My daughter’s horse learned to lean over electric wires with his coat on, so he didn’t get shocked – then one day he stepped over and the wire bounced back up and there he was – stuck in the middle – he flew into the air – ended up in the wrong field. Had to restring the electric fence, repair two posts, and he doesn’t get a coat in the winter anymore. (he doesn’t really need one!)

We had a pony called Blackie who could open any stable door – he had a friend, Cartoucho, a retired polo pony – and Blackie would escape his field, go to the stables, open Cartoucho’s door, and off they’d go. They usually headed to town, and hit the nearest vegetable garden – for some reason, they loved vegetable gardens. We’d get furious phone calls, and have to go fetch the two truants. The funniest thing that happened was an old man found them on the road, heaading to town. He managed to grab Cartoucho and, having no halter, took his belt off to hold the horse. His pants promptly fell down. He reached for his pants, and off ran Cartoucho – the man’s belt still around his neck.

The first pony I rode belonged to my best friend, Jenny A.  The pony was Ebony.  We were Jenny A and Jenny B, and we’d ride double on that fat, black pony, galloping, trotting, bouncing and falling off, laughing – even when we hit the ground so hard it knocked the wiind out of us – but it never knocked any sense into us. One day, both of us were sitting on his back while he grazed under an apple tree. Jenny A was leaning forward, resting on his neck, I was lying back, my head on ebony’s rump. I reached up and picked an apple, dangling temptingly overhead. The noise of the apple breaking off its stem made a little “crack” –  and Ebony took off like he was shot – leaving Jenny and I lying on the ground, winded, bruised, and laughing like loons.

We used to sneak out at night and bridle Ebony, then gallop him in the dark – horses see in the dark, (but we don’t), and galloping across the fields where we couldn’t see was scary and exhillerating. We must have looked like little ghosts in our white nightdresses, flying around on a pitch black pony in the night.

 

 

 

 

 

(to be added on!)