That which we call a rose …
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like in the mind of a pony, wonder no more. You’ll get to read the hilarious inner workings of a sassy and opinionated POA named Pony.
They say it’s bad luck to change a horse’s name (I don’t know who “they ” is, but “they” seem to say a lot of crap). So what does it mean when you change a horse’s name constantly? Before coming to my current confinement center, I was called Sara — and occasionally that name comes up. However, since arriving here, my name has been an ever-evolving term of disappointment.
The list of things I’ve been called is long: Sara, Elsa, Anna, Rainbow, Minimus, the ever-embarrassing Rainbow Lovey Heartstring, Pain In The A__, Butthead, You Little $4!#… and the list goes on. Some of the names are clearly the result of being thought “cute” by the small humans. Others are things large humans seem to spout when they’re being impatient or unaccommodating.
For some reason, they have settled on the name Pony… and by “settled,” I mean the large humans are too lazy to call me by my proper name, so they refer to me by this term. Are the other animals at the confinement center called Horse, Horse, Horse or Horse? Nope. Just me.
I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to earn such treatment, but here I am — relegated to a life dependent on humans and confined with these other beasts… Beasts who, by the way, don’t have the basic intelligence to realize that the humans want nothing more than to saddle them and make them work, so they stupidly run to the humans when called, thinking that food, treats and pets make up for the indignities to which they are subjected.
Perhaps one day everyone will realize my worth and treat me like the queen I am. Till next time, Diary.