Official Mascot Backstories Thread!

Please post below your Mascot's Backstory!
Share with the rest of HP how your Mascot came to be/who they are/what's been going on with their lives/fictional/non-fictional, etc.
Include their Name & ID# in your post!

A separate thread post is required per mascot entry!

Backstories are due on Sunday April 24th!
Failure to post in here by the due date will equal in an immediate disqualification!

Edited to update new extension date!

- saving for Gravestones #143362 - 

One of addiction’s stereotypes is that it only affects those with dysfunctional families or a history of abuse. But that is not true.

“I wish I had some story to tell you about my horrible, abusive, and neglected childhood. But I don’t. I came from a normal family.
Growing up, I had a lot of insecurity. I fought with eating disorders. I couldn’t cope with looking in the mirror. When I was about 15, I started drinking. As soon as I drank, I became a different person. That, to me, was freedom – but it later became prison.
It was my idea to bring drinking to my friends. We went to a competitive high school. When we started doing it, everyone else could pick it up and leave it alone until the next time. I couldn’t do that, which baffled me. Why could everyone else stop after the weekend and I was left obsessing about drinking all day every day?
Gravestones’ alcohol use started affecting her everyday life. It hindered her from doing the things she loved, it certainly damaged the relationships she had with her loved ones.
I just kept lowering and lowering my standards. When I went to college, it really took off. I joined a sorority, made friends with drug dealers.  I was free to drink and use the way I wanted to. It made me feel powerful, like I was unstoppable. And then it stopped working. My alcoholism had progressed to the point in which I couldn’t get drunk anymore. The solution I had found to deal with life had failed me. I had a miscarriage, I was so out of touch I didn’t even know that I was pregnant. I felt alone, confused, and broken.  My University asked me to leave and everything came to a halt. It was the catalyst that led me to surrender.
I came home and I decided to find a therapist for treatment. I told her all of my problems and she said I was an alcoholic. ‘No.’ I said. ‘I have highlights and a French manicure, there’s no way I’m an alcoholic.' I didn’t know I had this body that worked against me. Once I started drinking, I couldn’t stop. If I did manage to stop, my mind told me that I could drink like normal people.
My therapist introduced me to my first sponsor who sent me to my first 12 step meeting. I had every excuse not to go. But once I got there, I stayed.  I reluctantly kept going. There was something about the people there that I couldn’t put my finger on that kept me going. I know now that it was the light inside of them that spoke to me.
Getting sober at 21 wasn’t easy. All of my peers were still at college partying while I was embarking on a spiritual journey. It was the most difficult and most brave thing I have ever done.
The twelve steps are about spirituality. They’re not about sobriety. They’re about growing along spiritual lines, and sobriety is a by-product of that. Living by spiritual principles is not something that other 21-year olds were doing. I had to start my life from scratch. Everything that I believed in, everything that I was about, and my perception on life had to change.
My recovery has been a journey. As a woman, part of my journey is about finding my voice and figuring out who I am. After nearly a decade of living in recovery, I can tell you that long-term sobriety is not for the faint of heart. A lot has happened in these nine and a half years. At three years of sobriety, I buried my best friend in the world. It broke my heart and healed me in innumerable ways at the same time. I sought spirituality and a connection with my higher power with a desperation that I never had before.
The challenge for me now is not to fight urges to drink, but to stay passionate about recovery and excited about spirituality. Long-term sobriety is about constantly seeking – seeking to grow, seeking to help others, and seeking what my truth is and living it. It’s about self-reflection, remaining teachable, staying humble, and not compromising my morals regardless of the worldly consequences.
Gravestones’ recovery has been as much about finding herself and living her truth but rather about reclaiming her life from alcoholism. Now with a new life, she has her confidence back.
My sponsor told me a story once. She was getting her hair cut and this little girl next to her looked at herself in the mirror and said, ‘Oh my God! Look how cute I am!’ And I just thought to myself, that’s how I feel every single day. I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. I know and accept exactly who I am!

The only way to do everything on your own is to figure out what is happening and get ahead of it Gravestones is about preference and staying true to your sobriety there is a way out for everyone and it isn’t easy

- Baihu #365403 -

Ever since he was a young colt, Baihu has heard nothing other than how endangered his best friend, Ryker's, kind was in the world. First from Grandpa Bengal, Ryker's grandfather. Ryker's papa. Then his own father, Everest, who was best friends since childhood with Ryker's papa. As a result of all his childhood bedtime stories and his own love for Ryker, he's determined from a young age that he was going to save his best friend from sure extinction, so here he is to raise awareness around the world of HP.

"Hi y'all! My name's Baihu. Yes, I'm an Exmoor Pony. What do I have to do with tigers being endangered you might ask. Well, you see my best friend, Ryker, is a white tiger. And in 2010, tigers were considered an endangered species with only 3,200 of their kind represented in the world. This is concerning to me because, you see, I grew up with tigers. They've been the best and most loyal friends of my family for generations and I want my own offspring to be able to have that same experience when my girl, Waghoba, and I decide to be fruitful and multiply. Waghoba is in total agreement with me on this since she hails from the country of India and is named after the Indian tiger deity. In partnership with Ryker and Waghoba, we were able to sway the leaders of our home countries of China and India to help us spread awareness and create the commitment known as Tx2 between China, India, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Nepal, Russia, Thailand, and Vietnam in 2010, which by the way was the last Chinese year of the tiger before 2022. The goal of this project was to double the global tiger popluation in the next 10 years which is up this year by the way. Hence the name Tx2, "Tigers times two." It was the most ambitious recovery effort ever undertaken for a single species! Since then, Waghoba's homeland of India alone has become home to 60 percent of the world’s tigers and approved 14 new tiger conservation sites, and Russia tripled the tiger population in its land of the Leopard National Park. Not to mention we've met some interesting animals (and people) along the way including the four symbols of the Chinese constellations: the Black Tortoise of the North, the Azure Dragon of the East, the Vermilion Bird of the South, and Baihu, the White Tiger of the West, after whom I was named. The Black Tortoise of the North is the most feisty one of them all I might add! Who'd have guessed?!!

Who knew that only 2 Exmoors and 1 white tiger could make this much of a difference in the world! But we did it! Now tigers will be around for years to come!"

The Riddler's life began in a most extraordinary way. He woke up in an abandoned lab with no other horse in site. He looked around and was puzzled by what he saw. There was a human, of course at the time The Riddler didn't know any better. He didn't know any of his family or herd. Edward Nigma was his only caregiver. Edward had a strange way about him, he was always using different puns and riddles to teach him things. The Riddler got very good at solving any puzzle Edward threw at him.

Edward taught The Riddler everything he knew. At the age of 3 The Riddler had grown so clever he decided to venture away from the lab. He stumbled upon a herd of horses and it absolutely puzzled him. He was not like the other horses. He grew confused. This was not a feeling he was used to, nor did he like it! He grew angry. He used his knowledge and riddles no longer for good. Why was he different he thought. 

He began to get into trouble. His name was in and out of the papers! Who could stop him? Edward had mentioned one thing to him that he had stuck in his mind. Riddle me this, riddle me that, whose afraid of the big black bat? But what did it mean? It was one thing he was never able to understand. 

The Riddler was causing so much havoc in the city. He decided he had better let the things cool down for a bit. He stumbled upon a most peculiar pasture. It had a arch with a pink bow on it. It looked so welcoming and the most beautiful horse he had ever seen was out in the front pasture. She had a familiar, almost enchanting way about her. The Ridder warmed up to her immediately. It was almost as if he had known her all his life. They were so similar, but so different.

Her name was Enchantress and she longed to find her stolen foal. The Riddler spoke of Edward and where he had grown up. They listened to each others stories almost flabbergasted. Could it be? They both felt a strong bond but how could they know for sure? The Riddler had a completely different look he was white&lime green dun with question mark spots, he looked nothing like her! Although he hated to leave the comfort of Enchantress, he had to know where he came from and he knew just who to ask.

"I knew you would return." Edward smiled with an evil grin. The Riddler asked him how he came to be. Of course, Edward had an answer. It turned out he had stolen The Riddler from a ranch just outside the city. He mixed up a wicked concoction and turned his coat a lime green and embedded question marks all over him. It would be the ULTIMATE riddle to be solved. Edward couldn't believe The Riddler had found his mother. What lead him there? The Riddler had softened a bit when he met his mother, but being back with Edward hearing the truth about how he came to be turned him right back to his villainous ways. He could never be normal, he could never live amongst the ranch with the others. 

The Riddler is roaming the streets causing havoc to anyone who can't solve his riddles!

for 

https://horsephenomena.com/horses.php?id=364736

Skelletor's Intergalactic Vizslas

Supermassive Sugar Punch: The Beginning

          As the lilac moon ascended boldly from its slumber, so too did Sugar and his kin. They emerged from their cluster of grass and mud dens in twos and threes, barking greetings at one another as they celebrated the birth of a new night. They made for the shallows of the great lake upon pairs of willowy legs, like graceful lupine ghosts moving amongst the darkness. Warm water rippled in the moonlight, lapping hungrily at their rust-coloured knees as they assembled amongst the reeds. Mothers yipped at their young as their paws sunk deep into the silt. One by one they raised their muzzles toward the lustrous moon and howled, long and sorrowful.

          Sugar watched with moonlit eyes as his father led the procession. He stood sentinel amongst the throng, towering above with a coat of moon-kissed copper that shimmered ethereal in the darkness. Battered skulls surrounded his paws, rattling gently as he moved between his people. Sugar watched, enthralled by the enormity of him.

          Before long, his attention waned, and he yipped as little silver fish gave his spindly legs fleeting kisses before dashing away. Soon enough, the ritual was over, silent ripples upon the water the only proof of their game.

          The pack dispersed as a creeping mist settled upon the great lake, bathing the moonlit water in a writhing cloud. Sugar lingered with his father, muzzle to muzzle, as they stood watching fireflies dance between the mangroves.

          “Do you understand why we do this?” He asked.

          Sugar met his eyes. He posed the same question every night, but he answered anyway. “To keep the wolves away.”

          “Do you believe this?”

          Sugar nodded with a resolute “yes.”

          His father sighed deeply. “It is time you learned the truth.” He raised his head high, and howled ancient, arcane sounds. A faint glow emanated from beneath their paws, slowly at first and then picking up speed, covering the lake in a wash of warm light. Sugar glanced beneath the crystalline water and gasped as he realised his little fish friends were not fish at all, but tiny wisp-like beings with mournful faces, skittering amongst the silt. He followed Sugar’s gaze, meeting his eyes with weighted knowledge.

          “Vizslas do not protect this ancient glade from the wolves, Sugar. We feed from it.” He plunged his muzzle down into the water, seizing a wisp between his jaws, drawing it up. It shrieked hideously as he swallowed. His eyes burned with lunar fire. “We are the wolves.”

Points to: https://horsephenomena.com/dogs.php?id=143960

So this backstory is based of my real life horse Seven!

gordo (#364883) is an 8 yr old big and fat paint horse stallion(gelding in real life).

I met Gordo when he was a gangly yearling at the Clay 4C ranch here in Stephenville, TX.
Since I saw him I knew I wanted him!
Well another year had passed and the gangly yearling was now a 2 yr old and the ranch owners grandson was to choose between him and another buckskin 2 yr old they had at the ranch.
I got a text message from my second mom(ive know her since I was 4 yrs old) and she asked if I wanted to buy Gordo and I said yes depending on how much he was going to cost me. I figured I wouldnt go over $1200 as that was all I could afford.
I finally received a message back and she told me $2. Naturally I thought she meant $2,000 in which case I was going to have to pass, but NO!!! She meant $2.00!!!
I was like youve got to be kidding me!!!
So she told me the story of how the ranch owner sold him to her for a dollar and told her to turn around and  double her money, which meant 2 dollars! lol
So I took my 2 dollars and the trailer and picked ole Gordo up!
So fast forward another year.....
Gordo went to be started by Craig Cameron and his son Cole Cameron from Ride Smart Horsemanship on RFDTV. They are located in Bluff Dale, TX which is like 10-15 minutes from my house.
Gordo stayed there for about 4months and then I brought him home and took over the training.
I was kind of disappointed when I brought him home and all he would want to do is trot on the trail...I cant blame the Camerons though since they run that Extreme Cowboy Race and basically trained him based off of that which is fast paced.
Fast forward about 3 years.....
I finally found a reining trainer close to my house that actually had a lesson horse I could take lessons on. Ive always wanted to do reining, but just never did...guts, gotta have guts to get out there and just go for it!
After about 5 lessons on the lesson horse she kicked me off of him and started making me work with my own horses....now this is where Gordo comes back into the story!
Gordo is by no means bred or built for reining,( I mean..look at him..hes fat!) but it doesnt hurt for them to have the foundation.
Good things came from me breaking out of my comfort shell to start taking those lessons!
Since I started taking lessons I have since done obstacle challenges and ranch riding shows!
Gordo excels at the obstacle challenges since he loves the trails!
I enter the green horse divisions even though Gordo is 8yrs old due to the fact that hes never been shown in anything.
I get one more year in the green division and then we gotta move up to the novice which will be more challenging.
Gordo has quite the collection of ribbons and prizes just from maybe 6 shows?!
Our very first ranch riding series which is a 3 show event, we got 2nd overall! Gordo pretty much placed in every class!
Ive had a few people ask if he was for sale at our last mountain trail challenge which in my opinion is a huge compliment!
My $2 dollar backyard bred gelding is now worth well over $15,000!
Alas, he is not for sale and if he ever did go, the ranch owner said he would want first option buy back!
So long story short Gordo is currently thawing out from the 2 day snice(snow/ice) storm we had here...everythings a muddy mess!
Most recently I let my trainer ride Gordo and man..the difference of 1 hour with her was like amaze-balls! Its like riding a totally different horse!
Gordo is starting to figure out his "frame" and his spins! Hes still a grouchy fatty when it comes to loping off, but we are working on that too!

Words of Advice: DONT GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS!
The amount of pride you get by seeing where you started to where you currently are is amazing when you are the one working for it!

Our first show of 2022 was a success!

I entered us into the NWaB(never won a buckle) division and well we got 7 firsts and took home the win in that division!

It was basically by default as I was the only entrant in that division, but we went out there and participated!

Series #2 was a success!

There was atleast one other person in our division, so we didnt win by default!

Seven seemed like he didnt want to participate and did as he always does and picks up the wrong leads when it matters, rude! lol

We improved our reining score from a 63 to a 68 1/2 though so thats a win!!!

We won every class despite his bobbles and so on the the final show in the series which is 4/23!!!

Well we won the buckle!

There were 2 in my division and we got 4 firsts and 3 seconds!

WE WON THE SERIES!

Ill have to get you guys a picture of the buckle!

Its freaking awesome!!!

8th September 2007

We’d not long lost our 9 year old Border Collie to kidney failure, I think that was in July that same year. From a young age I’d always been a dog lover. I was the reason we’d gotten a dog. My dream as a child was to have a, and I quote, ‘a dog on a lead’. At the tender ages of 14 and 11, my sister and I were reading through the paper that day, and fell upon the following advert:

'Two Border Collie puppies left'.

We both ran into the kitchen to show our parents. The farm was just a short drive away, so after a brief ‘family meeting’, my dad made the phone call. There were indeed two puppies left. Males. One tri-colour, one black and white with liver speckled legs. The black and white puppy was under observation to another family, a lady from Birmingham who wanted him for agility competitions, so we accepted from the beginning that the tri colour puppy would be coming home with us.

I can still hear the working dogs barking in their kennels. I can still smell the livestock. I can still feel the wind lapping at my rosy cheeks. I walked fast in a straight line to the old stables, where I could hear the whimpers of two tiny eight week old puppies and that was it… I fell so deeply in love with the tri-colour, and my sister fell head over heels with the black and white. We knew, however, that he was potentially destined for the city lights so we made a decision there and then - we couldn’t separate them that day. We couldn’t take one, and leave the other all alone. So we agreed to go back the next day, when the lady from Birmingham was also supposed to go.

We had only intended to get one puppy but if the stars aligned and the black and white puppy became available again, they would both be coming home with us.

The drive home was quiet. My dad's favourite saying is, 'it is what is it', and my mom... 'what's meant to be, will be'. That didn't make us feel any better though. We tossed, we turned, we couldn't contain our excitement, our anxiety. The night was agonising, not knowing what was in store but deep down we knew that something great was about to happen and we were about to open our hearts to the most incredible floofers.

9th September 2007

It's dad's birthday... a quick birthday breakfast and conversation soon turned to the puppies. When could we go? Dad had been told that we should get to the farm for midday, because the other lady was scheduled to go at 11am. 7am... 8am... 9am... 9:01am... 10:14am... CAN WE GO YET?! 11:30am... yes, let's get in the car. That drive was equal parts heart-breaking and exciting, because we didn't know what to expect, but as we pulled into the farm yard, we saw the owner standing there with not one... but two puppies. They were both available! They were ours! This is where Marley's (and of course Ollie's) life begins.

»»———————————————— ♥ ————————————————««

I feel like this is my own rendition of John Grogans' Marley & Me. I wouldn't go as far as to say Marley is the world's worst dog, but he's certainly had his fair share of bad behaviour, swallowing necklaces, chasing cyclists, eating blocks of cheese, chasing livestock, pissing on the furniture... and so much more.

In his youth he loved to play fetch - tennis balls and rocks were his favourite! Even today at the grand old age of 14 (15 in July), it is beautiful to see his golden eyes light up, his head tilt and his tail wag. Fetch nowadays means sitting a few feet away from him and rolling a tennis ball into his mouth, but he used to run for miles. He was always incredibly annoying (in the most loveable way) and would always put a ball in your lap and if you ignored him (how dare you!) he would paw and scratch at your leg for attention. Safe to say, it always worked!

Like most Border Collies, his herding instinct was always incredibly strong. I will always remember when myself and a friend went for a walk with her Cocker Spaniel (terrible recall!) and as Joe went to run off, both Ollie & Marley took to each flank and circled around and above the path he was taking and 'guided' him back to us. They would have made incredible working doggos! The herding instinct didn't stop there though... frustratingly he would also chase and round up cyclists and no matter how many times I would ask them to stop, they would keep going! The same would apply to people running or jogging (but when they did stop he would always lap up the fuss he would get for being such a good boy!).

Until about a year ago (when he stopped being able to get upstairs), he would always sleep in my bedroom, even though I didn't live at home any more. What a good boy! Now my parents take turns sleeping downstairs with them both so that they don't get lonely.

Marley is equal parts smart, loyal, sweet and a complete disaster all at once but I love him with every part of my being. 

-sings- I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100%... 

just a baby!

My Marley Moo. ♥

Points to #143977 :D

The velveteen rabbit was the first book that made me cry as a child. 
Velvet is the first dog I have ever owned personally that has made me cry. Tears of frustration, tears of joy , tears in general. 

I worked in rescue for many years ... so I thought I was ready for the pup that showed up as an "emergent rehoming" on my face book feed. I was toying with the idea of getting another dog anyway. They told me that the pup had basic training, was spayed, and they didn't want to rehome, but she was getting into the neighbors livestock ,and the neighbor was threatening harm. I drove 2 hours to  go see her. When I got to her previous home, she (Velvet) was out running in the street unsupervised. That emergengent aspect really came into play. I stopped my car, persuaded her to come over - and couldn't tell her no at that point. She threw up (from car sickness) the entire ride home. It was an adventure right from the start. 

And the adventures only continued from there. It became obvious very quickly, that very little of what the previous  owners had  told me about the dog was true. She came to me untainted, unsocialized, unspayed and 100% hot mess. I had never owned a hound before, and had only had minimal exposure to hounds previous. But I figured I could handle it. It'd worked with many fractious bully, and other breeds ... hounds couldn't be worse right? Boy howdy, did I learn my mistake in that respect fast. Hounds are something else , I had to change my entire training regimen and thought processes. Anyone that does not believe genetics play a huge factor in a dogs personality and being, need to hang out with my dog for an hour. She has never hunted a day in her life, but she sure thinks she is a world class hunting dog. We both had to grow together. 

it's been a bumpy road.... but it's been an adventure watching my worn, rag-tag mess of a pup turn into a real dog. It's a constant process but one I'll never regret. Watching my velvets 'velveteen rabbit' process. 

---------------

Velveteen rabbit dog #143739

Points to Jack ^.^

(fair warning: Based on a true story, with some small embelishments to set a darker environment but otherwise, true story of my beloved soul-dog Jack the real life boo-baby)

A long long time ago in a stark looking trailer park in the dingiest, darkest, gloomiest trailer of all, hope was born. There was a black Labrador retriever female who had just birthed a litter of six pups: two black Labrador retriever looking ones, a male and a female (also the runt of the litter) and four German Shepherd coats.

"Hi, my name is Jack. I love to climb on my Mom, terrorize my siblings by pulling on their ears or tails, race them to Mom when she yells 'time to eat,' chase the ball when my master throws it or run away with anything that he drops for that matter. It's so much fun because it makes him run with me! Everyone was always yelling 'no Jack!" I never understood what I did wrong. No one ever wants to play anymore!
One day, Mom said we were going to get some strange visitors tomorrow and that some of us might be leaving for good. But not to be scared because Master wouldn't let us go to anyone who would harm us. 'Leave? Why? I don't want to leave! I want to stay here with you Mommy!' Were the types of things I heard from all my brothers and sisters. But I was curious. So curious that I couldn't sleep that night. I was kind of excited to see what was in store. The night seemed to go on FOREVER!! But morning eventually came, and sure enough strange humans came into our home one set at a time. With the coming and going of each set, one of my siblings disappeared with them. Then I saw her! A sad looking little girl. I asked my Mom 'why does she look so sad?' My Mom said 'she just needs a friend. Something has happened and she needs someone that she can depend on forever. That's why humans love our kind. Our kind provides the most loyal friendship that their kind tends to lack the capacity to give.' So I walk up to her, sniff her all over, jumping up on her knee, trying to get a closer look, and barking, trying to tell her that I'll be your friend forever and ever. But she still seems uninterested. She kept looking over my head at my brown and black brother laying beside Daddy. I just kept barking, 'I choose you! Please choose me!' The large guy with her kept insisting on me but I didn't want him. I want her! She needs me! Eventually the large girl with them said to Master "we'll take this one." I couldn't help but bark louder and faster with excitement. I was going to a new home. I turned to look at my Mom as the little girl picked me up as to say bye and 'don't worry, Mom, I'll be the best friend ever!' Then I turned to look the little girl directly in the face and gave her a big sloppy wet kiss. She smiled a little. It was love! I found my Love!
So i went from one small trailer home to another. We didn't have a lot but it was perfect! As my Love grew and my love for my Love grew, I grew as well.
No wonder my Love was so sad. Both of the new big Masters had this weird ritual of leaving as soon as it got dark outside. I don't know where they went but they were gone until after the sun came up. But as soon as they closed the door, my Love got even more sadness in her eyes and we were left just the two of us with my Love's younger sister. suddenly, I just knew that it was my responsibility to protect both my Love and her sister. Every night my Love and I walked all around the house, some nights multiple times if she heard a noise. I sniffed at every window and when I let her know it was safe, she would let out a deep sigh as if relieved and look out each window herself for extra security. One night during our routine house security checks, I needed to pee so my Love opened the door for me. But there was something out there. I couldn't stop growling. My Love closed the door and just kept looking at me like I was crazy. I returned the glare as if to say 'I'm not nuts. There really is something out there! I don't know what it is. I don't know if its going to attack us or eat us or not. But I don't want you out there.I'm trying to protect you. Just look!' Eventually I got her to look out the window and she saw something in the back field. I barked as if to say 'see! I'm not crazy.' I heard her telling her Mom about it, that it had antlers like a deer or various or something bit she wasn't sure exactly what it was. I helped calm her anxiety and sadness and she helped me release all my energy that no one else would. She'd throw me the ball, we'd play tug-o-war, wrestle across the floor. But my favorite was going outside and watching the birds together. Sometimes, I must have hurt her because she'd say 'owww'. I didn't mean to. I think she knew that because I'd back away and look at her with my head low and she'd reach her hand out to touch me. We made a pretty good team!
As much as my Love needed me, her sister needed me just as much. I don't understand what was wrong with her but occasionally, she would get this weird smell about her. I didn't know what to do other than go find my Love's mom and drag her in. Somehow my Love's mom always knew what to do. She always acted quickly but calmly while sticking her with a needle or finding her something to eat. I don't know how she knew food would fix it but I guess it makes sense; food always makes me feel better, especially when my Love would sneak me scraps underneath the table when her Mom wasn't looking.
A few years passed and our family, although small, felt like home. Like normal. It was absolutely perfect! Happiness. Then all of a sudden, the large male picked me up, put me in his truck, and drove away. We entered this strange little house. All I could think is 'this isn't home. It doesn't have my Love.' I wondered if I'd ever see my Love ever again. But even worse, I was scared that she'd have no one to protect her and she'd revert back to the sad looking little girl that I saw for the first time back in the trailer park with my Mom. She needed me more than I needed her. Plus, the new big girl that lived here wouldn't stop sneezing and never would come near me never mind touch me and give me any attention. My kind wasn't created to be ignored. At least that's what my Mom always told me. Then one night, I heard a noise outside while doing mine and my Love's routine walks around the house. I ran to the window and sniffed. Then I heard another noise. This time right outside the door. My hairs stood up, I bared my teeth and got ready to give a warning growl and attack. The door slowly creeked open and the intruder stopped on my squeaky toy. I started running toward the intruder, teeth bared when I heard a familiar voice. It was the intruder. It said "'shhhh, Jack, it's me. We're going home.' I knew that voice it was my Love's Mom. I leapt up into her arms. I was going home! I was going to see my Love again!
There I spent the rest of my days. Our little family got smaller but it also became even better because it didn't stay small for long. My Love was expecting a pup of her own. Somehow I knew she was going to need my protection even more not only for her but for my new little Master. She grew bigger day by day. And as she grew bigger, it became harder for her to move around, so I was not only protector but also a walker. But I didn't mind. I loved her and I would do anything she needed me to. This is what love is; she always was and still is and always will be my Love. When this little human finally came, I loved and protected him just as much as I've always done her. He was her. She was mine. And he was mine. You want to mess with her or him, you got to go through me first! And good luck with that! I'll die protecting them.
Just as much as I stuck to her through tough times, she stuck to me through tough times just the same. I've had a lot of pains in a lot of areas through my lifetime. My Love took me to someone called a vet. They put me to sleep and when I woke up, the pain was gone every time. My Love talked about tumors and spleen removal and something about sperm and urine and apparently they're not supposed to be mixed together so I had to be neutered. Whatever those are or what any of that means but apparently I'll never be able to give her a little pup of my own. But I trusted her with my life as she did with me. She would never do anything to harm me. Somehow, just like her Mom knew how to help her little sister whenever I brought her to her, my Love always knew what to do to help me feel better.
Although, I am no longer by my Love's side physically, I live on in her heart. Still loved by her. Still returning that love. Still protecting her. And I know that one day, I will be reunited with her just as I was able to return to her once before when the large male took me away. I will always return. I love you, Love!

Downpour was born in the pouring rain in the middle of late March surrounded by his dam's herd in a beautiful pasture outside behind his humans house.   Downpour was muddy but born with two blue magnificant eyes.  This cremello colt grew up to be over sixteen hands tall, what a magnificant quarter horse stallion he grew up to be.   Downie as he is affectionally nicknamed  was put into training at two years old, winning the hearts of the trainers and all who came across his path.

Downpour didn't like to be lonely so they had him his own special mares to be in the pasture with him. He'd rear up and show off his magnficant cream colt and muscles to these mares.   One day he became a world champion halter horse and then loaded up leaving his special alpha mare Torrential Rain behind, and this saddend the world champion stallion,  the young steed was so deeply saddened that they had to bring her to the training facility to be with him, and then he was happy.

Once Downpour ended his career he became the talk of the town and the sire of the next generation.

 (Downpour (ID #365573) - Horse Information (horsephenomena.com)

The dark sky glittered with stars. Jaga turned her nose to the moon and a lone howl filled the air. She paused, listening, but there was no answer to her call. Inwardly, she shrugged. She didn’t need a pack; she was just fine on her own. She bound forward, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. There was nothing better than a clear night. The snow under her paws gleamed in the moonlight, but the night was crisp. Catching snowflakes as they fell could be fun, but this was her absolute favorite kind of night: the best kind to play.

She caught the scent of a rabbit, and nose to the ground, tail waving wildly in the air like a flag, she followed the scent. Her belly was already full, but this was about the thrill of the chase. When the rabbit came into view she leapt for it, barking. The rabbit, startled, flew. The chase was on! Down through the valley and into the woods, around two trees, a jump over a small boulder, and the rabbit escaped into its lair. Eyes bright and panting from the run, Jaga looked about for her next amusement. 

There! A snowdrift, under a large tree. A butt wriggle, and a leap, and she landed in it. Rolling back and forth until she was nearly covered with snow herself. She excitedly jumped back onto her paws and shook, sending snow flying, quite literally, everywhere. 

Then, suddenly - what was that? A chorus of howls rang through the air, their melody both haunting and beautiful. A pack was near. 

Ears back, Jaga followed the sound, soon catching their scent. They weren’t far. 

Whimpering, she approached, crawling on her belly. A young female like herself, it didn’t take much effort to appear to be, well, nothing but what she was: a lone wolf, young and playful with the full moon.

Only now, she had playmates. Although most of the pack was older, there were a few recently out of the pup stage themselves. And after a few false starts, soon they were racing each other through the woods, each trying to outperform the rest. While Jaga liked to think she was well kept, the truth was that being alone had taken its toll on her. She was the best at initiating a game, but more often than not, she was not the winner.

When the sky began to lighten and soft colors started to fill the sky, the young wolves returned to the pack. Jaga stayed on the outskirts, watching the other younglings rejoin their family. Whimpering, she looked between them, and out into the wilderness and her life, by herself.  It was fun to be with others for a time, but was that what she wanted?

….

Jaga stretched, and slowly her eyes blinked open. A yawn broke from her mouth as she slowly rose to her feet, going slow. She wasn’t the young pup she used to be, and sometimes her bones ached, especially if she went too fast. She slowly padded into the room where the humans would feed her. She had had that dream again,where she was naught but a puppy, wild and carefree. Nothing but a fantasy; she was and always had been, a beloved guardian of her humans.

Jaga, dog #143983

https://horsephenomena.com/horses.php?id=365448

Fidleywood Wild Child

“..and she goes around the tree and she zigs and she zags,” the bay filly thunders around the trees her hair almost brushing their trunks as she races past. “She’s fast and she’s fleet and coming up to the…” She halts suddenly and raises her head in alarm.

Horses are thundering towards her. NEIGH. “Wild Child – come here NOW!” Her mother calls and she races over trembling at her mothers’ side.

“What is it!” She asks of the wise mare.

“It’s the Annual Drift. Stay close.” Her mother picks up a trot and Wild Child follows.  Other horses nearby follow them as they dart into the trees and follow deer paths. Up ahead a horse and rider appear and the wise mare darts away to try and evade the riders.  They canter along listening for sounds of others as they hear hollering as another herd has been spotted and chased.

Wild Child jumps bushes and shrub as she keeps up with the long legged mare.  “WHOOP WHOOP,” another rider emerges and pushes them back.  Wild Child follows her mother as they come out of the trees into the heathlands.  It’s been raining so it’s wet and their hooves make sucking noises and leave hoof prints as they canter along.  They splash through puddles and there’s a lot of horses galloping in front, alongside and behind as they’re all herded together. 

Wild Child smells the air as she takes long breaths in and there’s the sweet smell of the gorse bushes that she jumps over, the earthy woody and mossy smell of the heather as it brushes softly against their legs.  They gallop through streams with that fresh water smell as it splashes up cold against their bellies.

Another horse in front tries to break away but is pushed back by a man on a chestnut gelding.  They come to a road and they canter down it before veering onto a stony track all of the ponies surefooted as they go. 

It’s not long before they come to a large wooden structure and the horses are pushed against each other as they approach with no option but to go between large posts.  Once in they stop and mill around seeking a way out of the large pen they find themselves in.  Wild Child keeps close to her mothers side bewildered.

“Hush dear. You’ll be fine.” Her mother reassures her as she nuzzles her.

It turns out this is the beginning of the end.  Most of the horses are released after being checked, wormed and tagged. Not all of the horses are so lucky as it turns out they are feral but belong to commoners who release them to graze the New Forest. Their owners and ‘Agisters’ then go out on horse back in the Autumn and round them up, removing any that will struggle in Winter plus colts and some fillies.  These are then taken to the owners homes and some of them sold at the Auctions that take place at Beaulieu.

This is what happened to Wild Child.  She was one of the few who was taken home and a couple of short months later was sold at auction for not very much before being put in a trailer and off to a new home where she was handled and taught the ways of the leisurely ridden horse.

Moose was born in a forest. He enjoyed being out in nature. He was a friendly, outgoing pup. He could make friends with anyone, anywhere. His most beloved friend was a Moose he met that lived nearby. He would always run off and his mother new right where to find him. For that. She named him Moose. 

Moose is a typical saint always trying to be the hero or rescuer. He can be found in the woods and is always close if trouble arises in the forest. He has a majestic way about him and he is very kind.

For 

Moose

https://horsephenomena.com/dogs.php?id=143641

For Gil-Estel, 365451

(Though his name and 'theme' drew inspiration from LOTR/The Silmarillion, his backstory isn't directly related to any Tolkein lore, to keep it somewhat original!)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There once lived a great knight, who was famed throughout the land for his skill in training the finest warhorses in the kingdom; mounts fit only for kings. His lands were rich, his people prosperous, for Princes from far and wide sought their steeds at his stables. Yet his successes fed the envy of others, who craved the Royal favours so readily bestowed upon his family, and many nobles looked upon his luck with quiet jealousy.

One year, the knight’s finest mare gave birth to her finest foal; his coat was of a light gold, so bright that it seemed almost to shimmer in the morning sunlight as the young colt stretched his legs and took his first, wobbling steps toward his mother. He whickered for her, his voice clear and true amidst the rustling of the grasses and the joyful springtime songs of the birds. And she, ever an attentive mother, nuzzled him softly toward her, guiding him to feed.

The knight looked on in pride and satisfaction, one hand resting upon the shoulder of his young son who gazed at the colt, transfixed.

“One day, my son. One day you shall ride and serve alongside your king; just as I did. And this colt shall be yours.”

Time passed, and colt and boy grew, lanky-limbed and awkward, thick as thieves as they chased one another through the meadows and snuck into the orchards to scrump apples from under the nose of the gardener. And as they grew in strength and maturity, so they grew in confidence; often vanishing for hour upon hour, creeping home long after the setting of the sun. The Knight would scold his son’s carelessness when they returned, mud-covered and triumphant, from their adventures; yet secretly his heart swelled with pride. For though he feared for his son – the one child who remained to remind him of a love long since lost – he recognized the spirit within the boy, the fire of wanderlust that blazed brighter with every passing day. One day, he knew, he would lose them both to the wonders of the world.

Seasons came and went, and the world span around the sun, until the spring came of the golden colt’s – now a stallion grown – sixth year. The knight, feeling the age in his bones and the creaking of his joints, announced that it would not be he who represented the family at the grand Easter Tourney thrown by Court. The time had come for his son to take the reins.

Bursting with excitement, the young man bade his father farewell and journeyed to the great city. The kingdom had been at peace for many years, and the spring weather was fine and clear for his travels. In his youthful enthusiasm, he paid no heed to the roadside whispers and muttered tales, stories of an old enemy returned to strength and amassing an army the like of which had never before been witnessed. He rode half in a daydream, with his head in the clouds, regaling his mount with tales of the adventures that they had so long dreamed to share, and that were now coming to pass.

The tourney was a roaring success. Under the blazing sun, steel breastplate and golden hide shone alike, so that the young knight and his steed appeared to radiate light themselves. Captivated by the sight, the crowd cheered and stamped for the newcomers, so full of vitality as they charged down the tilt rail to meet their opponents. The king, watching from the stands with a keen eye, marked the pair; and when the time came to reward the victor, it was the young knight who stepped up to take the prize.

Yet as he sat astride his shimmering mount, tall and proud before his king, a handful of nobles looked on with considerably less cheer. And that evening, as the revels continued long into the hours of darkness, those same nobles closeted themselves away within their quarters and together hatched a plan. For the young knight and his family had glutted on Royal favour for far too long, and no longer were the other nobles satisfied with battling for scraps from the King’s table.

Within weeks, word had come that the disgruntled nobles had defected, fleeing to the enemy’s side and taking with them all their knowledge of the King’s court and defences. Battle now loomed close at hand, and even the young Knight could no longer turn a blind eye to its arrival.

All the faithful knights of the land were summoned to the King’s council and bade to ride out alongside him with their armies to meet the enemy and those traitorous Lords. For once, the young Knight’s confidence faltered, fear stirring within his heart.

With haste, he made to the stables, seeing to the preparation of his beloved mount himself. Resting a hand upon the stallion’s shoulder, he steadied himself, drawing reassurance from the soft huff of warm breath that blew across the nape of his neck as the stallion craned round to nuzzle him.

“My friend, it seems that time has come for us to fulfill my father’s dreams. Are you ready?”

With a toss of his golden mane, the stallion snorted and nudged at his arm a little more insistently. The young knight laughed and stroked his velvety muzzle, a smile catching at his lips.

“Of course, how foolish I am. With you at my side, how could we ever fail?”

And so, to battle they went. No caparison covered the flanks of the stallion, for the glow that seemed to shine ever brighter from his golden coat drew admiration and wonder wherever they rode. Even the dark of night could not fully extinguish his light.

Yet when they reached the battlefield, their hearts grew heavy, for the forces of the enemy stretched far across the horizon. Dark clouds had gathered, obscuring the sun and depriving the day of all warmth. Victory seemed so far from reach, but a small spark of hope remained, its flame flickering in the hearts of the soldiers.

They charged. The young Knight and his golden steed, sworn to remain beside his King, rode in the vanguard, their light piercing through the shadows cast upon the battlefield and guiding the way to the enemy. And as they galloped down to meet their opponents, those in the front lines of the enemy ranks were forced to cover their eyes lest they be blinded, and so were cut down as the cavalry charged through them.

The battle raged for hours, the advantage dancing back and forth from one side to the other. The young Knight fought fiercely, his mount pirouetting this way and that, rearing to strike an enemy without so much as a single cue, so in tune were they. But the shroud of darkness crept ever closer, and as the night approached victory seemed no closer to hand. The soldiers were weary, their hope slowly ebbing away with the daylight.

In desperation, the King turned to the young Knight and his horse, who alone cast their light amidst the dark, and begged for help to defeat the forces of their enemy and force back the darkness of night.

The young Knight sought desperately about for some way that he might achieve such a feat, and his faithful mount tossed his head and whinnied, spinning about to face the mountain which towered high above the battlefield. Realisation dawned and, murmuring words of thanks to his horse, he spurred toward the mountain, cutting through the ranks of brawling soldiers.

Up and up they galloped, bounding up narrow mountain paths and leaping over boulders, until the battlefield was lost to the darkness beneath them. The stallion snorted, his breath finally laboured and sweat darkening his golden coat, yet still he did not falter.

Finally, they reached the peak of the mountain, the wind whistling about them with a biting cold, the world below veiled in shadow. The young Knight shivered, slouching in exhaustion over the pommel of his saddle, struck with despair that he had not been able to fulfill the last request of his King but had fled the battlefield for nought.  

His horse, however, was not so afflicted. Picking his careful way across the stones, he leapt onto a great boulder that stood at the very apex of the mountain and stood there for a long moment, gazing out across the world, his mane and tail whipping about him like fine gold thread. Then, he raised his head and reared high, striking out at the dark sky and forcing the young Knight to cling to his neck, lest he fall. And as he reared, so he began to glow. The light was meagre at first, yet swiftly grew bright as day, chasing the darkness back down the mountainside and, finally, reaching the battlefield far, far below them.

The soldiers, raising their faces toward the sky, stared in awe at the figure atop the mountain, all but obscured by the blazing light that emanated away from him. Murmurs spread among them, and the fires of hope were kindled once more within their hearts. The enemy forces, overawed by the spectacle, stumbled backward as the King’s troops rallied, and were overcome. And so, the battle was won.

The young Knight and his horse were never again seen by any living man. Yet each night henceforth, a new star shone bright in the sky, bringing hope and reassurance to all who travelled through the darkness of night. It was graced with the name Gil-Estel – ‘the star of high hope’, and stories were forevermore told of the golden stallion and his brave young knight.

CHERIMOYA (ID #143515)

It was a very frigid cold morning when I entered this world with my brothers and sisters. Unable to see it was a very scary, and loud world. My brothers and sisters would snuggle up close using our noses to find each other and our momma when we were hungry or scared.

Soon the world wasn’t as scary with being able to see shapes and figures up close. Once we could see better we began to practice our pouncing and chasing skills. My nose could smell so many new and exciting scents that I started to wander to see what more there was out there.

One morning, my people came to take my momma with them and leave all of us pups behind in our pen. After what felt like ages, I couldn’t handle being away from my momma, so I wiggled and managed to squeeze out from under the gate. As soon as I was out, I put my nose to the ground and caught momma’s scent. I began running with my nose to the ground following the scent and soon caught up to my people and momma.

My people shook their head and couldn’t believe I had found them all on my own, so they decided it was too late to turn around and go back home so they let me come with. 

As I pounced and played with the butterflies and puddles we passed, my momma kept a close guard over me and our people. She would stop and listen for threats growling when she thought necessary and then would continue on her way once she knew the path was clear. After a long, long time, my little legs began to get tired so my people picked me up and put me inside of their backpack to carry me and let me rest.

The world was so big, and so beautiful from up here! I could not believe how far I could see and how many wonders there were. There were mountains that reached the clouds, and trees that ran for as far as the eyes could see. Soon with the rocking of the people and the warmth of the backpack, it soon put me to sleep. 

When I woke up next I was laying beside a tree with momma by my side taking a nap. I could hear the people moving around us and once again I became curious. Climbing out of the backpack I began sniffing around and exploring all the new smells. As I was exploring with my nose to the ground, I came across this funny looking green thing and it smelled delicious!

As I began chewing on it my teeth chomped into something delicious. It was like a drink and food all in one! I began digging and chewing at the green thing as fast as I could so I could get more of the delicious insides when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. When I looked over my shoulder, my people were standing behind me with funny looking expressions on their faces. One of them scooped me up and snuggled me in close, laughing out loud he said, well I guess you are the one we will keep, and we will name you Cherimoya!

Honey #365465

Once upon a time in a far-away land, there was an extremely chunky mud brown Welsh pony named Peanut Butter. She wasn't much to look at, truth be told. Perhaps it was for this reason that her owner, old Mr. Boxom, listed her for sale. Some would call it fate, but the parents of a little almost-7 year old girl, Mabel, bought Peanut Butter as a surprise for their ownly daughter for her birthday.

On that fateful birthday, young Mabel sat dejectedly at an empty table in the garden behind her house in front of their small barn with a party hat on her head, staring glumly at the rest of the table. It had been set for her ten guests for her birthday party, fellow classmates who had RSVP'd yes but hadn't actually bothered to show up or cancel. She sniffled, trying not to cry, when she heard the sound of wheels crunching their way up the gravel of their driveway. Turning to see who it was, ever hopeful that it was one of her classmates late to the party, she saw her father's pick-up truck pulling an unfamiliar trailer behind it. 

She ran up to her father's door as he came to a stop, her sadness overridden by curiousity as to what was in the trailer. Her father swung out of the truck and grinned at his daughter, before hurrying to the back of the trailer and opening the hatch. Mabel peered around him and into the darkness, and could make out the shape of a pony. She gasped.

"Happy Birthday, Mabel!" her parents cried, her mother having come up behind them both to see Mabel's reaction to her gift.

"You got me a pony?!" Mabel squeeled, so excited she almost couldn't handle it.

"We did! Her name is Peanut Butter," her father strode into the trailer and unhooked the pony before backing her out carefully. "She's all yours! You'll be in charge of feeding her and making sure she has water, although we should probably think about putting her on a diet...she looks like she ate a round bale!"

Peanut Butter stared calmly around her surroundings, not seeming to care that she'd never been here before, nor that there were completely different sights and sounds to get used to. She was more concerned with finding her next meal, as was evident by her promptly hauling Mabel's father towards the closest patch of grass.

Mabel's father handed her the lead rope, then went to move the truck and trailer. Mabel's mother went into the barn to make sure the stall for Peanut Butter was ready with bedding and water. Mabel let Peanut Butter continue to graze, unable to stop the grin from almost splitting her face in two. This TOTALLY made up for her flop of a party, and the fact that she had no friends. Now, she had Peanut Butter to be her friend!

She wrapped her arms around the pony's neck and declared, "you're my best friend, Peanut Butter!"

*    *   * 

A few weeks later, Mabel skipped out of the house to the barn before breakfast to feed Peanut Butter and let her out into her field. Grabbing the bucket of grain out of the feed bins, she hurried to her pony's stall. Normally Peanut Butter's head would be sticking over the door of her stall, eagerly waiting her morning feed, but today there was no mud brown head peering over waiting for her. Mabel peeked over the stall door and gasped at what she saw.

Standing at the far side of her stall was Peanut Butter, looking calmly at her, with a palomino bundle of limbs in the shavings at her feet. Mabel stopped dead in her tracks and dropped the bucket of grain, taking in the sight for about half a second, before wheeling around and sprinting for the house, yelling for her mother. Finding her mother at the kitchen counter spooning honey from a jar into her morning tea, she quickly told her what she'd seen in the barn. 

Tea forgotten, Mabel dashed for the barn, Mabel right on her heels, still holding the spoon of honey. The two arrived just in time to see the little palomino filly try again to stand, her long twig-like limbs flailing around as she got herself up, only to face plant back into the shavings. 

"Oh, honey!" her mother breathed, taking in the beautiful sight of the unexpected newborn foal in the stall with her daughter's slightly-less-chunky pony. "Peanut Butter had a foal! No wonder she was so round!"

Mabel giggled softly, watching the foal try again to stand. "Should we help her, Mama?"

Mabel's mother let herself quietly into the stall, consicous of not scaring the poor foal. "No, honey, she has to figure out how to do it herself. You can quietly cheer her on, though!"

Mabel nodded. "Come on, honey, you can do it!" she cried softly, leaning forward as if enthusiasm would help the foal sort out her legs.

The little filly tried one last time, exhausted by her efforts, but determined to do it. Finally, she was successfull. She wobbled quite a bit, almost losing her footing again, but on splayed spindly legs she braced herself, breathing a bit heavily from her efforts. 

Mabel's mother slowly moved towards the filly, grabbing the tails of her plaid shirt and using it to wipe the little foal's nostrils out with one hand, the honey spoon still in the other. Hungry, the little filly stuck her tongue out, seeking sustinence and finding the honey spoon, licking it once before Mabel's mother pulled it out of her reach and guided her head to her mother's milk, much more suitable for a newborn.

Moving back to the door of the stall, Mabel's mother asked, "What should we call her?"

Mabel hesitated for barely a second before declaring, "Honey."

https://horsephenomena.com/horses.php?id=365465

Betty White #144001

Picture it: Miami, 1987. 

Four Golden girls are roommates living in a bungalow at 6151 Richmond Street. 

There's Rue, the youngest and, if you believe her, the most stunningest beauty that ever walked the earth, loved by male dogs everywhere. A real flirt. 

Then there's Bea, the biggest and tallest, frequently sassing the other three. She is easily angered or frustrated, but very practical and has a place for everything.

Next, there's Estelle, the oldest and smallest of the roommates, and also Bea's mother. The most recent to move in, she previously lived in a home for older dogs, until it caught fire. All for the best, they fed her cat food. And she SWEARS she didn't cause the place to burn down. It was not her hotplate!

Last we have our girl Betty, the bounciest, most naive and innocent, but loveable of the crew. Loved by all who meet her, she is sweet and kind, but can be competitive, always pushing to be the first to get to any thrown ball. Not always the brightest crayon in the box, however.

*   *   *

"Here, Rue, you can add this to the spring cleaning pile to donate," Bea announced through the old collar she carried into the living room in her teeth.

"Are you sure, Bea? That collar is one of your best!" Rue replied from where she sat, adding more clutter to the pile for the sale of their old toys and things. 

"You're right, it makes me look damn good!" Bea replied, taking a second look at the collar in question.

"Granted, it does make your neck look giant and your fur all frumpy..." Rue trails off, also considering the item.

Bea bares her teeth at Rue. "First you say it's one of my best, then you say I look awful in it, so which one is the truth?"

"Both!" Rue barks.

Bea growls and drops the collar back into the pile, as a young neighbourhood pup comes running in from the open front door. "Anything else I can do to help, Rue?" the pup barks politely.

"No thank you, Daisy, but thank you for all your help!" Rue replies, wagging her perfectly groomed tail and the youngster.

Daisy sees a stuffed bear beside the pile and sniffs at it, wagging her little tail in excitement. "I can't believe you guys would give up such a nice bear! I wish I could afford him!"

Rue smiles at Daisy. "If you like him, I'm going to give him to you, he's yours!"

Daisy yipped excitedly before running out the door with the bear in her teeth, past Betty who was bounding inside, back from her job helping at the grief centre as a support dog.

Betty woofed a greeting to Rue and Bea. "Was that just Daisy I saw run past?"

Rue nodded. "Yep, she's been helping us with the spring cleaning!"

Betty grinned and wagged her tail, her eyes sweeping the room, before her mouth snapped shut and her tail abprutly stopped its motion. "Where's Fernando?"

"Who's Fernando?" Bea asked.

"Fernando is my very best stuffed bear friend! I think I left him out here, but he wasn't meant to be cleaned! I can't live without him, where could he be?" Betty moved around the room frantically, sniffing and searching for her favourite toy.

Rue and Bea looked guiltily at each other. "Uh...maybe you left him outside! Go check the lanai!"

Betty ran off out the back door frantically, eyes darting as she dead, looking for her lost toy.

"We'd best call Daisy back here to get Fernando back!" Rue exclaimed, before bounding out the front door to go call on Daisy to explain the mix-up.

*  *  *

Half an hour later, Betty still hadn't found her beloved Fernando, and she was beside herself with worry. Rue slowly came in through the front door, something small clutched in her teeth, her eyes on the ground, tail between her legs.

Betty turned her head at the sound of Rue coming in, tail wagging slowly a few sweeps, before the look on Rue's face made her heart drop.

"What's wrong, Rue?" Sophia asked, from where she lay on a chair.

"...Betty, I know where Fernando is," Rue began after a mometary pause.

"You do?!" Betty jumped up, ready to run off to wherever her best bear friend was.

"I...I gave Fernando to Daisy for helping us with the spring clean," Rue stuttered out, knowing the news would crush her friend and roommate.

"Get. Him. Back." Betty growled at Rue, obvously not pleased with this news.

"I tried!" Rue cried. "She said no! She said only if we give her a big bag of treats will she give him back! To show me she was serious, she ripped off and gave me one of his ears!" With that, gently dropped the small item she'd been carrying in her mouth, which was indeed one of the bear's ears. 

Just then Daisy came trotting into the house with Fernando firmly in her mouth, grinning and tail wagging like she'd won the lottery. "Well, have you given my offer some thought?"

Rue sighed. "I'll get the treats." She trotted from the room into the kitchen, and returned a minute later with a giant bag of treats in her mouth, trotting across the room to put it at Daisy's feet at the front door where she now stood facing off with Betty and Bea.

Daisy dropped Fernando to pick up the treats. Betty quickly grabbed Fernando in her mouth and moved backwards as Bea reared up to quickly slam the front door in Daisy's face.

From the other side of the door, they heard Daisy howl as she discovered that the 'bag of treats' was actually an old treat bag filled with kleenex. 

"Sometimes, life isn't fair, kiddo!" Betty barked back at her through the door, before tossing her beloved Fernando in the air, all of the girls grinning.

--Based on Season 3, Episode 1 of Golden Girls

*   *   *  

"Thank you for being a friend
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant

And if you threw a party
Invited everyone you knew
Well, you would see the biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say
Thank you for being a friend"

- Thank You fo Being a Friend (Golden Girls Theme Song), composed by Andrew Gold

https://horsephenomena.com/dogs.php?id=144001

https://horsephenomena.com/horses.php?id=365463

Pneuma
the vital spirit, soul, or creative force of a being

On a misty summer morning, a pale mare gave birth to a dark filly, whose coat seemed to shimmer dark silver in the dappled sunlight. The mare watched her foal's eyes flutter open and begin to take in the world around her. To her heart's surprise and delight, a butterfly hovered inquisitively around her baby's head and, curiously, the filly lifted her nose to investigate. Delicately, the butterfly landed. The mare named the filly, Pneuma, for the soul.

And as she grew up, she so grew into her name. Kindness flowed from her like the crystal water in the stream by their thicket, and her mother taught her all the gifts of the earth. The guidance in the stars, the offerings of Mother Nature in her lush meadows and sweet water, in the shelter from her storms. 

But as Pneuma continued to grow, she yearned for more. And so, on the eve of her third birthday, she bid her mother a tearful goodbye and set off towards the edge of the wood.

Her journey took her from the shade of the forest to a lush, expansive meadow that blossomed with the rich colors of summer. The birds sang their farewells as she galloped on, the wind flowing gracefully through her hair and carrying with it the scents of the flowers around her.

The soft turf of the meadow shifted to hard-packed sand and rock of the desert, and it was hot under the summer sun. She traveled until the sun began its descent, and she took shelter beneath an alcove of rocks to sleep.

Sometime during the night, a glow behind her eyelids roused her, and she lifted her head, mystified to find that the sky was dancing. Lights of bright green and blue waves moved rhythmically across a sea of deep black, and the ballet lulled her back to sleep, her heart yearning still for more.

She set off again mid-morning the following day, crossing the desert into a drier grassland, this one dotted with boulders, dried vegetation, and cacti. A full day she spent in this land until it once again changed, this time to softer, finer sand that glittered gold. In the distance, a dull roar reached her ears, and she slowed to a cautious walk, eyes trained on the golden dunes rising from the earth.

Overhead, strange birds called and squawked as they dipped and soared. She followed them, drawn by their air of carelessness. Surely whatever was making that roar wasn't dangerous, for wouldn't the birds be fleeing? As she crested the dune, she felt her breath leave her at the expanse of water before her. Waves crashed upon the sand, the source of the roar.

The sea. She remembered her mother telling her of it once, how wild and unruly it could be one moment and then calm and gentle the next. She descended the dune, eyes drifting up and down the beach, enraptured by the waves. As her hooves made contact with the cold water, she lifted her head, let the salty breeze rush through her, and she knew she'd found her peace.

https://horsephenomena.com/horses.php?id=365251

Kill Caustic's parents were at their wits' end. No matter how hard they tried, their efforts to understand their daughter went unheard. One moment she was happy and carefree and doing well in school. The next, it was dyed hair (some style she called skunk tails), heavy rock music, and a bad attitude. When they asked her about it all, all they received in reply was that "this was who she was, she didn't expect them to understand".

She spent her days usually with two of her friends, a pair of twin black fillies who her parents rightfully assumed were the originators of their daughter's newfound "lifestyle". One more than one occasion they caught the phrase "MySpace top 8" and an argument would then ensue over who ranked higher than whom.

Her mother made the mistake one day of calling her new...look...a phase, and boy, was the breakdown catastrophic. A Shire-sized tantrum of epic proportions, cries of "it's not just a phase, Mom! This is who I am now! Gosh, you just don't understand! Nobody does!" that left her parents exchanging extremely concerned glances.

It went like this for the next three years. They weren't sure how much more they could take of their daughter's surly attitude and rebellious tendencies. Until one day, it just...stopped. No more constant fights over anything and everything, no more pleas of being misunderstood, no more blaring rock music screaming about some place called Ohio...

It just ended, and Kill Caustic seemed to grow up a little, become her "normal" self - happy and laughing and generous. When they asked her what all that noise was about, she simply replied sheepishly, "I was going through a phase."

LAST CALL!!!

These Are Due By 11:59pm HP Time TONIGHT!!!

His story begins on a somewhat damp, cold day in May. On the very edge of a lush, soft pasture a small, black colt made his entrance to the world. Greeted by the gentle nudge of his dam, he lifted his small head to meet hers for the very first time, feeling the warmth of her touch. Inspired by the warm feeling (or maybe by the fact that it was a really cold day) the small colt had begun to wobble up onto his feet. Another encouraging nudge from his mother prompted the little one to take his first steps, which eventually would lead them to a rather dense forest that was nearby. Into the woods they went, a welcome shelter.

 Upon entering the forest, the young black colt was greeted by an array of these soft, squishy looking plants. Some were small and grew in bunches, some were large and were crawling up the trees. Earthy tones ranging from brown and lighter, a true variety of these little marvelous fungi. But the one that caught his eye was not like all the others; its dome was red, and speckled in an earthy white. The curious little colt approached it with caution, looking back towards his dam for reassurance. He lowered his head, and began to sniff around the area. A mild, earthy scent filled his nostrils. Suddenly, a strange sound caught him off guard. Raising his head to look around, there was no immediate danger. He lowered his head again once more, but the sound continued. When he went to sniff again, the colt’s nose was met with a cold object. Shocked, he backed up. Upon further inspection, he saw a rope shaped object near what he was sniffing. It was black, with yellow stripes. Two beady little eyes, and a red flickering tongue. It was very odd looking… AND TERRIFYING. He immediately ran back to his mother, seeking her comfort. 

“That’s a snake.” she said. “This one will not harm you, however next time we might not be as lucky as there are some that can.”

The colt pinned his ears in the snake’s general direction, and stomped his hooves, yet remained hidden beside his dam.

Ever since that fateful day, the colt had detested those squiggly little ropes of nope. The encounter shook him to his very core, and he always remained on guard and grumpy because of it. His dam affectionately named her colt Badger due to his personality.

Badger grew, he grew and he grew and he grew! That little black colt grew until he was a humble 15.2 hands high. Over the years, his black coat had faded into the most shiny shade of grey. The only black that remained were markings around his eyes that pooled down towards his mouth. Coarse, dark mane had become as silver as the moon. Badger still enjoys roaming around the forest of his foalhood, and now has an interest in those little squishy looking plants which were mushrooms.

Points to Badger, #365467