SPRING EDITION APRIL 2015 Like us on COMMUNITY LINK The Westside News TY INSIDE Merchant, service provider and business offers and promoons of all kinds. Check them out! SPECIAL FEATURES Essays and photos: Member of the family Pup goes into training for therapy status Raising rabbits More than my cat -- also my protector! Granddogs for millenials “Pet Lovers” LINKed as friends companions soulmates
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SPRING EDITION APRIL 2015Like us on
Community LinkThe Westside News
ty
INSIDEMerchant, serviceprovider andbusiness offersand promotionsof all kinds. Check them out!
SPECIAL FEATURESEssays and photos:
Member of the family
Pup goes into trainingfor therapy status
Raising rabbits
More than my cat --also my protector!
Granddogs for millenials
“Pet Lovers” LINKed as
friends
companions
soulmates
2 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015
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Can we take the kids to look at puppies?by Leisa Strabel
Our children were ages five and two the day my mother asked if she and my dad could take the kids to look at puppies. I should have changed my phone number, locked the doors and turned off the lights. But I hesitated and in that moment it was over. I said some-thing like, “Mom, we’re really not thinking about getting a dog.”
My mother assured me, “I know. We’re not going to get a puppy, we just want to take the kids to look.” Just a note - my children were the only two grand-children then (and for several years to come). To say my parents were doting grandparents would be a massive understatement.
So the grandparents and grandchildren went to look, just look. Yes, we got the pup-py. To be fair, he was the cutest puppy ever born – the runt of a litter of springer/cocker spaniel mix; a tiny ball of black fur with a white streak from his muzzle down his chest and stomach – like a reverse skunk stripe; and the biggest brown eyes.
De-flea-ing him was the first adventure. How could a puppy small enough to fit in my husband’s palm, have so many fleas? He tripped over blades of grass in the newly mowed yard, yet he could carry a bushel full of fleas into the house.
The next adventure was naming him. Our five year-old son wor-shipped super heroes. His name choices for the puppy were Batman or Zorro. Our two year-old worshipped her big brother which meant her name choices were Batman or Zorro. We couldn’t imagine calling out, “Come here, Batman” or registering “Zorro” for obedience class-es. So I managed to convince the kids that Lucky was the best name a dog could have.
We all know that children say they’ll help with a dog. Five year-old Greg did help. He filled Lucky’s water dish (and slopped water all over the hardwood floors). He filled Lucky’s food dish (and dropped a few pieces down the register each time). He took Lucky outside. They would come back in and I would ask, “did Lucky do his business?” Before Greg could answer, Lucky did his busi- ness … on the kitchen floor.
Carly helped as a two-year old can. She hugged Lucky a little too tight. She fed him anything she was eating. She tried to put him in her stroller.
Two weeks into Lucky’s adoption, I cried to my husband, “I can’t do this anymore.” I was up half the night with the whining puppy and the other half with Carly who never slept more than two hours at a time. But like these things do, they eventually passed. Lucky and Carly learned to sleep through the night. Lucky learned to do his busi-ness outside, mostly. And I learned to ignore the perpetually wet floor around the dog bowl.
Lucky grew into an enormously affectionate, loyal dog who was fiercely protective of his family. Seems like my parents knew what they were doing that day – even if they were only going to look.
Greg Strabel with Lucky shortly after Lucky was adopted.
Lucky -- affectionate, loyal, cute, protective.
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6 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015
My pet and protectorby David Hull
I’ve never considered myself an ‘animal person’ and that was especially true with Atlas, my neighbors’ gigantic, vicious dog. He lived down the street and everyone in the neighborhood was afraid of that beast. Atlas especially despised me; he barked when I got the mail and chased me when I rode past on my bike. I always made sure to stay clear of that snarling menace.
Not being an animal person didn’t matter to Claude though. The cat showed up on my porch on a windy, wet autumn morning. He was a scraggly-looking, orange furred critter who appeared out of nowhere and refused to leave.
I first saw the cat sitting on the front steps as I was leaving for work. I frowned and waved him away. “Go home,” I commanded; he ignored me. Why would this cat show up at my house, I wondered?
When I came home from work, the cat was still there. That night there was a terrible thunderstorm; when I peeked out the window, the cat was huddled on the doormat, attempting to stay dry.
Now, this cat desperately needed a home – just not my home. And it obviously couldn’t stay with the neighbors either; Atlas would eat him. But why had he chosen me?
Three days later, the cat was still on the porch. A heavy frost was predicted that night. I couldn’t take it anymore – I invited the cat inside and gave him some tuna fish and a bowl of milk. He gobbled the food, then wandered into the living room, jumped to the corner of the couch, curled up and went to sleep. Still, I had no idea why this cat would want to live at my house.
I named him Claude and we quickly adjusted to life together. I fed him every morning. In the evenings he snoozed on the couch while
I watched TV. For the first few weeks, I tried to find a friend or rela-tive that might adopt the cat, but no one was interested. It made no sense that Claude would live with me.
When winter finally melted into spring that year, Claude came outside one Saturday morning to nap on the porch railing while I worked in my garden in front of the house. While I pulled weeds, spread mulch and planted flowers, Claude snoozed away perched in the sunshine.
I was transplanting a row of marigolds, intent on my work, when I got the strangest feeling - that uncomfortable sensation that some-one, something, was watching me.
Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with snarling Atlas. The dog had wandered into my yard un-noticed and now there was nothing I could do. I was stuck on my hands and knees, the growling dog block-ing my path to the door. I knew I was going to get bitten … or worse.
Suddenly, without warning, a hissing orange blur rocketed off the porch railing and Claude pounced on the dog’s back, clinging there. Atlas turned his attention from me, spun around in a circle and ran across the yard. The terrified dog ran back home, howling loudly, with Claude affixed to his back.
A few minutes later, Claude returned to the porch, hopped up on the railing and dozed back to sleep. I finished planting my flowers, feeling secure and well-protected.
It was at that point I figured out why this cat had come to live with me. Claude was obviously my guardian cat and from then on, with him around, I’ve always been a bit safer.
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From puppy to therapy dog ... the journeyby Dianne Hickerson
Have you ever wondered what it would take to train your dog for therapy work? Well, I am about to begin that process with our new puppy, Gracie. Gracie is an 11 week old Aussie-doodle. Her mother, an Australian Shepherd, gave her a loyal, sweet and playful nature. Her father, a Standard French Poodle, made her non-shedding, a very desirable quality for a therapy dog.
Gracie came from Bad Axe, Michigan. Bad Axe is a very rural town, so removed from civilization that my GPS had not even mapped the area. But the drive was well worth it. Gracie is sweet, obedi-ent, gentle, and she loves everyone she meets.
Just what is a therapy dog? A therapy dog brings the love of animals to people in hospitals and nursing homes. So many of these residents spent a lifetime loving their canine companions, and they miss their pets. A visit from a therapy dog can brighten their day and lift their spirits. It has been clinically proven that through petting, touching and talking with dogs, patients’ blood pressure is lowered, stress is relieved and depression is eased.
Therapy dogs can also visit schools and libraries as a reading partner for young children. The “Tail Waggin’ Tutors” pro-gram encourages children to read to a furry friend, one who won’t laugh if they make a mistake but will lie next to them, enjoying the story and wagging their tail.
Since I have already trained two thera-py dogs in the past, working with Gracie will be a familiar journey. My first therapy dog, Mikey, visited the residents of Beikirch Care Center in Brockport every week for seven years.
My second therapy dog, Jesse, is currently visiting Beikirch each week, bringing smiles to the faces of so many elderly residents. One resident had suffered a stroke and had diffi-culty using her right arm. Her speech was also affected. When Jesse entered her room, she seemed to forget about her in-firmities and she reached out with her right arm to pet him, then spoke to him with ease. The therapist was amazed.
Another resident was depressed on the day of our visit. Jesse sensed her mood and went to her with big kisses. She laughed and laughed. When I tried to pull Jesse away, she said, “No don’t stop. I haven’t laughed like this in years.”
Working with therapy dogs is very rewarding. The people
we visit have led rich, rewarding, interesting, challenging, complicated lives. They love Jesse’s visits and they enjoy the opportunity to talk with someone other than employees at the nursing home.
But how do I begin to train Gracie for therapy work? Thankfully, she has already met a major requirement. A good
therapy dog must be friendly, patient, confident, gentle, and enjoy human contact. A therapy dog’s primary job is to allow unfamiliar people to hug them.
The first thing Gracie has done is at-tend Puppy Kindergarten, (began April 11), where she learns basic manners and simple commands. That will be followed by classes at Petsmart Acad-emy, where she will work on advanced behaviors and impressive tricks. Upon graduation, she will pursue her higher education, earning her CDC (Canine Good Citizen) degree, which is the gold standard for dog behavior.
Next will come the challenge of qualifying as a therapy dog. To do this she will need to take a special class designed to teach both the dog and the handler everything they need to know to be a successful team. After eight weeks of working together, the dog and handler take the final test.
The final test includes thirteen dif-ferent scenarios, such as dropping pots and pans on the floor to see if the dog is too skittish, walking through a crowd of people with ease, approach-ing people with infirmities without fear, encountering umbrellas and balloons with certainty, as well as obeying basic commands. The segment which always worries me most is when a tempting
treat, like a McDonald’s hamburger, is placed on the ground and I order the dog to “leave it.” That command is especially important in a hospital or nursing home setting, where a pill might be accidently dropped on the floor. The dog must “leave it.”
It will take more than a year for Gracie to become a four-legged therapist. It will be a long and demanding journey, but a journey filled with love and hope for the future when she and I will bring comfort and companionship to so many people. Since receiving puppy kisses may be one of the best therapies of all, she is already well on her way to providing comfort and affection as a certified therapy dog.
Gracie, an Aussiedoodle, with her mom, Dianne HIckerson.
Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015 9
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10 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015
Raising rabbits for 4-H --makes them part of the familyby Kristina Gabalski
The Easter Bunny is a part of our household all year long - that’s because our children raise rabbits as part of their participation in the Orleans County 4-H Rabbit Raisers Club.
Technically, the bunnies are not pets, they are 4-H projects, but they are still a part of the family. They live in their own shed, or rabbitry - unless we have a doe expecting a litter of kits in the winter - then our basement becomes a bunny maternity ward.
We typically have anywhere between 20 and 30 rabbits at any given time. Our kids breed and raise American Fuzzy Lops, Havanas and Californians - a large meat rabbit breed.
People unfamiliar with domestic rabbits are usually incredulous when we tell them of the difficulties we’ve encountered in the breeding process. Rabbits are supposed to breed like ... well ... rabbits, but it’s amazing some of the problems and disappointments faced by domestic breeds in their reproductive efforts.
Many times we are certain the process has gone well, only to find that after the month-long gestation period, the doe was not pregnant (I’ve suggested the buck and doe go to dinner and a movie before breeding, or candles, wine and some Barry White music, but so far, no one has taken my suggestion seriously).
Other times, the breeding is successful, but the doe gives birth on the cage wire instead of in her nesting box and most or all of the litter does not survive.
Sometimes a litter will be doing well and suddenly the kits will die. Sometimes the doe has difficulty because instead of a litter of small babies, she only has one that has grown to be very large before birth. This March, the kids worked diligently to save a litter of nine
Californian bunnies whose mother is lacking greatly in maternal instincts. She refuses to care for her little brood, so the babies are being kept in a separate cage in their nest box and three times a day, my 16-year old daughter holds mama rabbit on her back while my 14-year old son and 11-year old daughter help the kits to nurse three at a time.
Busy weekends have been a challenge. The kids have had to get up before dawn to make sure the kits get a feeding before heading off to activities, church or family gatherings which will keep them out for long periods of time.
We lost three of the kits in the first week. The remaining six are growing and appear to be doing well - although we won’t be sure if they’ll survive for a while yet. Amazingly, the runt of the litter has so far survived.
Our bunnies can be a challenge at times, but caring for them has helped teach our children the self-sacrifice necessary when the life and well-being of a dependent creature is in their hands.
Weeks before the holiday we had a bowl of Easter Bunnies. Shown here are three kits from the Californian litter that got lots of TLC since their mom isn’t interested. In this photo, the bunnies are two-weeks-old and their eyes were just starting to open. K. Gabalski photo.
Eight-year old Hugh Gabalski with his bunny, Corin, a Netherland Dwarf. K. Gabalski photo.
Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015 11
For the love of a dogby Grace Griffee
I recently found a quote by Thom Jones, American author, on Pinterest, the source for all of the great knowledge in the world, which describes my relationship with Abbey: “Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them … and filling an emptiness we don’t even know we have.”
Honestly, I didn’t know much about Pomeranians until I saw one at the Windmill Farm and Craft Market in Penn Yan. I have no idea why, but every time I go there, I seem to spot a pom. Despite how I would have loved to adopt one of those fluffy, fawn-faced pups, I filed the thought of dog ownership in the back of my mind. The timing just wasn’t right. I was starting graduate school and working 32 hours a week. My son was in his senior year. There was just too much going on in my life to think about taking on the responsibility of an-other life.
It wasn’t long after that I hatched the plan – I would adopt a dog as a graduation present to myself.
With about 10 months under my belt, I was beginning the toughest part of my program. Yet, I couldn’t help but find the time to check the want ads every now and then. I knew I wanted to rescue, not buy, but at the time I had no idea that animal rescue sites, like PetFinder, existed.
It was an afternoon in mid-July that I saw the ad – female Pomeranian – check; spayed – check; up to date on shots – check; fawn colored – check. This was my dream dog. I called the number in the ad. The woman who answered said that she was a breeder and that Abbey, at nearly seven years old, was too old to continue breeding.
Purchased from someone in Kansas, Abbey had a family tree that could be traced back further than my own. In fact, her father, Merritt’s Denver, was a champion. The woman explained that Abbey was the dog that started her business. Having given birth to four litters, she was described as a good mother and even tempered – and probably had made several thousand dollars for her owner.
At first I thought, how can you get rid of a dog just because she can’t make money for your business anymore? But in reality, Abbey was a happy, healthy, well-adjusted dog. The $100 that the woman wanted for her was, in fact, the best $100 I’ve ever spent in my life.
The Sunday morning drive out to Ontario in the pouring rain seemed to take forever. But the decision to adopt Abbey didn’t. I could only imagine what the poor animal was think-ing as I scooped her into my arms and we drove away from the home she had known for nearly seven years. Having only ridden in the car for vet appointments, she was terrified.
That night, I strategically placed the ratty bed that was giv-en to me on the floor next to my bed. “It’s her favorite,” the woman had told me. Just in case, I brought out two more pet beds because everyone likes choices, right? Abbey surveyed
her options, took one look at me, hopped on the bed and promptly curled up on the pillow. And that is where she’s slept ever since.
Abbey’s even temperament shone through as she adapted to life as a single, white female. She learned how to walk on a lead and acted like a celebrity when she did. She enjoyed being switched to a premium dog food. And she slept like “The Princess and the Pea” atop two fluffy pillows – minus the pea.
What lay ahead for me over the next few years were many life changes – losses and gains and fights for that which is truly important to me. Abbey was a constant. No matter what door I walked through, she was there to greet me.
Even when there were no outward signs, there were times when Abbey sensed my angst so much that it made her physically ill. It was almost as if she was trying to absorb all of the negative energy into her 11-pound body. She had the intuition of a mother.
But like the George Harrison song, “All things must pass.” Times are good again and my little dog, now 13 years old, is still by my side. Ironically, she never gets sick anymore and I’ve been told that she has the physique of a six year old.
Long live Princess Abbey.
Abbey, a Pomeranian.
12 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015
by Leisa Strabel
I have a granddog. No grandchildren in sight but I do have a granddog. And I’m not alone. Maybe it’s because our children, the millennials, are delaying having children or choosing not to have children at all. But that primal need to love, nurture, care for a living creature that is helpless must be fulfilled. A less expensive, less time-consuming, less career-altering alternative to a human baby is a dog.
The millennials are doing it differently than our parents did. They are not buying pets. They are adopting family members. My father made that mistake when he referred to my daughter’s dog as a pet. “Papa,” my daughter replied indignantly, “Zorro is not a pet, he is a member of our family.” My father, the owner of several dogs during his 73 years, stood corrected.
Zorro is definitely not a pet. He was adopted from a shelter in Corpus Christi at the age of five months. He had been abused, ad-opted once and returned because of behavioral issues. His sad be-ginning, reflected in his eyes and nervousness, went straight to my
daughter’s heart. And so began Carly and Scott’s dog par-enting.
Like parents of new humans, they fretted over the proper bedding, the most nutritious food (organic, no fillers or by-prod-ucts), the right safety equipment (leash, collar and crate) and the age appropriate social interaction (play groups, play dates and dog park visits). Zorro has even gone through the pro-cess, twice, of being accepted into dog-
gie day care. Acceptance included an application, observation and evaluation. Of course my granddog passed with flying colorings.
Our first visit to Carly and Scott’s home after Zorro’s arrival began with a list of rules – how we could play with Zorro, how we could talk to him; how long and where he was allowed to walk outside. Like grandparents of new humans, we were amused. Did our daugh-ter not realize we’d done this before?
Zorro won us over pretty quickly. It was hard not to succumb when we saw how attached he was to our daughter. Our son-in-law tries to play the disciplinarian but with Carly firmly wrapped around Zorro’s paw, Scott has to pick and choose which battles to fight. Yes, Zorro eventually won the battle to sleep in their bed.
My friend Kris Coon has two granddogs, Olly and Mira, and a grandcat, Silus. Her daughter and son-in-law are devoted parents to their rescues who fit into their busy schedules the way that human babies might not. Although Kris expects that she will be a grand-mother to humans someday, for now she is all-in on being grandma to the dogs and cat. In fact at Christmas, Olly, Mira and Silus have just as many gifts under the tree as Kris’s human kids.
Seth and Melissa Martino are 30-somethings who have yet to take the plunge into human parenthood. However, a few years ago they decided to adopt a Chihuahua puppy, Chico. After their first night and zero sleep, Seth took Chico to his parents, handed them the hy-per pup and said, “I’ve been up all night, I have to get some sleep.” He plopped on the couch as new grandma Sharon asked, “Will he go to the bathroom in the house?” “Constantly,” Seth replied as he rolled over and went to sleep.
As grandma Sharon and grandpa Jonathan tell it now, they can’t remember how they survived that first encounter, but they do know this – they are in love with their granddog. They dog sit often, have Chico over for sleepovers and pamper him at Christmas with his Martha Stewart stocking full of treats, toys and clothing.
For now, we grandparents of granddogs must be content spoiling four-legged furry offspring. Our granddogs may end up being our only progeny or they may end up being forerunners to two-legged smooth-skinned descendants. Either way, I’ll enjoy Zorro’s slobbery kisses and playfulness along with the naughty antics that sometimes try my daughter’s patience and sanity. After all, isn’t that part of the joy of grandparenting – watching our children deal with the problems they inflicted upon us? Go ahead Zorro, be a little naughty, grandma loves you.
Carly and Zorrow
Scott with family member Zorro.
No grandchildren, but we do have a granddog ...
Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015 13
Linked by pets: a tailless cat and a retired racerby Terra Osterling
Morning begins with the dispensing of medications. Special meals for delicate stomachs are served, then commences the long naps. A loud throat-clearing, a gentle nudge, then a not so gentle shake, barely rouses. I often stand by watching for signs of breathing.
We have elderly pets. Our greyhound, Valentina, is 13 years old. Elsa, our cat, is nearly 17 years old. Both started out need-ing rescuing, and are spoiled as the pets of a child-free household.
Elsa was born free, like her namesake, just outside the door of the rural office where I worked. She was really rescued twice in the first weeks of her life. Mama Cat, reliable for her daily feedings, disap-peared one day well into gestation. A co-worker and I knew kitten time was close and that Mama Cat must be in trouble. Searching the campus of our workplace, we followed faint mewing into a dark barn and found Mama Cat tangled in a pile of old nets. We cut her free and fed her lots of food and water … just hours before she gave birth!
The smallest and tailless, Elsa was the runt, but every bit a feral cat that first year of her life: A biter, a scratcher, a wall-climber, a mischief-maker. I still own a plas-tic kitchen utensil that bears her needle-sharp teeth marks. But, she was terribly cute, and my first pet, all my own.
Elsa, with the small puff of her tail nub, engages visitors with an affectionate vigor that has always puzzled me, her mistress, protector, source of food – and favorite human to spurn. “What happened to her tail?” Nothing, she was born that way (Papa Cat was a bob tail!)
Valentina, a greyhound, was born at a dog racing track in Melbourne, Florida. Her name was given by her track owner, but was the obvious choice when we ad-opted her through a local rescue group, arriving on Valentine’s Day 2004. Though already 2 years old, as a retired racer she had to learn everything – how to climb
stairs, what is window glass?, housebreak-ing, walking on a leash, what is that small furry thing hissing at me?
Greyhounds are known for their high prey-drive, and Valentina tested ‘cat safe,’ but we were advised to discourage any in-terest she might show in Elsa. No worries there; for the first several months, Valenti-na would avert her eyes, turn around, and seek another route through a room should Elsa be glaring nearby.
Valentina, an undignified goof, looks sleek and regal. “Is she fast?” Yes, she can be fast enough to snatch a squirrel right off a tree (true story). “Does she need a lot of exercise?” No, greyhounds are sprinters, always storing up energy – a breed aptly nicknamed the 40 mph couch potato.
Elsa and Valentina both exercise respect-ful aloofness, if not subdued affection, making for a decade of peaceful coexis-tence. Valentina did once step in to rescue Elsa from the mad pursuit of a party hat, when the elastic became encircled around her cat waist. No amount of running, throughout the house, upstairs and down, eluded the hat. Only with her greyhound vision, speed, and reflexes could Valentina expertly grab just the hat as the fur and foil blur streaked by.
Now, we carry on with the caretaking, which is what loyal pet owners do when their furry beloveds face their twilight. It is now that the highest responsibility of pet ownership comes full circle: Valentina and Elsa have never been more dependent on us. And I suspect that when they cross the rainbow bridge, we will feel like we never needed them more.
Elsa
Valentina
14 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015
Advance prep makes dog adoption easier
(StatePoint) Dogs play a special role in a home, bringing laugh-ter, love and warmth. But dog ownership comes with great re-sponsibility and there are many things to consider before begin-ning the adoption process.
Just as a home needs to be prepped for the arrival of a new baby, you must also make preparations for dog adoption. In fact, many shelters will even check whether your home is suitable for dog ownership with a site visit before approving your applica-tion.
If you’re a homeowner, be sure to take steps to make your home more dog-friendly.
Decide in advance which rooms of the house your dog will be allowed to enter. Baby gates may be an option and work well as barriers for dogs. Have all the necessary items for your dog ready for his or her arrival - a leash, collar, crate and toys.
Areas of the home that contain dangerous substances should also be safeguarded. For example, medications and cleaning sup-plies should be stored securely.
If you’ve never owned a dog before, you may not have paid much attention to your neighborhood’s dog parks, trails and walk-able routes. Study these locations in advance so there are no questions on day one.
Between six and eight million cats and dogs enter shelters each year, and 2.7 million adoptable cats and dogs are euthanized in such shelters annually, according to the Humane Society. Rather than buying a dog from a breeder, check out your local animal shelter.
“Adoption has become the preferred way to find a new dog, puppy, cat or kitten,” says Abbie Moore, Executive Director, Adopt-a-Pet.com. “Not only is this often a more affordable route, but you are saving a life in the process.”
You should already have identified the veterinarian you plan to use before taking your dog home, as a dog’s medical care should begin immediately after adoption.
Remember to budget for dog ownership. Beyond regular sup-plies, food, vaccinations and check-ups, add in some padding as an emergency fund.
As every dog lover knows, there is nothing quite like coming home after a long day and being greeted by man’s best friend. With a dog adoption, you can make your home an even more wel-coming, comfortable place.
Publisher.................................................Keith A. Ryan
Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015 15
-- horses and a corgi in springtime --a photo essay by Grace GriffeeThese photos were taken at Troyers Equimeadows LLC on Peck Rd. in Hilton. The 50-acre horse farm is home
to riding trails and an arena, and offers year-round riding for ages six and older, boarding, lessons, camps, clubs, parties and group events. Supervising all activities is Stuey, the corgi.
16 Westside News Community Link - Spring Edition 2015