2.18.2016

A girl and her horse

I had a pony when I was very little. This was so long ago that my only true memory of the little shetland pony, Birdy, is when she sat down with myself while my friend Marcie was riding too against a wire fence and we both slid off and I was very offended.

Then, as a young awkward teen, I spent time at my Grandparents house in New Plymouth getting to know my Papa's horse. This was not a small horse, but a very large brown one. The horse and I developed a bond. Or maybe I just thought we had, as I spent a lot of time talking to him and petting him.

I wrote about horses a lot, and my husband and I recently came across my "about me" book, and I guess at the time I had stated... "Horses are my life."

So I guess it makes a lot of sense that I fell in love with a photo of a mini horse. Yes. And three days of talking Nick into it...

I am the proud owner of a four year old mini horse named Rocky.

Part of it was that he was four. Like my second boy would be also. Part of it was that he doesn't really trust people and has a bit of anxiety...

Which I also struggle with.

His owner was also named Julia, and she had rescued Rocky from a rather wild group of mini horses who hadn't had much interaction with people.

So my Rocky has been beaten up pretty good by the horses he was with. He was obviously not the top of the hierarchy, and has the scars to prove he tried to be.

So our family's new mini horse (although he's just above the cut off for that title and also is a pony) has been enjoying the quiet life here in our yard, grazing on our various grasses and rolling in the leaves left over from fall.

He is starting to trust me, but prefers if I don't stand upon approach, but rather get down and let him come to me. He doesn't think he's the boss, but he definitely wants the option of getting away if he feels spooked in the slightest.

We've been talking to each other. He has finally gotten comfortable with me brushing him (although he would prefer to roll in the dirt after a good brushing). The kids are learning to give him space and I am learning to read his facial expressions.

It seems to me, in a horses eye, a whole world of truth is present. To communicate so well with not a word... It's inspiring.

How is the gaze of a horse so filled with so many different emotions. It's a language I am eager to learn.

Somehow, I think Rocky feels the same. He looks with interest as I talk to him, and I can't help but feel that this therapy is worth far more than I could pay for. :)

I don't have photos of him on the computer, but he is a reddish brown, with darker browns here and there. He is beautiful. Handsome.

Really, to be honest, I don't call him Rocky. I call him Handsome. I always felt that starting a friendship with a compliment made for a more fulfilling relationship. So every morning I greet him by calling him "Hello there Handsome" and I can tell he appreciates it.

I'm pretty sure he kind of basks in it, actually. :)

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