Time to smile: funny Champ stories

I've cried, and I know I will more, but now... Now it's time to laugh. I'll show you why he was such a huge presence in my life.

Nicknames
Chimp Champ Chump, Mr Four White Socks, Mr Flappy Lip, Mister, the Big Stud, the King, Doofus, Doofus Head, Blockhead, Old Boy, La Goon, the Big Goof

Flappy Lip
That bottom lip was always moving. In fact his whole mouth was always moving. He liked to lip my clothes. I shouldn’t have let him do that, but he didn’t use his teeth. He was full of nervous energy and it seemed to settle him down. It’s also a domination behaviour. Oh well.

When I’d get out his bridle the lip would start flapping as soon as he saw it. Bupbupbupbupbup. His teeth would still be clenched but there was that flappy lip. He even did it when I’d slip the halter over his face.
His top lip went side to side when he was searching out something to eat. I would catch him brushing his top lip on the bar of his stall too. He got bored easily. Had to find something to do. I think if he'd been human he'd have been a chain smoker.

Drama Queen
He did have a few legit injuries in his life, but he made a much bigger deal out of the little incidents. The kids joked that a hangnail could wreck his whole day. If he was being watched, he’d play up to the attention.

He had no hesitation to show you his displeasure, especially if it was your fault. If you didn’t get out there to the barn on time he’d be mighty agitated. Oh man, if you got there too late and he already took a pee in his nice clean stall...that’d be one ugly look he’d give you.

Taking a Wiz
Speaking of which, he was very particular about his elimination habits. I’ve never met a cleaner horse. It was quite nice, actually. When he had to take a wiz it was a full on production. It took at least five minutes and we’d roll credits at the end. What a show. He’d slowly and carefully place his hind legs as far apart and out behind as he could, lift his tail, and --wait for it!--I swear his eyes would glaze over. Then, he’d be lettin it rip, and near the end, I kid you not, he’d grunt. A long low grunt of contentment. If he could’ve scratched his balls he would have. Oh but that’s not all. He’d start walking with his dink still hanging, so as to let the drips shake off better. A few wide legged pee-shaking steps and then everything was normal. All that to keep the white socks sparkly white.

Red Arrows and Mailboxes
Did you know that mailboxes eat horses? it’s true. It’s a good thing he warned me about that on each and every ride down the road. Never once did he let his guard down. I can’t tell you how many times his vigilance saved our lives.

We used to go on an organized trail ride every spring. It was a fundraiser for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation and ran a 4-5 hour route through farms and small towns in Mennonite country (not Mennonite like me, the car driving kind, but the cape dress wearing, buggy driving kind.) One year, he trotted almost the entire ride. Everyone else struggled to keep up and after 4 hours he looked like he was ready to start off on the ride. The trail was marked in some places by red arrows staked into the ground, at about a horse’s knee height. Every single arrow, every one of them, was reason for alarm. He had a way of dropping out from underneath me and ending up two feet beside. Somehow I stayed on. Every arrow. All of them. A ride with him was never boring.

Water=Acid
He also knew that he would melt if exposed to water. Rain was unpleasant but it was okay, and he could dip his flappy lips into water to drink, but if it got anywhere else on his body, he’d die. That including trough overflow. Part of that was his reluctance to get his four pearly whites dirty but of course he was saving his skin from that evil water. Miraculously, he survived more than a few showers. He was a show horse for a few years, you know. He always had a sour look on his face after a shower though.
This extended to hoses too. Hoses are actually horse eating snakes.

Delicate Eater
Champ liked to push all the hay stalks out of the way and eat the leafy bits first. He also enjoyed dipping a little hay into his water bucket and making tea. Such a gentleman. For all of his mouthiness he never once bit the hand that fed him.

Rolling with it
It was our first saddle club show. We’d just embarrassed our way through a western pleasure class which had him sideways for most of it and me perplexed. Total brain shut down. At the end of the class we all lined up to face the judge, when the ground got closer. My stirrups were touching the dirt! I stepped off his back, the reins still in one hand, and stared at him. He was fixin to have a nice little roll in the dirt! “Champ! what are you doing? Get up!” He paused, looked at me for a second, blinked, and then got back up to his feet, looking rather sheepish. Yeah, the judge noticed.

"Is he a stud?"
I bought him from a girl who’d only owned him for two months. Over the years I began to suspect that he’d been gelded not long before that. He had the big thick neck, the social responses (what we referred to as "givin mares the Hey Baby"), and the attitude of a stud horse.
Being a gelding didn’t stop him from enjoying studly benefits. When I briefly boarded him out after Jethro and I got married, I was faced down by an irate mare owner who wanted me to get a Vet out and test my horse for an undescended testicle or something, because my horse was banging his horse!! He didn’t want no bastard Half-Arabian babies coming out of his Quarter Horse mare!
He may not have had any balls but it sure takes ‘em to copulate in a field in plain view of the highway.

"Champ! Champ is here!"
He was not an affectionate horse, but he would agree to tolerate affection. At one of the last horse shows we entered, I heard the above shout and three ponytailed pre-teen girls ran up to pat him. I wasn’t even sure of all their names and yet here they were adoring my horse. He stood there, smug, eyes half closed, soaking it up. Autographs, anybody?

Watchdog with Hooves
Dad figured if that horse ever figured out how to run heavy equipment, he’d take over.
If somebody brought a horse trailer to the shop for some welding, there was Champ right up at the fence, tail up, ears up, like he was ready to go! Nothing got past him. He paid attention to the goings on.He was always on the lookout to protect his tiny herd.

"Nicest horse here..."
I think it was the first class we’d ever entered, ever, either of us. It was at a fall fair. Our class ran right beside the sheep pen and damn if he was gonna let his guard down around those woolly freaks! That entire side of the ring, he was basically sidepassing at all three gaits, which believe me, was extremely awkward at a lope. We came in dead last. If possible we would have been laster than last. But the judge, an elderly gentleman who went all the way down the line up with comments as he handed out the ribbons, stopped at the end of the line, empty handed, and smiled at me. “I just want you to know that I had to place you last, but if I had my pick of any one of these horses to take home with me today, I’d pick this one. He’s the nicest horse here. He just needs a lot of work.”
I never forgot that.


Look at Me!
And finally, a story that will sum him up quite nicely.
Being half Arabian, he always carried his tail up and away when he moved. It went along with the pretty arched neck. Even if he was just sauntering over to the water trough, he carried his tail up. Sometimes my Dad rode Champ on the trail and I’d ride whatever other horse we had, who was usually some kind of training project. I’d get a chance to watch Champ move from another angle, which I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. I noticed something. He didn’t just pick up his tail, he lifted it kind of off to one side. It was almost like he was saying, “Yes, do look at me. I am gorgeous, aren’t I? So shiny and magnificent. I carry my neck and tail with such pride. And oh- what’s this? Oh my, look, it’s my a**hole! Ha ha! Made you look!”

Ah gosh, I did love him!!!!