Peanuts was our cheeky little white Shetland Pony that we got in 1993. He died last year. This is a poem Janet wrote for him.
He came our way in ’93,
A pony we must find,
For Meddles then had passed away,
At the age of thirty-five.
A little horse for little kids,
It all made sense to me.
And soon enough we saw our chance,
His name began with ‘P’.
We didn’t know what lay ahead;
The Fun, the love, the smiles.
We only knew that he was cute,
The best we’d seen by miles!
We rode him then, and trotting fast,
The giggles blurted out.
Bouncing on his sturdy back,
We’d found a friend no doubt!
“But things aren’t great” the owner said,
“He’s foundered as you’ll see.
Too much spring grass and not much work,
Has been his history.”
Now most would say “We’ll leave him then.”
“Don’t need a horse that’s lame.”
But we saw something else, I guess,
That is, besides his mane!
It was his courage, now I know,
That attracted me to him.
His friendly ways, his little neighs,
Our hearts he’d gently won.
He joined the others on our farm,
The horses, dogs and chooks.
But they could not believe their eyes,
And had a second look!
A white and furry little beast,
A tail so long and fancy,
His mane was shaggy,legs were short,
He looked like he was dancing.
He found his place amongst the herd,
His best friend was the goat.
But size to him, it mattered not,
And poor Chum lost the vote.
His founder went, but did recur,
Whenever it was spring.
And so we had to lock him up,
Electric fence the thing.
His eyes went wild, his head he tossed,
His path he carefully charted.
A pigroot and then a look of glee,
Beneath the fence he darted!
We took him here, we took him there,
The beach, the forest, camping.
But best of all was Christmas Eve,
He truly was enchanting.
With Christmas hat and antlers on,
We’d take him for a stroll,
To Grassy Flat among the crowd,
He’d really play his role.
At Churches too, with donkey friends,
He’d take the kids all riding.
His little feet upon the path
Of busy streets were striding.
Back at home our friends would come,
And try their hand at riding.
He always made it so much fun,
when sideways they were sliding.
They’d laugh so much that they fell off,
And he would stop and wait.
Till they would get aboard again,
And canter to the gate.
We loved this little horse so much,
He taught us many things.
He always gave more than he took;
We could be more like him.
We’d kiss his muzzle, then
He wouldn’t turn away.
I’m sure that he enjoyed it too,
That really was his way.
We still don’t know what took his life,
But do know we are grateful
That our Creator cared enough
To lend his little angel.
– luv ya, Peanuts…