“I Went to Get Hay and a Pony.”

(The Husband comes down to the barn looking for me.)
The Husband: “Where have you been? I got a little worried when I came home. Both you and Princess Winnifred (my truck) were gone.”
Me: “Falcon (my dear friend) and I went to go get hay and a pony.”
The Husband: “Fantastic! How much was it per bale? Wait a minute—did you say you also got a pony?!”
Me: “Yup.”
The Husband: “Where?!”
Me: “He’s here in the aisle, why?”
The Husband: “I want to meet him! I got a pony!”

My friend Stephanie’s son, Hani, and I used to play-fight over Flower.

“My pony!” I’d say.

“MY pony!” he’d say.

We had such fun. Back and forth, forth and back. Then, the unthinkable happened and I had to make a decision every horse owner dreads.

Flower’s gone. The hurt we feel is only because all the love we have for Flower has nowhere to go.


Hani’s birthday is today. He asked me if I could get him a horse to jump out of a cake. He said he’d eat the frosting even after it touched a horse.

I can’t give him a cake like that. It’s just not realistic. It’s shedding season so there would be horsehair everywhere. I also don’t have an oven that big. Then there’s “which horse would be fine in the oven at 375F for 30-40 minutes?” When I asked my herd, I didn’t have a single taker. They all rode off into the sunset.


So I can’t get Hani a horse that jumps out of a cake.

But I did buy a pony and I named him Cupcake.


Happy Birthday, Hani. You are loved. Happy Gotcha day, Cupcake. You will be more loved than you ever dreamed.


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