Sunday Takeover

A post from Walker to the pony blogosphere:

The wretched human came to the barn today.

It is coldz and I do not like to work.  So while she adjusted my belt, I ate a piece of the mounting block.  Wretched human was not happy.  I have yet to figure out why.

After that, she got right down to business.  She was all, "Let us begin this glorious ride with a gentle jog."  And I was all, "I like to trotz.  But only when you don't want me to."

So I trotz.  Fast.  And I'm all, "You know what.  It is a wonderful crisp day."

And I felt so good and chipper that I just needed to express myself by leaping four feet in the air.  I felt like a gazelle.  I'm sure with my svelte body that I looked like one too.

By now, we're really cookin'.  But wretched human can sit all the trotz even though she took her feet holders away.  I decide this cannot deter my happiness.

Wretched human likes to rate our rides based on how many pylons I run over.  I assume that she likes it when I run over things so when I see a caveletti that someone left lying in our road, I decide that it will please her to run at it.

Now, where does she hide the treats?

I pick up the speed, and she was all "No!  You're not allowed to jump!"  And I was all "PSYCH, wretched human!"  And I just kicked it over instead.

Then she decided to canter, and because I was feeling fan-frickin-tastic, I even went on the bit for her.  But just for a few minutes.  It's important to keep the humans humble.

Once we were cantering all pretty and such on the bit, I waited for wretched human to get comfortable, then I threw my head around like a bronco.  I also threw my front end to one direction and my back end to another.  It is also important to teach them balance.

Boy, time really flies when you're having fun.  At the end of the ride, she practically slid off me and onto the ground.  I heard her everything crack.  But I suspect that she is cracked up anyway.

I mean, what exactly is the plan of the humanz?  They are all "Dance, pony, dance."  I ain't no ballerina, but if you continue to insist on feeding me the bestest food ever in exchange for knocking things over, I'm game.