After many miles of gamboling about on a long, hot trail ride - uphill and downhill, through thick brush and lush forest, Pippi was bagged. Fortunately, we've been working on teaching Ringo to accept having small, squirmy puppies in the saddle and I was able to toss her on board, climb up after her and give her a ride back to the parking lot. Did Ringo turn a hair? Nope. Would I have believed that this would ever be possible on a horse that used to panic at the thought of being tied up/brushed/bridled/looked-at-funny? Never in a million years would it have entered my head that my skittish maniac of a horse would become the best little trail horse west of the Rockies. Jeez... I'm feeling some cowboy poetry coming on!
so cute!
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