Ok, well, actually, it's, um, like a stuffed pink pony. But she's too young to know the difference yet anyway. Plus, it doesn't need to be fed, never poops, and because I think there is some strange county ordinance about having livestock in the backyard. Too bad that is not the same for Baltimore County since my favorite brother (well, technically he is my only brother) still has Sammy the Frozen Parrot in the freezer. But that's a story for another time.
I don't remember asking for a pony when I was a kid. Which was probably a good thing since my dad's best friend collapsed my ENTIRE swimming pool with the back of his truck. God only knows what unfortunate fate the horse may have met. Pets did not do well at my house. Once, I found a turtle and I brought it home (this was before I realized that turtles aren't the best smelling creatures on the face of the earth). My father told me it needed to be with it's "turtle friends" and to paint a bid red M on it's back ( I had creatively named it Murtle- hey, give me a break, I was 8). So I set it free. Only to ride my bike the next week and see a strange flat looking turtle with remnants of red nail polish smooshed like a pancake in the middle of Spring Avenue. Looking back, I am pretty sure that there were mysterious Lincoln TownCar tire marks.
R.I.P Murtle the Turtle.
I hope the pink pony fairs much better.
2 comments:
HEY,
Watch out who you are calling a wierdo!!!! Us, bloggers aren't wierdos, we're just.....okay were weirdos.
Okay I want to see lots and lots of pictures of the babies. As you know, mine are babies anymore and I can't remember the first year.
That's a cute pony!
RIP Murtle. Loved the post!
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