing in the Darwin show scene, all the while him slowly worming his way into my heart. He was smart, had an ego, was an attention seeker and liked to play games. While living the Territory life, he was residing with my sister and brother-in-laws polocrosse horses. My brother-in-law would practice and try to bail Elvis up in the paddock, and get his polocrosse horses to read, react and block other horses. But Elvis outsmarted them all… and the brother-in-law too.

We moved to Brisbane the following year and Elvis came with us. Unfortunately the truck trip down was awful and Elvis got off the other end with the transporter cautioning me about my safety. He was an underweight nervous wreck, rearing when I tried to lead him and had developed sacro-iliac issues. It took the next 6-12 months for me to put weight back on him, rehabilitate him physically and then be able to mentally work with him again. Thankfully Elvis put enough trust back in me to come out the other side, and we built a partnership together that revolved around... him :)

We got back out there and strutted our stuff on the QLD show circuit winning countless champions. One of Elvis's all time favourite moments was the lap of honour at the Ekka... The memory of being a passenger on his back, trying to contain his ego while he showed off to the crowd applauding him, always makes me smile.

I gradually transitioned more into dressage and after meeting some lovely locals and a new coach, started to change the way I rode. Over the next few years we defied our coaches words and started training tempi changes, canter zig zags, and pirouettes. Elvis was always 'interesting' to ride when I applied a little pressure, so I was always 'diffusing' him. I stopped competing him and just had fun learning the coordination of aids and feel.

Elvis and I playing around on a summer evening

5 years after we moved, my dad passed away from blood cancer and Elvis became my saviour. I would go out and cry into his coat, ride him out on the trails and climb up steep cliffs, stand atop look outs and just breathe. I'd ride him bareback with no shoes and feel his coat between my toes and anchor myself back to earth through him.

With me moving into dressage, I purchased a young horse and gradually eased Elvis into retirement. Even then I would take him for the odd bareback ride, where he’d flick his head around in enjoyment at being the ‘chosen one’. I even dinkied my sister on him to grab some rakes from a back paddock after him not being ridden for years and then on our way back to the house professed to my sister “I don’t think he’s actually ever had more than one person on him before”.

Elvis was as stereotypically gay as a horse can get. If he was human, he’d be the flamboyant dramatic type that always put on a show, but one of the kindest you’d meet.

It was always all about Elvis and continued throughout his retirement until his untimely passing at 27yo. Elvis’s death rocked me to my core and it snowballed into one of my darkest times where I completely stepped back from horses for over a year.

Elvis was the horse that never failed to make me laugh. The horse I could play jokes with. And the horse who always had his eyes on me, predominantly making sure he had my attention, which he always did.

(Some old photos from the archives. I never got any good shots of Elvis because he was straight up in my face as soon as he saw me.)