Tuesday, April 29, 2014

The Pony Comes Tonight

In Hillmomba, HM’s Hillmomba,
The pony comes tonight
In Hillmomba, rain-kissed Hillmomba
The pony comes tonight

Near the BARn, the red tin BARn
The pony comes tonight
Near the BARn, a lean-to BARn
The pony comes tonight

Hush, my heart, oh be still, my heart
The pony comes tonight
Like Christmas Eve, the excitement builds

Farmer H said we were getting our new pony tonight. The miniature stud-horse he traded two goats for. I was concerned how Farmer H was going to haul them. We don’t have a livestock trailer. They can’t stand in the back of a Ford F250. They can’t ride in the trailer that hauls the lawnmower, or on the trailer with ramps that can haul a car. Goats and (even miniature) ponies are too large for our plastic pet carrier. Too large for the metal crate that can transport chickens.

Then I was worried that even IF Farmer H had magically obtained a pony-hauler, he would not have a way to catch those two goats. Or to handle a pony. It’s not like the goats wear halters and walk on a lead.

This morning, my human boy The Pony explained it to me. “Oh. That guy Dad is getting it from is bringing the pony. And he’s going to help Dad catch the two goats. The black ones. Well, the one has a white face. But those are the two we’re getting rid of. The brown ones will be left. And Goatrude and Nellie.”

I hope the storm holds off. Wouldn’t want our new beast friend to feel frightened on his first night in Hillmomba. Our old dog Grizzly, picked up at the pound for the price of castration, was just a pup on his first night in a raging thunderstorm. Farmer H penned him up behind some plywood on the back porch outside the laundry room. Grizzly was good and dry, with a pan of food and a dish of water, but to the day he passed away in his sleep at the age of 12, stretched out on the gravel road between Mansion and BARn while we were attending our first day of school…he was afraid of thunderstorms.


Sweet Gummi Mary, the little guy is precious!

He's the poniest pony that ever poned! And he doesn't have a name yet. Maybe it's just me, but I think five years is a bit of a long time to let something this cute go without a name.

I hope my sweet, sweet Juno does not mind if I have found a new lovefest insterest.


Sioux said...

How big is that new baby of yours? You need to take his picture with something next to him, to give us an idea of how tall he is.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

He is so precious! I just want to scratch his little ears. You are right, he does need a name

Hillbilly Mom said...

He is 30 inches tall. When time permits, we'll get another picture. I might start a baby book for him!

You would probably keep him in the house. Maybe let him lick peanut butter out of He Who's peanut butter jar. He's THAT cute! The Pony likes the pony's "hair" as he calls it.