My little Pony is growing long in the tooth. Tonight is his Freshman Orientation. Yikes! He'll be in high school next year. In my class!
I'm not concerned about The Pony. He's quite tractable. No horsing around from him. He can be let off the lead rope and still plow a straight furrow. He is not one to feel his oats and kick up his heels. He's a work horse, not a show horse. Yet he still ends up in the winner's circle.
The #1 son needs a good snubbing post every now and then. Just to remind him who is boss. He prances through life ears forward, tail high, always ready for adventure. He fights the bit, blows up his belly when the saddle is cinched, nips if you turn your back. At times, you have to show him the whip.
The Pony is content to graze in the home pasture until needed as a beast of burden. He never even needed sacking out. He's as placid as a carnival pony walking in circles with tots on his back. A squeeze to his ribs gets him stepping. To show him the whip would break his spirit.
So different. But of the same bloodline. They are both thoroughbreds to me.