Wednesday, March 22, 2006


Ornery V

I had a small flashback last night playing Darts and this is that tale....

Ornery V

From the last bit of writing you will remember that Snoopy was our first pony, and a better babysitter you couldn’t have asked for. Our mother used to help us saddle him when we were too young to do it ourselves (4-5yrs old) and then she would go back in the house make sure we didn’t need anything and then she would run to the store.

I know in today’s day and age that would get her in trouble, but if you had the choice of leaving your two demon spawns with a horse or taking them out in public and endangering the lives of good hard working citizens….what would you do?

Well Snoopy was the greatest horse ever. He would allow two little kids to treat him like a jungle gym. We could walk under his belly, and climb using his tail, and hang from his mane…all the stuff we later learned that you aren’t supposed to be able to do with out getting bit or kicked or stepped on. We loved that little horse. We ended up selling him to another farm family just down the way a bit ( see that is a colorful country colloquialism used to say “up the street” or “down the road” or even just “our neighbor”), Clayton was a boy about 6 and he needed a good horse for him and his sister to ride and Snoopy was the horse for the job. Snoopy was 28 when we sold him. As Clayton and his sister got older their need for a pony grew smaller and they eventually sold him to a family in Nebraska who had small kids and needed a good horse. Snoopy was 32. We later learned that Snoopy was being used as the rodeo horse he was destined to be by running barrels with tiny people holding on for dear life to an equally tiny saddle.

Snoopy died one winter when the owners turned him out to pasture and the weather turned icy and he froze in the Nebraska sand hills.

Snoopy was 38.

When my older brother and I still owned Snoopy, we had some city slicker cousins come for a visit one summer. They were from Virginia and they didn’t have any horses. Since we had our own big horses and they weren’t experienced enough to ride solo we decided that best course of action would be to hook up the pony cart.

Snoopy had his own chariot. It was a two wheeled two person (4 if your butts were small enough) bench buggy. Dad had a full harness for him and he looked sharp with his hames all polished up and the black leather glistening in the sun…..well he would have had Dad ever taught us to hook all that crap up. But since we didn’t learn we made our own harness. We were the rip old ages of 6 and 7 and our cousins were 5 and 6. Again this was a different time when parents were allowed to let their kids play outside and no one would bother them and EVERYONE would discipline them. (Believe me I got just as many ass whippings from friends and neighbors of the parents as I did from the parents!)

So back to the buggy, We decided that all we really needed was something to keep the rails of the buggy up and attached to the horse. So we saddled Snoopy and backed him into the rails and tied the rails to his saddle. We then made reigns long enough to drive the buggy with by tying bailing twine to his existing reigns. We tested out our buggy and it worked perfectly. So we hollered all aboard and took off down the road.

We were seriously enjoying our ingenuity, and all of us were laughing as we drove around the countryside in our horse drawn carriage. It was a blast. We spent the better part of an hour driving around and seeing the sights, when we figured we all needed a drink. So we headed back to the house to water Snoopy and ourselves.

Here is where our happy adventure takes a turn for the “not so good”. Since it was summer time we were all either barefoot or wearing sandals, the wheels of the buggy were made out of bicycle tires and rims. Wire spokes and bare feet are not a good combination.

We were almost back to the house and naturally Snoopy was feeling like any other horse who was tired of dealing with a whole raft of kids, so he was in a big hurry to get home and roll in the dirt and shake all of the days events off his back. Here is where we earn our daily ass whipping!

My cousin’s foot somehow slipped out of the foot resting area and got wedged in between the frame and the wheel. Before we could get stopped Snoopy had decided that he was in a hurry to get home and so all of our urgings and shouts of “WHOA” fell on selective pony hearing. So as we were entering the yard, Cuz’s foot was being peeled like a potato and there was much crying on the part of BOTH city slicker cousins. Well I jumped out of the buggy and ran in front of Snoopy, while the older brother was sawing on the reigns trying to get him to stop. We finally got the beast under control and Older Brother ran for the house.

We knew we should have told the parents BEFORE but we figured they’d say no, so we didn’t want to ruin our fun.

Well the Parents had saw us pull up in the yard and the panic ensue so they were somewhat prepared for the “running and screaming” that generally followed one of our adventures. They rushed outside and got Snoopy to back up enough to get cousins leg un stuck from the wheel and then assessed the damage. It was noted that he would live and a couple of squirts of *Bactine* would make him right as rain, and that WE knew better.

It was that little sentence “We knew Better” that ALWAYS followed one of our adventures and it was always true. We did know better, but in our world knowing better and having fun very seldom ran in the same company. I don’t think a day went by in the 3 years that we lived in that house that we didn’t get an ass whipping. The funny part about that is had the parents known EVERYTHING that we did…well they would still be spanking our asses.

Next up….a solo adventure involving me, my prepubescent boy parts and why you should never pants a girl in school, or on the bus.

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