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Pony Tales THE GRANDAUGHTER CHRONICLES W
trailer pull away; carrying with it the pony my granddaughter takes lessons on. It was heart wrenching for everyone there, and especially difficult to explain financial facts to a nine year old who has learned trust from the heart of the fuzzy little critter they called, Smokey. The economy had taken its toll on the family who owned
e stood at the gates of the stable and sadly watched the
this terrific pony, and it had come down to sell or turn it out to pasture. The option of selling did not sit well with either the parents, their child or any of the students who rode it in the riding school. Selling it for the little money school ponies are bringing in this economy did not make sense. The only reasonable option was to put it in the backyard of a friend living in Norco. Parents stepped behind the steering wheels of their cars
all sorts of attention on him as some cried and begged to take him back “home”. Then all of a sudden he threw his head in the air and let
out a high pitched whiney in the direction of the grass field. The other ponies quickly replied and came trotting to the gate. Charlie opened the gate, walked in and the ponies ran to him, nickering all the way. From his pocket he pulled several carrots, and an apple that he quickly cut into sections with his pocket knife. Giving each one their fair share, he stroked them. An unspoken language passed between them as all the rest of us stood quietly in awe. Then he took Smokey’s lead rope and led him out into the
with herds of children clamoring in to make sure they did not lose sight of the trailer as it lumbered up the 10 freeway, east- ward bound. After the first squeals of, “HURRY, HURRY,” had toned down, the children all sat quietly as the miles ticked by. Finally the trailer turned into a driveway with a chain link fence and a big dog barking its warning. Tentatively the children filed out of the half dozen cars
that had been their transportation to what they believed was the end of the earth for Smokey. They looked around at a clean, tidy house with a few pipe stalls in the back yard lead- ing to a block long area with grass….and three other ponies. A wonderful older man named Charlie was waiting…
..and watching. Smokey backed out of the trailer not quite sure what was
waiting, but he was obviously glad to see the children. He nuzzled them and nosed their pockets looking for the treats he knew so well were always forth coming. The kids lavished
center of the field as all the other ponies followed. Standing among them for ten or so minutes, while they all nudged and shoved each other, he finally unclicked the lead rope, turned and walked away. It took all of a split second for Smokey and the rest of them to take off at the speed of light and race to the other end of the field and back, then they did it again. On the third lap of the field they all came to a stop at the
gate, almost as if to get a second wind. Smokey strolled over to the children for another round of treats, then as if to say, “See you later”, he spun and they all took off again for the last time. Charlie stood quiet, then lumbered up to all of us. “Don’t
we all wish we got a chance to run wild for a spell? Won’t be long till you take him back, but what wonderful friends he has made already.” I realized at that moment that Smokey had been given the
gift of freedom to be a wild horse again, and we had been given the gift of Charlie and his gentle wisdom. I expect we will see him quite regularly and we will learn some life lessons in the process.
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