A Young Rider

A very young rider stood at a horse show beside her not-much-taller pony. Her arms were around the pony’s immaculately braided neck, and she was confiding something into one of its gray lop ears.  The girl saw me watching and, with no reticence whatsoever, she volunteered that she was telling her pony that the mistake that happened in the last class was entirely her fault and certainly not his.  “He’s a good pony, is he?” I asked.  “The best,” she beamed.  “I love him so much.”  Ever the inquiring reporter, I asked why.  “Because he makes me feel happier than anything else does.”  Others have tried to explain the effect that horses have on our lives, but has anyone said it any better?