On second thought, maybe it's OK that dinner time is the most exciting thing that happens around here

Yesterday's post title may have indicated that sometimes things aren't exciting enough around here. I meant nothing of the sort - something interesting is ALWAYS happening around here. And the most interesting things happen when the hubby is out of town, or better yet, out of the country. You may recall that last time he was gone, the shed roof collapsed. He's in France for the first half of this week, so I was just waiting to see what the surprise would be.

As it turns out, there was an extra pony when I went out to feed this morning.

Cute little guy, a buckskin that lives three houses down. We always see him when we head out on trail rides, as we pass by his fenceline (albeit at a distance) and he usually comes over to see us. Poor thing lives by himself, so I'm sure he's lonely for company.

I briefly contemplated keeping him (he is a super-cute little booger), but decided he was too short to do me much good. So after feeding the boys and refilling water, I grabbed a halter and lead, plus the feed scoop with some grain in it, and hopped over the back fence to halter him and take him home.

The first challenge was getting the halter ON him. He wasn't overly interested in being caught, so I did the usual trick: turn your back, look at the ground, then slowly back toward them while rattling the feed (Red and Saga watched this process with much interest). Worked like a charm - he was eating out of my hand when I slipped the rope over his neck and the halter over his nose.

The next challenge was getting him home. I figured this would be mostly easy, except that I had to tromp through two large fields of thigh-high wet grass to get to his house from behind my fence. No problem, it was a fairly straight line... except that it turns out there's a fence between the field and his driveway. Awesome. So I tromped back through the grass, down the path to the road, then down the road and over to his driveway.

Unfortunately, once we hit the pavement, he pretty much decided he'd had enough. He wasn't shod, although his feet were in good condition, and it was clear that he was uncomfortable on the pavement. So I sort of ended up dragging him down the road to his driveway. And the driveway was even worse - caliche with rocks. He dug his heels in, and I grabbed his halter and pulled. About that time I was starting to be glad that he was smaller than Red, because had he been Saga-sized, we never would have gotten back to his house.

So we make it to his gate, where I let us in, and then I try to find the front door to the house. And... there isn't one. So I'm traipsing around the house in my sexy oversized t-shirt, yoga pants, and colorful rain boots (did I mention I hadn't brushed my hair before going out to feed? Or my teeth, for that matter?) at 7 a.m. (because it's now taken me 45 minutes to walk this damn horse home), trying to figure out how to attract someone's attention. Finally, through the window I see a guy sitting on a couch watching TV, and I start waving madly. He comes out, frowns at the horse, and says:

"Well, I'll be. Where'd you find him? I didn't even know he was missing!"

I explained about our little adventure that morning and how, while walking him home, I'd noticed that the barb wire fence (GASP!) was maybe a foot off the ground near the front of the pasture. I suggested that Wrangler (as I learned that was his name) had simply stepped over it and come for a neighborly visit. To which the erstwhile horse owner responded:

"Well, I'll be. Horse has been in that pasture for 20 years, and never had anything happen like this."

$20 says it'll happen again if that fence doesn't get fixed. Not that I mind having a cute pony show up to visit, but the 45 minute trek through the mud and wet grass, in 99% humidity at 6:15 a.m. is not something I'd care to repeat anytime soon.

Just sayin'.