All I need is my Pony.

Every have those times when life just gets so stressful that you need that ONE thing you can turn to? For me, that has always been my horse, and Dee hasn't let me down. I'm the type of person who is very black and white. I don't like it when people are are misleading, and I don't like it when my life turns into shades of gray. I think that's why I've always loved horses. They tell you how it is no matter what. My life has been full of gray lately, and it's been driving me nuts. But yesterday, Dee and I trucked over to Nancy's and had an amazing ride, which made everything that little bit better. She was really fabulous... forward, straight and totally relaxed through the whole ride. I mean, she had bobbles here and there (mostly at the scary, horse-eating side of the ring), but even those were very minor. Nancy seemed very happy with her, and we only did about 20 minutes of work, but it was plenty for my little out of shape baby.
She even dealt with another horse in the ring like a total pro. When I first went in there, Nancy was jumping Bunny around a bit. Needless to say, I waited to get on because Dee's little eyes were rolling around in her little head trying to figure out what on EARTH was going on. Eventually, Nancy went out to jump outside, so I jumped on and started working. A few minutes later, Bunny came back in to walk around and cool out (so that nancy could give me some pointers) and Dee could CARE LESS. Trot by Bunny? No worries! Bunny left? Who cares! She was a proper grown-up about everything and I was SO PROUD.
For me, horses have always been a way to regulate my life... keep things on track. They let me know where I stand every step of the way. Dogs and cats are similar, sure, but we don't ever work as closely with them as we do with our horses. If Dee is mad at me, she'll let me know immediately. If she's happy, she lets me know that, too. Granted, she often seems more peeved than anything else when I work with her on the ground, but that's only because she's momma's little princess and has to make sure I keep that in mind!

I used to dream that one day I would run away and live in the wild with my horse, like the people of olden days. I wanted it to be just me and my horse depending on each other and no one else. I'm a firm believer that there is no better thing than spending a day at the barn... in the tack and just hanging out with the horses.
At eleven years old, balmy summer days were spent as an Indian – bare feet and bare legs on the bare back on a horse. I would sit and scan the horizon, supreme upon a grassy knoll, held close by the haze, which hung in the air like a tapestry. Sweat, dirt and hair leapt from the horse, gluing me to his back, securing me in my position. A cotton lead hung loose in my hand, hardly a form of control, but I trusted my steed to remain on the hill, gorging on the fragrant green grass. Enveloped in the hot, humid air, we were safe, we were wild Indians, unconcerned with the world outside our field. There was no future, no past, just a perfect fantasy. We didn't worry about future horrors. They didn't exist. I was blithely ignorant to the future, a future where my sublime golden pony would be ripped from my life, a future where Indians on grassy knolls were a crumpled memory in a photo album.
I miss those days constantly. I always secretly wish that those dreams could be reality. All I need is my pony, who speaks in black and white and doesn't feed me bull shit.

And just as an aside... I'm watching Moulin Rouge right now... this is my favorite sequence ever:

Roots - Ode to a Friend

Sometimes I reminisce about the good ole' days... but inevitably, they turn into the most bittersweet memories that I have. This is for you, buddy.
Friends can come in any color, shape or size. They can touch you in so many ways, that even when they’ve gone, they continue to affect your life. I found a friend in wise brown eyes, copper hair and four hooves. My friend’s name was Peaches when I met him, but he came to be known as Sierra. He was not what anyone would have considered the perfect first horse. After being tossed in a field for years and being plagued with endless hoof issues, he was a little bit hot, to say the least. During the first year, every time I tried to hack him, he would hit the pavement and then the sky. He would take off after jumps. Buck me off. Make me cry. I was terrified of him for a few months.
Sometimes, though, it takes some tears and some hard choices to figure out how to handle yourself or your situation. I resolved myself to fixing his issues.
Sure, he was never mr. athletic. He was a mediocre mover and a safe but very limited jumper. What can I say? I was young and I was in love.
Regardless of his limitations, I could slap a halter on him and take him into the endless fields, spending the whole day pretending I was an indian. I could sit in the corner of his stall while he ate, telling him my deepest, darkest secrets. I could spend hours just pouring over his body, memorizing every little bit.
Nearly ten years later, I can still recall the little scar on his back in the shape of a '7'. I can remember the peculiar discoloration on his rump - what we all nicknamed the 'rotten muffin'. I can remember his kind eyes and those bad feet.
I can remember the day my heart broke.
I spent the hour before the vet came crying into his mane, giving him a final brush.
It was the hardest goodbye I have ever said, knowing it was the last one he would ever hear.
So this is for you, friend. This is for all those endless summer days we spent together. This is for saying goodbye way too soon. I miss you every day. I love you every day.