Cindy and Cinder

From the time I was a toddler,  I loved horses. Big ones, little ones, I loved them all.  I remember as a child about 5 or 6 years old, visiting a neighbor who had shetland ponies, and clamoring to ride.  One of the teenage boys who owned the ponies, put me up on that pony and I was in Horsey Heaven!  He led me around the yard for quite a while. I think I might have cried when I had to get off.

I also collected horse figurines and toy horses. My favorites were kept in a shadow box on my bedroom wall. I was devastated when some rowdy cousins visited and knocked my horses to the floor, breaking them in tiny pieces.  

I especially loved palomino horses back then, with the golden bodies and white or cream manes and tails. Roy Rogers rode one of them, and although he was my hero, Trigger was the celebrity I especially wanted to see. My parents took me to the state fair in Topeka when I was about 8 and we stood in line for hours to get in. I was disappointed that we couldn't get any closer to the Rogers family or their beautiful horses, but it was still a treasured memory for many  years. 

When I was 10, we got our first horse. We named her Cindy. I really don't remember why we picked that name, but I can remember singing the song "Cindy" while I rode her around the pasture. But the first time I got on her was rather embarrassing to me. 

I was too short to jump up on her back, so my dad cupped his hand, I stepped on it and he boosted me up and over.  Unfortunately, he boosted too far, and I flew over Cindy's back and landed in a pile of manure on the ground on the other side.  Daddy thought it was hilarious, and so did my siblings, but I was not impressed.  Daddy insisted I get back on, and didn't boost me quite so far this time.  

We rode that horse around for a long time. She was half quarter-horse, a eighth Arabian, an eighth appaloosa, and a quarter Shetland.  She was white with a brown cap on her head, a brown spot on her chest, and a long brown saddle on her back.  

My dad talked about having a colt from Cindy when she got older.  Someone Daddy called over brought in an Appaloosa stallion and the horses had a romantic interlude. The result was a dark brown colt with black mane and tail.  We named him Cinder.  He was always tagging along when we rode Cindy.

Cindy was an ornery nag.  She knew we girls weren't strong enough to make her mind, so she'd do things like lie down and roll over to make us have to jump off or get smashed.  If there were trees or a barn door, she'd try to brush us off under them.  Fences were another way to rid her of our annoyance.

When Cinder had grown to a yearling, he had a terrible accident that almost killed hun. He was always running around, chasing butterflies and kicking and bucking up a storm.  Well after one particular wet storm, he slammed on his brakes and slid, right into a barbed wire fence.  The gash he received on his chest was about 8 inches long, to the bone. His chest was gaping open and bleeding. It became badly infected.  The veterinarian gave us medication to give him  and we had to give him epsom salt baths to the wound twice  a day.  It was quite painful for him because he'd quiver and shake while we did his treatments.  But he did heal, although with a large scar.  

He never did get broke to ride while we had him.  When I left for college, my dad sold the horses, and I never saw them again.  I had a few pictures of them at one time, but I don't any longer.  I never outgrew my love of horses though.

Next time, I'll write about riding with my friends.