13 years ago, I bought a small Shetland brown and white pinto pony for Justin and Katie. Katie was 6, Justin was 8, and the pony was 7. His name was Hurricane Hugo. He had come from Florida and was born the same year as his namesake hurricane. No hurricane he, he was instead as good as gold. Katie and Hugo became quite a famous tiny pair at area shows, fearlessly jumping and going where tiny pony pairs feared to tread. I trained him to drive, and then I could enjoy him as well. We took him to birthday parties and he calmly withstood camera flashes going off in his face, frantic mothers, and children who would crawl under his belly when I wasn't looking.
But, one day Katie outgrew him, and I was more interesting in riding than driving. So, rather than ever sell him, I free-leased him to a friend with two toddler girls. They could use him to learn to ride, to go to shows, drive in parades, and even do more birthday parties - and someday I would get him back when they were done. And I could drive him and put my grandchildren up on him. Well, in 6 days Hugo comes home - bringing his cart and harness behind him. Katie is now 19, Justin is 21, Hugo is 20, and I won't say how old I am. Once again, we will have a pony to play with. I guess you are never too old to want a pony!
Pony boy, Pony boy,
Won't you be my Pony boy?
Don't say 'no',
Off we go,
Ride along with me!
Giddy-up, giddy-up,
Giddy-up, whoa!
My Pony Boy!
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