Granddaughter loves animals. Her mum thought she’d appreciate a visit to see some ponies, so despite the wintry conditions, we set off on a very short car trip over the hill to a suburb with the unlikely name of Tomahawk (most likely a mangled version of its original Maori name) to find some horse flesh.
Oh! how granddaughter chortled when she saw these cute little shetlands in their winter coats …
We should have brought a carrot or an apple or two. Next time we will. However, despite us not offering them anything, the ponies waited patiently at the fence and allowed nearly-11-month-old granddaughter to pat their noses.
Horses (or ponies) never look very happy do they? To me it looks like they are under some form of perpetual sufferance to the humans who hold all the power.
I love them for it.
Granddaughter didn’t want to leave her new friends and resisted being put back into her car seat. I’ve learned since that this very common, age-appropriate, stiffening of the legs and arching of the back, is now termed ‘planking’.
Once granddaughter was reined in, so to speak, we left the three ponies to their winter paddock and ocean backdrop and my daughter in law drove to us to a warm cafe for two coffees and a *fluffy for granddaughter.
*Fluffies: a treat much favoured by littlees and made up of milk whipped into a state of high frothiness, then placed into a small container.
11th Letter In 