I guess old-tymey farmers think it's okay to let ponies rot their hooves in their own shit for four months, and then trot them out onto our winding country-ish roads, pulling jaunty carriages over pavement. Old-tymey farmers also apparently wear goofy straw Sunday hats whilst doing this. Goofy straw hats of evil.
So anyway, Farmer Insane stopped putting her out after a week or so.
A Sunday or two ago, we were out of cheese danish, and I was feeling particularly cranky. Staring out the window, across the yard at the closed pony stall, I got all hormonal and pissed off. The kind of pissed off where you stand there arguing with imaginary old guys until you want to go kick some old guy's ass, but can't, because there is no one actually standing there.
I stalked out, opened the stall, and led her to her paddock so she could have a bit of the gorgeous day. HA. West Nile Virus in your ear, old man.
Carl and I packed up some stuff to go fishing (it was a GLORIOUS day for saving mammals and killing fish!), and loaded ourselves and Wendy into the car. As we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced smugly over to the paddock, where the pony was grazing happily. Or should have been.
Except that the back gate-the gate around the corner of the barn and thus not visible from the front gate-was open. And the pony was not in the paddock.
"HOLY SHIT! STOP STOP!! TURN AROUND HOLY SHIT!"
Carl yanked the car around right in the middle of the road, and tore back into driveway, and bumped over the yard to the back side of the barn.
"That gate is NEVER open. Why would it be open now? WHY???"
"Well, maybe you shouldn't interfere!"
"Yes I should! You know I should!"
"I know! I KNOW!"
He found her in the neighbor's yard, peaceably munching on the carefully manicured lawn. Personally, I think the neighbor owes this pony some grass. I mean, the neighbor is buddies with Farmer Insane, and condones his animal abuse by proxy. Neighbor Lawn Boy comes over at Farmer Insane's invitation to weed whack around our front steps and walk, because he agrees that we just don't do it right...but doesn't mind living sixty feet from a large animal who is slowly starving to death.
The latest development in all of this: Farmer Insane has begun again to let the pony outside again, but not in the enclosed paddock. The past few days, he had her roaming the yard behind the shop building, sort of penned in by his parked SUV on one end and some ladders (OF CARLS) that he tied together as a sort of makeshift fence on the other.
I'm not sure if I should do something about this. She is getting grass, and that's good. However, I fully expect to see her grazing her way across our front yard and moseying down the street one of these days.
I suppose that on that day, I can decide whether the time has come to blow this taco stand and ride a pony to Canada?