Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Pony Tails

Perfect Pony

For most of his many years with us, darling, wee Chauncey was more like another dog here on the farm, than a pony. He was loose in the yard and went wherever the whim or fancy took him. The only other horse that got to enjoy that kind of freedom was Sundance Kidd, and only when he got a bit older and never at the same time. One out alone hung around friends and company. Two might venture away, looking for some fun and excitement.
I can’t even count the times I came home from running into the nearby town, to find whichever horse I’d let out to graze, locked in the round pen or empty corral. I would hear pitiful whinnying the second I opened the car door!
“Hey! I’m back here! Let me out!”
When it happened to him, Chauncey would patiently wait and watch for me. Kidd on the other hand, would bob his head up and down while pawing. He wanted out!
To see Chauncey walk up to see visitors along with the dogs was too precious for words. He was smart enough to stay put of trouble, but owned a very well-developed sense of self as well. That little pony thought he was 20 hands high. He would stand on a hill, and play tug the halter with draft horses. He crawled under a chain link fence to eat hay with the stallions, and they allowed it! Not only was it allowed, they seemed to enjoy his company.
When Chauncey was a yearling, I started to teach him all sorts of tricks. He would rear on command, then rear and paw the air, step up onto a stool with his front as well as his back, and so much more. I so enjoyed his little tricks, until one fine day, he decided not to do them anymore. Oh, he still did them, but to suit his wants and needs. Not to humour me. He still climbed things, like onto bottom planks to look over fences, or into mangers after removing the adjustable height front of his stall. Imagine my surprise when I opened the barn door to be greeted with happy nickers, and see four heads in a row when I should only have seen three. There was no way Chauncey’s cute, little head should’ve been visible. He was far too small, too little. But those front planks had been lifted from their slots, and there he was, front hooves in the manger. On top of it, he was very pleased with himself.
The memories of adorable Chauncey are many. That cute whinny in answer to our call, how he’d come trotting over to see what was going on. The way he took care of children, and never had a mean bone in his body. He lived a long, wonderful life, but it wasn’t long enough. If that little guy was still wandering around the farm, peeking out the barn door at us, that would be a wonderful thing indeed.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB