Share a stroy: Tell us about your first childhood horse or pony.

My unsuspecting family wanted an older pony. You know, to teach us how to ride. In their search they came across a man with two Shetlands running loose on his property. When they called, they learned that "Jerry" and "Hobo" had been his children's' ponies. They were turned out to pasture when the kids were too big to ride them and he was finally ready after much thought to find these old ponies a good home.
Bought both ponies -- sight unseen! My mom and her two sisters owned a 55 acre ranch together. Each had a house on the property and each had two to four kids. They thought the ponies should be a joint purchase since all nine kids would eventually learn to ride on them.

To the families' joint surprise, the 20 year old ponies were not the geriatric ponies they were led to believe. They were lively and rambunctious and not what most people these days would use to teach their kids riding. But those were not these days. Parents back then, at least ours, were very laid back and knew that we would survive -- and we did. Hobo was much wilder than Jerry. He would buck, crowhop, rub against fences and go under trees that only he could fit under. We all eventually learned to ride him, and boy, did we have a blast.

We used to play hide and seek. We could hide anywhere on the property -- including the barns and houses (when our parents were not around of coarse). The ponies climbed stairs, jumped, pulled carts, swam and even took the dogs for rides. We used to ride them to the 7-11™ to buy candy. We would tie them to the bike rack. MacDonalds™ was another favorite. Off we'd ride to buy lunch. The ponies preferred the french fries. One year they were even dressed up as reindeer for a picture with Santa.

Trailering them was great. They both fit in my aunt's VW bus. After building a ramp they had no problem climbing right in, then we would tie them to the safety handles above the side doors. Schooling shows, play days and parades, we would arrive in "small" style!

Hobo and Jerry were our very best childhood friends. It was very sad when we became too tall to ride them. Our parents bought us big horses. But … big horses are not quite as fun. They don't climb stairs or even entertain the idea of going in closets very well. They certainly don't fit in VW buses either. Just one more in a bunch of perks for pony power.

We were very sad when Jerry passed away last year. He was 43! We thought Hobo was going to die of depression. He had lived with his brother for every one of those 43 years.

Hobo is still with us. His legs are bowed and his hair is almost 4" long due to cushings. Hobo is now 45 years old. He is 11 hands, dappled gray with a flaxen mane and tail. And although he looks like a prehistoric creature, he is very healthy and as ornery as ever! I realize now, looking back at the 25 years of owning Hobo, once you have owned a pony, no matter how mean or bratty it is, you will always be a pony person.