Giddy-up!

I always was obsessed with horses growing up.  Each birthday and Christmas I would ask for a pony.  Whenever we would go to the fair I would make it mandatory to visit the horse barn and pick out the horse.  And than I would visit the horse ten-billion times throughout the fair to make sure 'Lightening' was okay.  Every horse I named Lightening, Brownie, or Flash.  Original, I know.  And if I was really well-behaved I got to RIDE a pony.  Oh the memories.  

Then one day Steven and I got a wonder horse. 

 We would dig out the cowboy and cowgirl attire from the attic and be off to the races.  

We would push that poor horse to its limits by pretending it was bucking.  

However all great things have to come to a close, and I remember the day the wonder horse died.  

It was a horrible day in my childhood.  I fully blame Steven. 

It was raining and mom was making chocolate chip cookies.  We had pulled the wonder horse from our playroom into the living room.  Steve and I were seeing who could make it buck the most.  As Steve saddled into the horse I ran to the kitchen to refuel with cookies.  (I still LOVE cookies… too much!)  All of a sudden I heard a loud crash and turned to see Steve laying on the ground with the wonder horse.  I was horrified!!! I ran straight to the horse.  Steve was fine, but the wonder horse was died.  I cried and cried because mom and dad said it was died aka non-repairable. 

The day the wonder horse so did Steve's enthusiasm to play horses, but luckily I still had two other siblings.  Alyssa was my next victim.  To make up for the lack of horses, my grandma and grandpa Kuecker gave us these stick horses.  FANTASTIC.  If you pressed their ears they would NEIGH! and  have galloping noises.  Alyssa and I would ride the horses (Lightening and Midnight) from the kitchen down the long hallway into the living room.  We would see if we could make the distance before the sound stopped.  Somethings never change because I could not run fast enough from the kitchen to the living room before the galloping quit.  

Yet, I continued to ask for a pony.  And guess what this spoiled girl got?  A 3/4 Arabian and 1/4 Shetland pony that I named Maggie.  That horse had multiple personalities!

She would whiney whenever she saw me, walk next to me while she was in the fence and nuzzle my hand.  However, when you put a saddle on her she would fly like the wind and not listen to anyone.  Her favorite trick was running under low hanging objects to knock you off.  Intense!  Needless to say Maggie and I kept our relationship to leash walking because I had too many close calls.  

The best memory was attempting to give Maggie a haircut… with an elementary scissor.  Let's just say that she stood perfectly still, yet the haircut look like a blender got a hold of her mane.  I was not allowed to do that again!  

As I got older so did Maggie, and soon got sick.  And one day, like our dog Roscoe, Maggie was gone.  She went to another farm.  That's what I was told.  That's what I still believe.  

Thank you Dad and Mom for fulfilling my dream of owning a pony!