Dearest elderly lesson ponies, (and horses, too!)
I admire you. I know how many miles of rides you must have reached in order to get to the point you're at now. It's probably close to one or two million, right? Well, they aren't going unnoticed. You probably began life full of energy and a wily, fiery attitude. Kicking your heels up, rolling in the grass, and being free.
That life changed dramatically when you were introduced to a halter, lead rope, and someone who wanted to love you. Hopefully, the person who gave you your first pat on the neck, first peppermint, first lunging lesson, and first ride had the best of intentions and knowledge behind them. I can only hope they had soft hands, gentle ways, and only ever had to ask you to respect and obey them, not fear them or be the brunt of their anger when you didn't understand (or didn't want to...)
Regardless of how you were started, who did (or did not do) your groundwork, or what your first few rides were like, you put a lot of effort in along the way. You've been through countless mud puddles on trail rides, had to patiently wait for unsure hands to brush the dust off your coat, and dealt with multitudes of bouncy bums on your back if your rider wanted to go anything faster than a walk. You've trotted over crossrails and probably knocked a couple of them down, to teach your rider how they need to encourage you.
You've been able to survive the kicks and screams of the "wild child" riders, hell-bent on galloping around those barrels or over those jumps. You've also probably sparked a fire under those timid riders with a death grip on the reins, while you stood perfectly still...Until the age-old plastic bag comes floating along, then the poor kid gets to experience terror as you lovingly teach them the skills of hanging on--the hard way. You've got to loosen them up somehow, right? If the kid can brag later about being able to say on a "running" horse, then you've achieved your goal of boosting their confidence--even if your trainer chewed you out for it afterwards.
The point is, I want to thank you. You handle a job that far too few horses can tolerate and you do it with gentle nudges and a "sure thing" attitude. It's a rare and adored gift to be able to ride through the beginnings of cowgirl life with you. Thank you.
