Oct 5 2014
We are no longer pony-less.
Rocky arrived last Monday.
Arrived sounds weird — like FedEx deposited him on the front porch. I retrieved him that day. And home from school, the girls bolted to the barn to see their new pony.
But his stall was empty.
In my absence, Rocky scuttled under his stall guard and ran into the front field.
The kids spent 15 minutes chasing runaway-Rocky — unsuccessfully — until I armed them with a bucket of grain.
Ponies are inherently crafty and cunning, and Rocky will teach the girls a thing or two. But overall, he’s a good-natured soul. Oddly enough, I knew him 10 years ago. Actually, he lived at our farm for a summer.
Here’s my friend Hunter riding him, circa 2004. Rocky was 6 years old. None of our kids existed yet.
And it’s not like I followed Rocky, or knew what happened to him through the years. But the horse world is like “6 degrees of separation.”
But more like 2 degrees of separation. Everyone knows everyone, hence the Rocky reunion.
In less than a week, he’s displayed a tolerance of sheep dog herding, skittish cows, kids on bikes and other nonsense.
My one complaint: Rocky’s too much of a good thing.
Brynn has been incorrigible since he arrived; she just wants to ride. Her teacher reported that she was “unmanageable” on Tuesday. And Wednesday morning Brynn announced that she was sick. “My head,” she said. “It hurts. I’m sick.”
“You can stay home,” I said, then added, “but you can’t ride Rocky. If you’re sick, you can’t ride.”
She frowned. “Okay, then I’m not sick.”
It’s amazing how fast a pony can cure what ails you…