Winter Pony

In summer, I have a beautiful red mare. She's almost copper colored with a long, full tail. She shines. She shimmers. She ripples. She's lovely and sleek and a well groomed athlete.

In winter? I've got a yak.

The yak, offering to shake.

She's fuzzy and dirty and sports an afro. She's got a beard a billy goat would envy and ear tufts that put an owl to shame. This is my winter pony. She's a cute yak, but she's still a yak. It's kind of embarrassing, but my other alternative is to stand in a cold barn aisle and pull her mane for no reason other than my pride. I like being warm more than I like my pride.

This is the first time I've caught her little trick in a photo. She had this behavior when I got her and I swear someone taught this horse to shake. When I'm too slow with the treats, she holds her front right hoof in the air. She doesn't really paw with it and it's not an anxious behavior. I think she's offering to shake. I discourage it, but it still pops up. I had a candy cane in my pocket and the princess knew it.

I labelled all of her blankets and pads today in preparation for her departure on January 1st. The princess is migrating south, and my long months of withdrawal are upon me. I'm really not going to know what to do with myself. I'll ride on Saturday and make sure all her stuff is neatly packed, and then I won't see her until the end of March.

. . .

I'm going to lose my mind.