Tonka's Deal

The sun was shining in full force, taunting me with its cool brilliance through the icy nip of February’s Northern Wind. It dared me to brave the world off the property for the first time this year with cravings for the feeling of my mare’s strength and power between my legs. Teased by desire, the urge to ride was nearly overwhelming. Every fiber of my being pleaded with me to climb on the back of my mount and gallop off into the last of the day’s radiant light. 

I had chosen Punkin Pie twice in a row before winter set in, a cardinal sin in the eyes of Tonka. He met me at the gate. All 350 pounds of his 10hh body stood stiff in front of my mare as if to say, “If you want her, you’re going to have to go through me”. Shetland ponies are akin to elephants in two ways. They are incredibly strong, and they never forget. 

For 80% of 22 years I have had Tonka, we have alternated, big horse, little horse, to keep things as fair as possible for the adventure seeking VSE. There is an unspoken agreement between us that he will live a long and healthy life, continuing to be the best pony ever, provided I continue to make him feel like an equal to the horses who are as large in body as he is in personality. I have only broken that deal this once and the thought of my favorite fluffy buddy dying of broken heart soon rid me of the need to ride. 

The cold became meaningless and for the first time this year, I found the energy to venture out between jobs. It was a welcome break from the screens that fill my long work days despite the bite in chilling sea air. 

Tonka looked at the world through the weary winter eyes for fresh signs of spring. The world had changed since he had last seen it, partly from the change of season but mostly from the deterioration of his sight. We took things slow and enjoyed some time investigating the landscape. 
The ground was covered in the corpses of grass from seasons passed, creating a thick blanket of shelter to protect the new grass to come. Slowly decomposing, the warmth of last year’s dead seeps into the soil nurturing the dormant roots that will soon spring to life. After a good sniff to confirm that the first of the season’s shoots had not arrived, we made our way across the street and onto the trail. Its pristine beauty accentuated by the clarity of the frozen air. 

Peaceful solitude accompanied us as we walked the meager route. The glory of evening sunlight sprinkled itself on the forest floor dappling the landscape with flecks of golden light. Every breath of crisp cold air a chilling reminder that soon the rains would return. How long will they last this year? Would this be the last of the sun until next spring? My heart sunk as I remembered the years our islands spent without a break from the relentless rain. I tucked the invasive thoughts back into the darkness where they belonged and brought my mind back path before me as it ejected Tonkan and I back out onto the road. 

I’m not sure if it was a hint of spring air, being away from home, or simply being free of the paddock, but as soon as we hit the pavement Tonka offered a trot in hand. Shocked, I obliged and the two of us took off at jog down the road towards home. 

While it was shocking that my slow poke of an old man suddenly had a return of youthful vigor, what shocked me more was how easily I was able to trot with him. There was a time when I ran 10 km a day, but since fibromyalgia stole my life running has not been on my list of abilities. 
We happily trotted along together as we passed the driveway and started towards town. Tonka, suddenly realizing I tricked him into trotting away from home, stopped dead in his tracks. A halt I let him maintain for a moment as the sudden outburst of activity nearly blew up my ill prepared lungs. 

After asking for a few more steps towards town we turned and made our way back up the driveway, huffing and puffing. Once we had finished the grueling ascent, he strutted through the paddock gate and held his head high as he passed the sulking Punkin Pie.