Old Pony

Old Pony

Pony

BY PONYPERSON

He stands in the crossties.  His unruly black hair is long. His large brown eyes scan the scene before him. This horse, no, it’s a pony, has had a long life, I decide. This pony has seen many things.

I walk past the scene. A groom has spilled a water bucket and the stable manager is yelling at him.

The pony gazes lovingly at me, even though it’s the first time the little black equine has seen me.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” I whisper.

“Get away from that pony unless you’re buying it.” The stable manager growls, still upset about the water bucket.

“I will buy him.”

“He will be cheap, I suppose. After all, the ancient thing was given to us. We shall give him to you.” The stable manager snaps a lead rope onto the pony’s rope halter.

“Thank you. What is his name?”

“Black Pony.”

The poor thing may as well have been named Equine.

I lead the pony from the barn. With some work, he will be beautiful.

I turn the pony out in our field. He is deadly thin and dirty.

I go into the barn to get some brushes. I feel as if I know the pony in a strange way.

Suddenly I hear hooves behind me. I spin around to see the black pony, proud as a shiny new penny, standing behind me. No gates are open. He jumped the five foot fence!

I know who this pony is. It is Black Jack, the champion pony, the only pony to make it nationals and win. This is an old fourteen hand champion.