Older and Wiser
I donât have a fancy pedigree like Sonny. In fact no one knows who my parents or grandparents were. A horse like me with âmysteryâ relatives is called a grade horse. Iâm small, only14.1 hands, with patches of white and chocolate brown fur. A little girl saw me and wasnât sure whether I was a horse or a cow. To avoid hurting my feelings, she said, âHi, horsey-cow!”
My life hasnât always been easy. Iâve worked hard without food, love or appreciation. Would you believe I didnât even have a name before Mom bought me? I was simply called, âThe Pintoâ. She named me Cherokee because she thought I looked like an Indian pony.Â
When we arrived at the NEIGH-borhood, I spotted a horse watching me from the barn window. As soon as he saw the trailer, he screamed, ducked back into his stall, and then barged out again, like a bird in a cuckoo clock. âOh no,â I thought. âIâm going to live with a crazy horse.â He was thrilled to meet me and wanted to be friends right away, but all I wanted to meet was the lush grass growing at my feet.
That night when Mom put me into my stall, she gave me a full scoop of grain, the biggest pile of hay Iâd ever seen, and my first horse cookie. Whoever invented them was a genius! Even then, I couldnât stop worrying. Iâm old and my health isnât good after years of poor care. Iâd always been expected to work. Would I be sent away from this wonderful place if I couldnât? Luckily Mom had the perfect job in mind: Sonnyâs babysitter.
Babysitter Supreme
It wasnât long before I was put to the test to see if I could handle my new responsibility. Sonny is nice, but annoying. He doesnât chase me or steal my food, but he never leaves my sideânot even for a second. When a kid rode up on his bike and rested it against the fence, Sonny panicked. He snorted, arched his tail, and took off at a gallop. I shook my head as I watched the cloud of dust chasing his hooves. âThis job is going to be harder than I thought.â
Walking over to the bike, I called to him repeatedly, âSonny! Come here!â He slowly inched his way toward me and the Scary Thing. âSmell it. Itâs not alive. It wonât hurt you,â I said. Nostrils quivering, he took a sniff and then flew back, trying to hide behind bony little me. With patience and encouragement, I finally convinced him that bicycles do not eat horses. Sighing with relief, he buried his nose into his hay. I was proud to be so good at my job and happy that he trusted me. Mom patted me and said, âGood boy Cherokee. You deserve an extra cookie tonight!
By Nancy Di Fabbio
Like millions of youngsters, Nancy Di Fabbio was infatuated with horses and never gave up dreaming that one day sheâd be riding one of her own. She eventually realized her dreams and got her first horse, followed quickly by her second, third, fourth and finally fifth. Passionate about sharing her love for this amazing animal, sheâs written Saddle Up! â And Live Your Dream, a comprehensive how-to for the budding equestrian which will be released Spring 2012. She also writes a childrenâs column about the exploits of her herd, but the stories are informative, funny and touching enough to appeal to everyone. You can share their adventures on TheExaminerNews.com website under the heading: NEIGH-borhood Tales
Adam has worked in the local news industry for the past two decades in Westchester County and the broader Hudson Valley. Read more from Adam’s author bio here.