This story was originally posted a couple of years ago. It seemed appropriate to recycle it today on what would have been Daddy’s 88th birthday.
Papaw Borrowed a Pony
This looks like a fairly ordinary picture of a man with a couple of kids on a pony. The man is my father. We’ll call him Papaw for the rest of this story because that’s what his grandchildren called him. The kids are his two oldest grandchildren, Cindy and Slade. There was a third grandchild at this time, but Blake isn’t in the picture. You’ll find out why later.
In the summer of 1983, my parents talked my brother and sister-in-law into letting my then seven-year-old niece spend a month with them. Cindy and her parents lived in Florida making a trip to Kentucky for a month a big deal. I know the grandparents were a little afraid that she’d get here and immediately want to go home. Papaw thought the key to keeping her from being homesick was to get her anything she wanted. So, when they were arranging the visit, he asked her what she wanted.
Cindy’s answer? A pony. [Uh oh.]
Papaw might have flinched for a minute, but he started looking for a pony. He called someone he knew had one and offered to buy it. The owner said he wasn’t really interested in selling the pony. Papaw said he wasn’t really interested in buying it either since he only needed it for a month. In the end, the man agreed to loan him the pony for the duration of Cindy’s visit.
I’m not sure if Papaw had considered the logistics of having a pony for a month — you know, little things like where to put it. He didn’t have a barn or a shed or even a fenced-in yard. Just in case you ever need to know, it’s possible to keep a pony tied to a big rope in the backyard.
See the rope?
I don’t remember the pony’s real name but Cindy called her Sugarfoot. Slade and Blake called her Penelope.
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