One of my co-workers mentioned that she wants a horse. A real live honest-to-goodness horse that you can ride. Not to mention take care of, feed, groom, maintain, house, whatever else.
And it reminded me of my first pony. And let me just say that I realized at a later age in life that not everyone had as unusual a life as I did. And let's not get into family issues - just that the things I took for granted were definitely unusual, but not to a small-town redneck kid.
My first pony was a Shetland, which are meaner than an angry nest of red wasps. Those Shetlands are stubborn, obstinate, and just not very good ponies for a 5 year old. And I wanted one SO BADLY that it was all I talked about for a year. To just let you know where I was at this time in my life, I was now living with Dad & Joanne in San Felipe, and one of my Dad's newest side businesses was racing/raising quarterhorses. So we had plenty of room and space to accommodate.
And Christmas '74 shows me running outside to meet my new pony and I was just ecstatic. It probably was one of my best Christmases ever. And to a 5 year old all I could think of was: What should I name it? I named my Shetland Ranger Melton. (of course, all horses have last names, right?) And my Dad suggested Rudolph, since I got him on Christmas. And, ever one to compromise and have everyone be happy (it's only recently that I've grown into not being this way since I've hit my 30's if you can believe that) I relented.
In 1974, the newest addition to the Melton household: Rudolph Ranger Melton.
Because all Shetland ponies need middle names too.
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