The therapeutic riding program I am involved with lost their (our!) pony yesterday. She was a once in a lifetime pony. Sunny was donated to the program by a lovely family who had purchased her for their children. The children lost interest, and the parents realized that she needed a job, and contacted us. Somebody put a lot of time and effort into this little one, she rode, drove, trailered like a champ, and was overall just a jem. Her personality was large, it was as if nobody told her she was barely 13 hands. She ran the herd, keeping all the others in line. We took her to the county fair one year to show in the cart classes. She was fascinated with the Clydesdales and other big draft horses, we could tell she saw herself as one of them. She was always so perfect for the little children who rode her in the program. One little boy started at 3 years old, he had very poor muscle tone in his torso, and could hardly sit up. Sunny knew when he began to fatigue, and would slow right down for him. She also had an uncanny ability to tell when 30 minutes had passed – when the lesson was over, she would try and stop at the gate every.single.time. She was smart that one.
I know we did the right thing by her, she had two diseases going on, and while either one had a chance of being managed had it been the only problem, the medication for one exacerbated the other, and vice versa. I am sad for her riders, past who love her so, present she was providing with such joy, and future who never got to experience the cute little bounce from her trot, or the immediate nuzzle she would give her rider when they dismounted. Selfishly, I am sad for myself. I had grand hopes that Sunny would be the one to teach Bean how to properly kick on past a gate. I had also hoped that when it came time for her to retire, I could take her and provide a grand retirement, as she deserved. I guess it just was not meant to be. You are sorely missed, sweet, sweet Sunny-Pony.
