|Ready to ride!|
The Stringam ranch raised cattle.
At the time, there was only one piece of equipment suited to working with these animals.
A wonderful, beautiful, perfect, exquisite, delightful, magnificent, superb, gorgeous, splendid, superlative, bravura, exceptional, dazzling and really, really nice horse.
Did I mention I like horses?
Probably not, but you get the picture.
The men and other grown-ups on the ranch had their own mounts.
The smaller residents on the ranch needed something . . . smaller.
Dad purchased a little, black Shetland pony.
A pretty little guy.
With the cute little name of ‘Nipper’.
Everyone came out to see him.
My oldest sister, four, was especially excited.
Here was a horse just her size.
“I want to ride him!” she said.
Mom lifted her small daughter and set her on the small, black back.
Suddenly, she felt a pinch.
A sharp pinch.
Somewhere in her nether regions.
She turned back to her daughter. “He’s a nice pony, isn’t he?” she asked.
Chris was voluble in her praise and adoration.
Mom reached out to pull her daughter off.
And suddenly, there was that pinch again.
She turned around.
What on earth?
She helped Chris pet the pony’s head.
He was so perfect.
“I wanna ride again,” Chris said.
Obligingly, Mom reached out to set her small daughter on the pony’s back.
This time, she turned, just in time to see the small, perfect pony turning his head to face front.
And then it hit her.
Whenever she reached out to help her daughter, the little monkey had been turning his head and biting her!
Suddenly the cute little name he had arrived with made a lot more sense.
Let’s face it, it suited.