The story of the stray Pony

Prince Edward and a stable hand lead his daughter, Lady Louise on a pony ride. There's more pics HERE if you're interested. I really wasn't, but, I love the fact that his kid has the title, Lady Louise. That's fancy. But, that picture reminded me of the first horse we ever owned. Pony. That little black one in the front, with no rider, looks like Pony. Pony was smaller though.

I remember the first time I saw Pony. I was moving into an old trailer house in the middle of nowhere, carrying in boxes, and I spotted a small black horse in the pasture. I wondered briefly, who it belonged to, since the rent included the pasture and two old barns. But, I put it out of my mind, I was busy. Two days later I was finally moved in and that meant bringing 'my' dogs. The reason I'd moved to this forsaken place anyway, was the dogs. I'd had an animal lover brain fart previously when a customer brought two big dogs to the bar, chained in the back of a truck. The dogs had been ordered by the town to be put down. They were dangerous. They hadn't actually hurt anyone though, that was the rub. They just got loose constantly and terrorized. They were huge and scary. Well, you just know I had to go out there and take a look at them. They didn't seem so bad to me ( I could even pet the smaller one) and it hurt my heart that they had an impending death sentence. They had to be legally surrendered in a week. The owner was desperately looking for an alternative to get them out of town. I'd been wanting to get out of town for awhile anyway and without really thinking it out, I said, "I'll take them! I'll find a place".  I don't know what I was thinking, I wasn't thinking, I guess. Well, another customer offered me cheap rent on an old trailer on his farm land that he said his wife wouldn't live in in a million years. Oh, yeah, that sounds good, doesn't it?

I'd spent a week taming one dog down. She was a St. Bernard and growly as hell. But, she came around and I could trust her off a chain. The other dog, her accomplice, was a male, half German Shepard and half Great Dane. He was cunning, but, not mean. Not to me anyway. Both of them got on with my small daughter. It didn't surprise me, that kid has always had a way with animals. Usually, if you have a country place, you need a good dog. In this case, I had dogs, I needed a place far away from people. This place wasn't much, but, it was far away from people, that's for sure.

So, one of the first things the dogs did was attack the pony. This was my first clue that they really were dangerous. (Umm, besides having to feed the big one at the end of a logging chain for a week.) I'd never seen anything like that, except on the Nature Channel Serengeti programs. They went for his flanks, jumping up and hanging on, planning on taking him down. The poor horse went in circles kicking at them from behind and bucking furiously, but, there were two of them and combined, they might have weighed more than he did. It was close anyhow. I ran, heart pounding, jumped the fence and waded in. I literally pulled them off, kicking them and cussing. I gave them a real dressing down and to their credit, they listened. (They never bothered the pony again. I think they were smarter than I'd given them credit for originally.) They retreated, off to explore more trouble, and I finally got my first close look at the pony. He had some minor scratches, but, they hadn't broken his tough hide. He was a Gelding, you could see that. He was sort of fancy looking, he had a long, thick mane and tail of beautiful black hair, but, he was crippled. He'd been foundered long ago and his hooves had grown out and curled over so much that they were digging into his front legs. His Fetlocks, to be precise. It was bizarre and gross. No wonder he moved slow. He was very friendly though, once he overcame his fear of the dogs. He loved people. I don't know why, since he'd been treated so shabbily. I looked for food stored somewhere and came up empty handed. I checked his water trough and found nothing but chunky, flaking rust. It had been empty a long time. I drug out the hose and fixed that. He was extremely grateful. I remember the grass in the yard was dead and hadn't been mowed in awhile, so I got a rake out and raked him a pile of 'emergency' food. It was nothing, but, plain old yard grass and weeds, hardly suitable, but, he dived in like it was a feast. I remember being so pissed off at how hungry he was. How long had he been here, trapped and alone?? I was just pissed off and shocked and determined to find out who had done this to him.

I asked the landlord who owned the pony and he said, umm, you do, I guess. WTF? He said the horse had belonged to a former tenant, he didn't remember which one. I asked who took care of him?? He said, 'Oh, I toss him something when I'm out that way, but, I aint out that way much.' Really? Again, WTF? No one had lived in this place for months. ( I found out later, the landlord was a big liar.) By this time I discovered that Pony had been eating tree bark to survive. All the saplings in the neglected pasture were stripped at horse level. Needless to say, there was not one blade of grass left anywhere. That was too much. I called on help from my old fart morning coffee drinking customers, a lot of them were retired farmers, and got some small hay bales of good quality. I hauled them home from the bar in the open trunk of my Mustang. Real country. Cough. Pony was so happy to be eating decently again, it broke my heart. It just broke my heart. Poor little lonely pony. He was such a nice, sweet animal, how could anyone do that to him? Finding a stray dog or cat is one thing, that's common, but, a stray pony?? I'd later come to find out it's not actually that uncommon. Isn't that crazy and sad? Anyway, I told the landlord, if that's my pony, I'll take him. He said, good riddance..but, he's crippled.

I asked a lot of questions to my old farmer friends about horses and foundered horses. I was advised by some on how to kill a pony quickly with one shot. (uhh, no. And gross.) The harder ones said, it was the right thing to do, he should be put down if he's in pain. But, the ones that understood me told me you CAN fix a foundered horse. The problem is, once it's foundered, it's always foundered and you have to keep doing it often, for the horse's life span. That can get expensive...unless you learn to do it yourself. I wanted him fixed. I was put in touch with a soft hearted woman Ferrier who agreed to come look at him. I waited until payday and I knew the fee would hurt. But, he was MY pony. She took one look at Pony and shook her head. Please, can you fix him?? Please?? She went to her truck and came back with a hacksaw. I shit you not, a hacksaw. She spent the next two hours patiently sawing his deformed hoofs out of his legs. He let her. She said he was the sweetest horse she'd ever worked on. The two of us slowly pulled the severed hooves out of his hide. It was awful and it had to be painful. He barely complained. We treated his wounds with some antiseptic and Bag Balm and she also told me he could never wear shoes. That was okay, we lived on a dirt road. She also gave me the bad news that he would need a modified version of her technique every two weeks for life. When I looked crestfallen, she told me to buy some tools and she'd teach me the basics. She was awesome.

Once Pony's legs healed, it was time to see what a fancy little pony could do. By this time, my farmer friends had decided he was a Welch Pony. Possibly a jumper. I think they were half full of shit (and draft beer), I have no idea what he was, but, he was pretty. He'd developed a nice gait...which was comical because he was so tiny. I took my little girl, she was four, out to the pasture and lacking a bridle or reigns, I just sat her on his back and held onto her, in case he bucked. Pony took it like the professional child hauler he was and began to slowly, carefully, walk her in circles. Turned out, this is what he lived for. He was never anything but gentle and careful. He dearly loved children and gave many their first riding thrill. No matter how young or boisterous they were, you could always count on Pony to take care of them. Once, Casey managed to fall off him (it was a very short fall) and he stood frozen, as still as death, and held one front leg up until she got up. He didn't want to risk stepping on her with a hoof. It was amazing behavior. We found some pony bridles at a sale and managed to adapt them to his size. Not that he ever needed them, they were more like..horse clothes. We also found the most amazing fancy pants pony saddle for only five bucks at an auction, because no one wanted a saddle that small. Pony and Casey J. looked like rodeo queens in that getup. They were both proud. Once we got more horses, we graduated to a large hay ring, monthly hay deliveries traded for farm work and learning basic Equine medical care. The 'Do It Yerself' school. The more I learned, the more I could afford. Once the story of Pony got out, I'd get calls about homeless horses who needed help. At one time, we had as many as six horses at once in my small pasture awaiting new homes, emergency care or behavior modification, 'taming down.' It was a lot. We didn't have the room or money for them all. I wish I could have kept most of them. But, at least we helped a few.

We had Pony for years. My daughter is the one who creatively named him, Pony. She said, he IS Pony and that's that. Good enough. You only had to go to the pasture and yell, Pooooooony, and he'd come, happy to serve. Delighted to be hugged and kissed by small short people. We only got rid of Pony when Casey J. outgrew him and went on to a bigger horse. He was given to the female Ferrier, who always had a fondness for him. She'd remembered him all those years. She had grand kids. I didn't have any more small children. It was the right thing to do for him. I know he was happy with her, I got reports and photos.

Pony was joined by several other rescue horses over the years. Some stories are not as happy as Pony's story. Some failed completely and broke my heart. But, the point is, if you want a horse or a pony, you don't have to spend a lot of money. Just ask around. You just have to be willing to take on the responsibility, have the room and most of all, be willing to risk heartbreak. Sometimes it just doesn't work out, but, when it does, it's awesome. There are a lot of horses all over the United States that desperately need good homes. You'd be surprised, if you look into it. I've come to believe that all children (mostly little girls, but, some little cowboys too) need a pony in their childhood. If you can possibly give them that, you should. It's worth the time and trouble. I wish I could give Lissa a pony, but, I can't take care of horses anymore. That makes me sad, but, I'm determined to get her on one anyway. I'll make it happen. She's nine now, I think she's ready.

Pony! That must be Pony's twin brother. Casey J. used to spend hours brushing Pony and putting barrettes in his bangs. (laughs) Pony was the best babysitter. Casey J, if you read this, what are your memories of Pony? Do you remember April, the next pony (the Pinto) who belonged to Jenny before you? April was a shit sometimes. A real Diva. She used to have that low limb trick she used to knock riders off. You never fell for it, but, I did. She was fat as hell too. Snort. She was a fast one, but, Pony was appalled at her attitude. He didn't think she took her job seriously.