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Dec. 7th, 2006
So said Abraham Lincoln.
I heard this evening that two of the ponies I've known and ridden at the stables have died recently.
Lucky was a great little pony. Little legs that went like pistons and a mouth like steel - she weren't stopppin' for nobody. A plucky little feisty thing full of verve and spirit. She became ill a few weeks ago, was rushed to hospital and died two days later.
Then, within a week, Harvey - gentle, reliable furry Harvey, with his feathery fetlocks and his thick shaggy mane and solid cobby body - died too.
I've ridden Lucky many times in the past, and Harvey was the first horse that I rode, when I started lessons again after a break of fifteen years. It's like two dear aquaintances of mine have died. I would tell you, what a wonderful animal the horse is. About how there is no smell that fills your soul like the smell of the horse. How there is nothing as soft as the velvet of a horse's nose, nor as strong as the fibres of his mane. How there is no connection like that you feel from the warmth of a horse's sides and the contact of the rein against your fingers. How there is no animal so noble and powerful, who will bend his neck to the entreaty of a child.
But there is no point telling you. Because you will either already know, or you would never understand.
I heard this evening that two of the ponies I've known and ridden at the stables have died recently.
Lucky was a great little pony. Little legs that went like pistons and a mouth like steel - she weren't stopppin' for nobody. A plucky little feisty thing full of verve and spirit. She became ill a few weeks ago, was rushed to hospital and died two days later.
Then, within a week, Harvey - gentle, reliable furry Harvey, with his feathery fetlocks and his thick shaggy mane and solid cobby body - died too.
I've ridden Lucky many times in the past, and Harvey was the first horse that I rode, when I started lessons again after a break of fifteen years. It's like two dear aquaintances of mine have died. I would tell you, what a wonderful animal the horse is. About how there is no smell that fills your soul like the smell of the horse. How there is nothing as soft as the velvet of a horse's nose, nor as strong as the fibres of his mane. How there is no connection like that you feel from the warmth of a horse's sides and the contact of the rein against your fingers. How there is no animal so noble and powerful, who will bend his neck to the entreaty of a child.
But there is no point telling you. Because you will either already know, or you would never understand.