A Day in the Life of a Pony Named Pony: The Ultimate Nightmare

Whoever thought of the costume class at horse shows is on my list.

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.

Illustration by Jenny Kammerer. You can find her on Instagram at @jennykammart.

Dear Diary,

Halloween is fast approaching. You know what that means? Treats such as caramel apples and pumpkin? If that’s what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. Very, very wrong. No, for me — and likely many ponies across the US — the approach of Halloween means the ultimate nightmare. Not scary stories and people dressed as witches and ghouls. That’s child’s play. No, the true nightmare is the embarrassment that is the costume class at horse shows.

For some unknown reason, the humans think it’s funny or cute to dress up themselves and their unwilling horses in some distorted couples type costumes. From the kid safe pony costume (complete with mock black eyes and broken bones) to the headless horseman, humans enjoy subjecting us to this abject humiliation year after year, thinking themselves clever or creative.

You’ve likely seen this picture before, but I will share it again to emphasize the frustration that is my life. The small human is Sophia the First, and I am Minimus. Despite the ungodly amounts of purple coat spray, I’m not even purple and we didn’t get a ribbon for this. It’s ridiculous. Photo courtesy of DeAnn Long Sloan.

If I could talk, I would tell humans the truth: this is neither clever nor creative. No, it’s irritating and mortifying. It is one more step toward my inevitable escape from the confinement center. As the air gets cooler and the leaves turn, I work even harder to avoid capture, lest the humans get the bright idea to enter me in one of these contests again.

From now until November 1, I’ll be running circles around the humans and having nightmares about costumes. If other horses are smart, they’ll do the same.

Till next time, Diary. Here’s hoping one of these abominations isn’t in my future.