Issie and the Christmas Pony

by Stacy Gregg

  Issie needn’t have worried. Mystic seemed quite happy with his new home. The little grey walked straight up to her until he stood in front of her, his snowy face not more than a metre away as he fixed her with a level stare from those gentle, coal-black eyes.

  “Hey, boy,” Issie said, smiling back at him. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.” She reached into her coat pocket and produced a carrot, extending her arm to offer it to her pony.

  Mystic took a step towards her and stretched out his neck to reach the carrot, using his velvety soft lips to snuffle it up out of her open palm. “It’s OK.” Issie’s voice was choked with emotion as she spoke to him. “You’re home now, Mystic. I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. I’ll never lose you again, I promise.”

  Her hands were trembling as she reached out to stroke the pony’s neck. She ran her fingers through the coarse ropey fibres of his mane, feeling the smooth sleekness of his dapple coat underneath. And then, before she could stop herself or worry any more about spooking him, she had flung both her arms around Mystic’s neck. She hugged him, hanging on tight, her face buried in Mystic’s silvery mane, inhaling his sweet pony smell. It was the best smell in the world, and the best feeling she’d ever had in her life.

  Issie could have stayed like that forever. But there were people waiting for her. She looked up and saw Stella and Kate looking on impatiently. Her friends had never met Mystic before. They wanted to finally say hello to the little grey pony that had caused all this fuss.

  Issie gave the girls a wave. “We’re coming!” she called.

  She didn’t have a halter to lead her horse back, but it didn’t matter. She just kept one hand wrapped in Mystic’s mane and the little grey seemed to understand that she wanted him to follow, falling into step beside her as they walked back together across the paddock.

  “Come on, boy,” she murmured to her pony. “They’re all waiting for you. It’s time to show them how special you really are.”

  12

  Forever

  Years later, Issie still remembered that Christmas as the best one she ever had. The moment when she had been reunited with her pony was kept locked in her heart forever. Whenever she felt sad or lonely or nothing seemed to be going right, she thought about what Avery and her mum and her friends had done for her that Christmas. Mystic’s arrival had turned out to be more significant than any of her friends could ever know. It’s funny, Issie thought now, how a single event can turn your life around so that nothing will ever be the same again.

  “Remember that day?” Kate laughed, chopping up the last of her apples. “It was so cool the way you totally lost it when you saw him in the paddock for the first time.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Stella, “but the best bit was in the garden at your house when you thought the bike was your real present and you were trying to be nice and not hurt your mum’s feelings! Honestly, Issie, you should have seen the look on your face!”

  “You thought that was the best bit?” Issie was boggled by Stella’s sense of humour sometimes.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mrs Brown said. “I know I shouldn’t have done that to you. But Stella’s right-it was hilarious. You tried so hard not to look heartbroken when we took off the blindfold and you saw that bicycle!”

  “Yeah, well,” Issie grinned, “it turned out OK in the end. I’m still using that bike; it was a good present.”

  The best present, though, had been Mystic. Two days after Christmas, Issie had saddled up her new pony and, along with Stella and Kate and the rest of the Chevalier Point Pony Club, she had set off to pony camp.

  Trekking out was the perfect way to get to know her new horse. Issie had been a little nervous as they set off across the open fields. Would Mystic be wellbehaved or would he get worked up and spook or shy at every shadow like some horses do? Issie should have known better than to worry. Mystic was the most bombpoof and well-mannered pony on the trek. He loved being out in the open countryside and as she rode him carefully and considerately, with her hands always light against the bit and her voice always calm and gentle, the bond between pony and rider grew even stronger.

  When they returned from pony camp, Mystic and Issie fell into a blissful routine. Each day she would cycle down to the River Paddock to check on her pony. In summer she would ride him out on hacks with Stella and Kate, or sometimes she would ride out alone down the road to Avery’s farm where she would meet her instructor for lessons in the arena.

  In winter, even when it was too wet to ride, Issie would bike down to the River Paddock every day to make sure that Mystic’s cover was on straight and to check that he was dry and warm. Sometimes, if it was very chilly and there was frost on the ground, she would mix up warm mash into Mystic’s hard feed. Then she would watch the pony as he snuffled down his food, giggling at the plumes of warm, steamy breath coming out of his nostrils whenever he lifted his head out of the bucket.

  Mystic’s dapple-grey coat had grown shaggy under his rugs during the winter months, so when spring finally came and he began to shed his winter coat, little tufts of grey hair were left lying everywhere from the curry comb she used to groom him.

  As for Issie, the changes in her over the months weren’t so obvious, but they were just as real. Now that she finally had her dream pony she was determined to be the best rider that she could be. She learnt fast under Avery’s tuition, mastering her first pony club D certificate with ease. As her skills grew, so did the bond between her and Mystic. Their understanding of each other became stronger every day. Issie had compiled a mental list of all her pony’s silly quirks: how he loved carrots but wasn’t fussed about peppermints; how he loved to be groomed in that sweet spot just behind his ears; how sensitive he was when you did up his girth and liked it to be eased up slowly.

  Horses are not angels of course. It is not unusual to have a pony that bites or kicks, bucks or shies. In fact, some will do all four things at once! But not Mystic. He didn’t have a mean or naughty bone in his swaybacked body. He was the perfect pony, there was no doubt about it, and Issie loved him absolutely and completely.

  And then, a year after Mystic came to the River Paddock, Issie lost him again. If that Christmas Day when Mystic arrived had been the best day of her life, the day at pony club when he was killed had to be the worst.

  Issie’s mum and her friends knew how devastating Mystic’s death was for her. They felt her pain, and they didn’t want to hurt her more, and so, as time passed by, they seldom, if ever, mentioned his name. But in the kitchen on Christmas Eve it seemed right somehow to talk about him, to remember the little grey pony that meant so much to her.

  “Mystic was really special, wasn’t he?” Stella said as they stood together. “He used to make me laugh-the way he would always whinny out to Coco if they were in separate paddocks.”

  “He was a really good jumper,” said Kate. “It was like he didn’t realise how old he was. Mystic thought he was still a colt.”

  Issie giggled at this. It was true; she had never thought of the grey gelding as being old-even though he was.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous,” Mrs Brown said to her daughter, looking serious now as she wrapped an arm around Issie’s shoulder, “but I do believe he knew what he was doing when he saved you that day at pony club. I saw that accident happen and it was the strangest thing, the way he reared up to face that truck and threw you backwards so that you were clear. I had never seen Mystic rear in his life, but it was as if he was trying to get you out of the way, like he wanted to protect you.”

  She hugged her daughter tight. “I really do think he did it for you, Isadora.” She smiled. “Sometimes I feel like he’s still here with you. Do you know what I mean? I know that sounds crazy, but…”

  “No, Mum,” Issie said, choking back her tears. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all…”

  If only her mum and Stella and Kate knew about the very special bond Issie still shared with Mystic.

  When Issie had promised her pony th
at she would never lose him again, she had meant it. Forever, she had said. She remembered that. And so did Mystic. Death hadn’t been the end of her bond with the grey pony. He was still hers somehow-and she still belonged to him. Whenever she needed his help, Mystic was there for her, like a guardian angel. Not a ghost, but a real horse, always by her side. He would never leave her and she knew that. She had faith in him.

  Mrs Brown gave Issie a squeeze and then released her from her hug. She looked around the kitchen. “Would it be too much to ask for my kitchen back?” she smiled at the girls. “I need to make the pudding for tomorrow and I don’t want to get chaff and alfalfa in it by mistake.”

  “It’s OK, Mrs B,” Stella grinned. “We’re nearly done. We just have to pack the mixture into the ice-cream tubs.”

  Five tubs were set up along the bench, each one had slices of carrot and apple laid in a pattern at the bottom. “It’s like a jelly mould,” Kate explained to Mrs Brown. “When we turn the cake tins upside down the carrots and apples will be on top as decoration.”

  “Why are there five cakes?” Mrs Brown wanted to know. “Don’t you only need four?”

  “Ummm-I made an extra one,” Issie said.

  “Greedy Blaze!” Stella giggled. Issie didn’t say anything.

  It took the girls another half an hour to finish the cakes. When they were done and the kitchen was cleaned, they let the cakes set while they watched a Christmas movie. It took a long time for Issie, Stella and Kate to say goodbye. There was much hugging and cries of Merry Christmas, despite the fact that they would all be seeing each other the next day for Christmas lunch on the beach. Eventually, Kate’s mum, who had arrived to take Stella and Kate home, got tired of waiting and leant on the car horn to hurry them up. Issie waved goodbye to her friends, waiting until they drove out of sight. Then she lifted her three ice-cream containers into the basket on the front handlebars of her blue bike and set off towards Winterflood Farm.

  It was getting late by the time she arrived there, almost dinner time, but there was still at least an hour of daylight left. The days were so long at this time of the year, it wouldn’t get properly dark until eight.

  The sound of the bike tyres on the gravel driveway alerted Avery to Issie’s arrival and he was at the front door waiting for her by the time she had parked the bike.

  “Christmas Cake? For me? You shouldn’t have!” he grinned.

  “I didn’t!” Issie grinned back. “You know they’re for the ponies.”

  “Well, actually, I’ve got some Christmas cake already. I baked it myself,” Avery said. “Why don’t you come in and have a slice after you’ve fed the ponies? I’ll put the kettle on. Blaze and Nightstorm are both out the back in the magnolia paddock and I’ve told them that you’re bringing presents.”

  Issie nodded. “See you inside in a minute then!” She picked the three cakes up out of the basket and headed past the rows of neat, green hedging and post and rail fencing, around the side of the house towards the paddocks. Avery was right. Blaze and Storm had been expecting her. They both had their heads over the fence waiting for her and Issie marvelled at the similarities between mother and son.

  Storm was getting bigger every day. The colt was only a few months old, but his legs were so long it was clear already that he would grow bigger than his mother. His conformation had the same stocky, powerful build as his father, the great stallion Marius. His face, though, had the beauty and finesse of his dam’s Arabian bloodlines. Their colouring was different-Blaze was chestnut while Storm was a deep russet bay-but both mother and son shared the same striking marking, a broad white blaze.

  “Hey, you two,” Issie said. “I’ve got Christmas cakes for you.”

  Blaze and Storm might not have known what a Christmas cake was, but they knew hard feed when they saw it. Issie upended the ice-cream tubs into their feed bins and was pleased that the feed stayed in a perfect mould shape and did actually look a bit like Christmas cake. She smiled at the sight of her perfect creations, and then laughed out loud as both Storm and Blaze shoved their muzzles into the feed bins and bit into their Christmas gifts, instantly mushing it up.

  Issie stood there for a moment watching her horses eat. And then she took the third ice-cream tub and upended that one too, into another feed bin which she set down alongside the two horses.

  Would he come for it? Would he be here today? Issie didn’t know. Mystic usually only turned up if there was trouble afoot, at a time when she desperately needed him. And she didn’t need him today, not really. But it was Christmas. A time when you should be with the ones you love. Even if Mystic couldn’t be here with them, she wanted him to know that he was in her heart. She hoped her horse knew that even when he wasn’t here, he was never, ever forgotten.

  “Merry Christmas, Mystic,” said Issie. She stood in the paddock with tears in her eyes, waiting and hoping. The light was fading now and it was getting dark. For a moment longer she stood there. Then she gave Blaze and Storm a pat and walked inside the house where Avery was waiting for her with tea.

  At the back door, she paused for a moment to shuck off her boots, but she didn’t turn around. If she had turned at that moment, she would have seen that there was a third horse in the paddock with Blaze and Storm. A little grey gelding, about fourteen hands high, his dapples faded and his back swayed with age.

  All Issie needed to do was look back over her shoulder and she would have seen the grey pony standing there, eating his Christmas treat alongside Blaze and her foal. But Issie didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She knew he was there.

  Pony A to Z

  Are you a totally horsey girl?

  Check out this glossary of

  horsey words and see how many

  you already know!

  A

  AIDS - the signals a rider uses to let their horse know what she wants him to do. There are two kinds of aids natural and artificial. Natural aids include using the seat, legs and hands. Artifical aids include using whips, spurs, martingales and nosebands.

  ARENA - also known as a school or manege, the arena is a purpose-built area, usually made from sawdust or sand, where you can ride and train your horse.

  B

  BAY - a reddish-brown coloured horse with black points and black mane and tail.

  BIT - made of metal with rings on either side to connect it to the bridle. The bit goes into the horses mouth and the rider uses it to guide and control their horse. There are lots of different kinds of bits. One of the most common bits is a snaffle.

  BRIDLE - this fits on the horses head. The reins are attached to it, which the rider holds to guide and control the horse.

  C

  CANTER - faster than a walk or a trot, the canter is a three-beat pace.

  CAVESSON - a type of noseband worn on the horses bridle.

  CAVALETTI - low jumps constructed from a single bar that is nailed to two crossed poles at each corner. Cavaletti are only little jumps but they can be stacked up to make bigger fences or used for gridwork.

  CHESTNUT - a chestnut horse is ginger or reddish in colour with a matching mane and tail.

  COLT - a young male horse.

  D

  DUN - dun-coloured horses vary from mouse to golden, and generally have black or chocolate points and a black or chocolate mane and tail.

  DUNG - horse poo!

  E

  EARS - you can tell whether the horse is happy or not by its ears. Horses will put their ears flat back against their head when they are angry or frightened.

  ELIMINATED - if a rider has three refusals on a showjumping or cross-country course they will be eliminated or disqualified.

  F

  FARRIER - once known as the blacksmith, the farrier is the person who puts metal shoes on your horse. Horses need to be shod at least every six weeks.

  FILLY - a young female horse.

  FLANK - a very sensitive area of the horse located on their side, just in front of the hind leg.

  FLAXEN - som
e chestnut horses have a flaxen mane and tail, meaning they are pale blonde in colour.

  FOAL - a baby horse.

  G

  GALLOP - the fastest of the horse’s four paces. When a horse gallops it lifts all four feet off the ground at once.

  GELDING - a male horse that has been gelded is like a cat that has been neutered.

  GIRTH - the thick piece of leather that goes around the horses belly to hold the saddle in place.

  GREY - a grey horse has both white and black hairs throughout its coat. There are different kinds of grey: a dapplegrey has circular blooms of grey, especially on the rump; a fleabitten grey has tufts of dark hair, a bit like freckles.

  H

  HALTER - the halter is worn around the horses head and allows the rider to control the horse while they are on the ground tying up the horse for grooming, feeding etc.

  HANDS HIGH - the height of a horse or pony is measured in hands. One hand equals four inches. Measurement is made from the ground next to the hoof up to the wither. A pony is any animal that measures up to 14.2 hands high. A horse is any animal larger than 14.2.

  HOCK - the area halfway up the back of a horses hind leg, where a point (hock) sticks out.

  I

  IMPULSION - the push or energy a horse uses to move forward powerfully. This is a term that dressage riders often use.

  IN FOAL - when a mare is in foal it means she is pregnant and is going to have a baby.