|
Don't cry for the
horses
Don't cry for the
horses
They were ours as a
gift
Their spirits
unbound
Manes and tails
flowing |
My First Pony-Joe
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Don't cry for the horses |

I got "Old Joe" when I was 6 years old. We won him from a raffle drawing. Boy was I ever excited...my parents weren't as thrilled though.
Joe was a spunky pony that was approximately 20 years old or so when we got him. We didn't have a trailer so my Dad got to ride him home. Luckily, he only lived about 5 miles from our home. We kept him at our home for about a week until we found someplace to board him at. Our neighbors fit that bill to a tee. They had 4 other horses for him to pal around with and they had other children for us to play with. There was another Shetland pony named Bullet because he was fast. Our neighbors oldest son rode Joe one day and said Joe was faster than Bullet and should have been named Lightning. Joe loved to play practical jokes on people. One of his favorites was to block the barn door when someone went inside. He also loved to wedge himself under the fence to munch on the newly sprouted corn.
I moved away a few years later and luckily those kind neighbors kept Joe. I got to go out to visit him a few times after the move and he sure did act like he remembered me. He would push the other horses away from the fence so he could get his fair share of pets and rubs.
In his later years, his feet really started to bother him. He had probably foundered before we got him. Joe was well into his 20's when he was finally put to rest.
Farewell friend, you gave me a taste of what it would be like to be free on the back of a horse, rest well.

I always jumped at the chance when my Grandpa came to visit. That meant that we got to go horseback riding no matter what the weather.