Callie Smith Grant - The Horse of My Dreams: True Stories of the Horses We Love

Lauraine Snelling

A pony! I stared at the Shetland pony backing out of a trailer right in our yard. For me?

When I got excited, I would rub my clenched hands together and scrunch my face in a grin. I added jigging in place that night.

The man handed my dad the lead tied to the ponys halter. Her name is Polly, and shes pretty old, but shell be a good first pony for your little girl. He smiled at me standing by my mother. You got a bridle or saddle?

Daddy shook his head.

The man reached in the trailer and unhooked a bridle. Ill pick this up sometime when Im nearby. Oh, and Polly likes sugar cubes. I dont give her many, not good for her teeth, but she loves them.

Thank you. Daddy and the man shook hands, then the man got in his truck and drove off. But I didnt watch that. All I could see was a pony who looked grizzled gray in the fading light. Dusk was creeping across the land, the cows were milked and chores done. A good time for a pony to arrive.

But when wasnt a good time for a pony?

I stood in front of her and just stared. My pony was a dream of a lifetime. Even at five, I had wanted a pony for what felt like forever. Polly nibbled at my fingers when I reached out to stroke her face, making me giggle.

Mom returned from the house and handed me a couple of sugar cubes. My dad liked to dunk a sugar cube in his coffee, just like his pa did.

Give it to her on the flat of your hand, Daddy said. She might be old, but if she mistakes your fingers for a sugar cube...

I nodded and did as told, giggling when her whiskers tickled my palm. She likes it, all right. I let her finish and held out the other.

Ill bridle her up and then you can ride.

Really?

He looped the rope around Pollys neck and unbuckled the halter. She might try to take off on you, so dont give her a chance. Polly took the bit without an argument, and he buckled the bridle in place. Watch how to do this so you can do it yourself next time.

I nodded, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Polly swished her tail and stamped one front foot.

Now, here you go. Hang on to the reins. Like most farm kids, I had ridden on our team of workhorses, but Id never ridden my own pony. Daddy picked me up and set me on her back, reins in hand. He slapped Polly on the rump, and she took off, and I did too, only in the opposite direction, screaming all the while.

I dont know how my dad caught her. I would always need a can of oats to bribe her with, but he caught her, set me up on her back again, and said, Now hang on. That was the best advice my father ever gave me. Hang on. And so began my years with Polly.

The dream had started some time before. When you are little, ten minutes can seem like forever. Mommy, when we get to the farm, can I have a pony? I had asked her.

We shall see.

I studied her face. That was one of those puzzling lines along with maybe. I have no idea when I started wanting a pony, but ponies and town living didnt mix. But now we were in Minnesota, where my daddy had grown up before going into the navy. The war was over, and he was hoping to buy a dairy farm. A farm meant land and pasture for a pony. And lots of cows, which suited me fine, animal lover that I already was. We had a doga rat terrierbut a farm meant cows and horses and chickens, maybe pigs also. Surely we would have cats in the barn and in the house too.

The farm we moved to had a big white barn with stanchions for the cows on both sides of the center aisle down the length and box stalls at either end. A silo guarded the barn and long machine shed. We had a two-story house where the upstairs was divided into two bedrooms with slanted ceilings that made it seem cozier. My mom and dad had a bedroom downstairs. A black cast-iron cookstove dominated the kitchen and provided heat for the house.

After our first rather surprising evening, Polly and I slowly became friends. She was an opinionated creature who did not like to be ordered around. She had lived many years and knew every trick in The Book of Shetland Pony Behaviors .

The Book

1. You do not come when called. You wait until you hear the oats rattling in the can. No oats in the can, you do not get caught.
2. You do not stand still the first time when your girl tries to get on your back. A handful of oats is the price.
3. If you do not feel the terrain is solid, no amount of leg banging and orders will persuade you. The best thing to do is whirl around and run for the barn.
4. When your girl wants to ride to her friends house, you go as far as you feel like, then whirl and head for the barn. If the barn door is closed, you wheel and head for the gate. Stop as abruptly as possible.