Who is Your Hero?

This is Pony. Well, technically, her name is Cookie, but none of us can be bothered by so long and official of a name. So we call her “Pony," or “Pone,” for short. 

And that is Charlotte the kitten sitting on top of Pony. 

Charlotte was agreeable and blissed out the first time she sat on Pony’s back, but the second and third time, she made it clear that she didn’t want a repeat of the experience, and so the cuteness was short lived. Unfortunately. 

But fortunately, from Charlotte’s perspective. 

And perhaps from Pony’s as well.

But, back to Pony.

Pony visits us every day, rain or shine. 

She walks down our trail, right up onto our deck, clop, clop, clop, sometimes twice a day. 

She knows we have treats waiting for her.

I admit, I have encouraged her visits with treats on demand. 

I love everything about her. I’ve always loved horses but this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been around one on a long term basis.

I love petting her velvety soft muzzle. I love her low, satisfied whinny when she smells the grain. I love the feel of her bristly whiskers on the palm of my hand as eats and slobbers. I love picking  up the grain she knocks on the ground so she can schnuffle at it again and eat, piece by piece.

The depth to which you love anyone, human or animal, is not proportional to the amount of chaos that loved one’s presence can sometimes bring.

Pony not being excluded.

There was a time where Pony walked up onto our porch and waited patiently for us by the door in the summer. We kept our door open, but had mosquito netting hanging down.

Pony would peer at us demurely between the folds of the netting, batting her eyes at us. 

After we fed her snacks, she would take a nap standing in our door way for an hour or two, then go out and visit other cabins for pets and snacks, or to graze. 

However, once we closed the the door for winter, she was Not Happy. 

In fact, she was Put Out. 

She would whinnny loudly, then rattle the door handle with her muzzle. 

After a short amount of time, she learned that The Door Opened when she did that.

And ever since then, she has been opening our front door. 

She flicks the door handle up, and she pops the door open. 

After it swings open, she quickly steps in. 

Because it sometimes takes her a few tries, she’s frustrated by the time she gets in.

So she walks in like a boss, sweeps her gaze from left to right, then zero’s her gaze on the closest person, whinnying loudly, as if to say, “Where’s my treat, serfs?” 

Our pup Huckleberry, who is Pony’s bestie, has been barking since the second he heard her hooves clopping on the patio. 

Even though Huckie and Pony are thick as thieves, Huck isn’t beneath tattling on her for knowing she’s about to come in without permission, and let the the cold air in. 

And Huckie’s mom Sunshine has been yapping all this time as well because she believes that every time her son Huckie barks, his life is in mortal danger and it’s her job to protect him.   

Sparky usually is sawing logs and isn’t really concerned. 

By the time Pony is given her mandatory treat and is satisfied, she settles down for a nap outside our door. 

She sometimes finger-paints on the glass door with her tongue for a bit, and makes an artistic rendering or two. When it becomes so artistic that we can’t see through the glass, we wash it off and become shocked we can see through the glass.

We’ve only washed it once since we’ve moved here in 2 and a half years. 

We do love her masterpieces. 

But back to the point.

Which is... what Pony wants, Pony gets.

On the evenings when she's ready to go to bed early and she's looking for us, Pony comes to our cabin to find us, and yell at us, which she did on this particular night. 

So I grabbed my jacket and went out.

My mistake on this particular night was walking in front of her in the dark.

I didn't think anything of it. 

Because usually she is a Very Slow Walker. 

I didn't think she would try to bolt ahead of me. 

I didn't think about how narrow our path was. 

I didn't think about the 6 inch rocks lining the left of the path, oh so artistically.  

Apparently, neither did Pony.

Because suddenly, she tore off running up the path with a burst of speed, knocking me off to the left with her big hips and butt.

And there I went sailing on up and over the rocks, into a patch of weeds.

Fortunately, I was able to catch my footing. 

In the moment, I was so mad that she ran me off the path. 

But I haven't been around horses before her, and I'm still learning my way around them AND Pony in particular. 

Very quickly, my anger dissolved and morphed into admiration. 

I now know not to walk in front of OR beside Pony while going slow on our narrow path, especially on a wet, rainy night. 

Because when pony gets something in her mind that she wants, she GETS it. 

When she wants to go to bed on a rainy, dark evening, she comes down to our cabin, and tells us.

When she wants to race up our trail, she does that even if there’s something or someone (eeks) in the way. 

When she wants to eat corn that’s forbidden, she flings me up in the air and eats corn even though she’s not supposed to (scroll two posts below to hear me tell on her during her Great Corn Heist).

This is a girl who know what she wants and knows how to get it. 

Somehow, I’ve been feeling stuck for a very long time.

I’ve been feeling lost and unable to achieve what I really want, like I’ve lost my power.

I know I haven’t.

But on days like this, Pony is my Hero.