The sweet smell of the grass hits me as soon as I step outside my house. I’m heading out to the pasture to bring Coco, my horse in for the evening. The wind is strong and the sky is darker than most days. Despite the weather not being ideal, the grass still overpowers all other smells. I’m sure Coco loves it. My new riding boots rub against my strides as I walk down the long driveway to the pasture next to the barn. Coco is munching away on the beautiful, green field so I know it will be hard to get her attention. “Coco! Come here Coco!” I call her name. Her head isn’t facing me but I can see her ears on me. I have a carrot in my hand, which I wave around to try to persuade Coco to come over. She obeys.

When she approaches the gate I give her the carrot, she munches it gratefully. I open the gate that I am standing at and put the bridle around Coco’s head. I trust Coco not to run off, so I don’t tighten the bridle and just use it to losely guide her. I lead her into the barn and then into her stall which is the one on the end next to the tack room. Coco goes in without an issue and turns around. I remove her bridle. “It’s getting dark out, Coco. Wind is starting to pick up too, I hope the storm doesn’t hit us too hard.” She listens as if we are in a conversation. Coco looks at me with her longing eyes, I can’t resist. I pull a treat out of my pocket and place it on my flattened hand. She gobbles off the cookie and crunches loudly. Her eyes dart around for another, but instead I feel overcome with love for this sweetheart. I put my head against Coco’s and kiss her on the nose. A true and pure friendship we have between us. Finally, while she isn’t paying attention, I sneak out so she won’t ask for another treat. A sweet horse but such a mooch.

After I close the barn door I turn and get blinded by hair in my face. The wind has picked up quite a bit. I stumble a little as the wind pushes me back and forth and head back up the driveway to my house. When I reach the door I mutter to myself, “I hope the horses don’t get too spooked by the storm,” however this is untrue. I always want an excuse to go see my buddy, even if it is a storm. I walk into my kitchen and grab an apple. I munch on the apple, similar to a horse some people might say, because I crunch loud and slurp annoyingly. The parallels people could draw between me and a common pony are hilarious. I adapt so much behaviour from the silly horses in my stables. Even the horses that don’t belong to me. The ones that I look after, because people rent out stable space. I stomp like Henry and sneeze like Splash. My dad thinks it’s so funny, because it is completely unintentional. Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash. It’s going to be a rough night. I head upstairs to get ready for bed.

The loud wind startles me awake. The blinding light from my digital clock reads 3:07am. Before I can settle back into my slumber I hear a faint whinny. “S***.” I have to go deal with the horses. Despite the appearance of my displeasure, I do want to go to the barn and see my lovely ponies. To see Coco. I pull a sweatshirt over my pajamas and yank the new riding boots onto my freshly socked feet. The wind is whistling and I hear a crash of thunder. When I open the door to my house it isn’t raining but the trees look panicked. Blowing back and forth leaves going everywhere. I try to dodge the leaves but it is quite difficult. When I reach the barn door I hear a crash, a piece of tack must’ve been knocked over. I can hear stomping and whinnying. I pull with all my might to get the door open, finally it budges. The door swings open and the horses are freaking out. “The storm definitely hit us hard, Coco. It’s okay though girl, I got you.” I start at the end and work my way up. I put the tack back and calm all the horses. The last horse I get to is Coco. She is calmer than the rest, as if she knows I am there. I open her stall door. Coco looks at me with loving eyes. Her ears are perked up and her tail swishes. I reach into my pocket and pull out a treat. I always kept treats on me, there is at least one in every sweater I own. Coco gobbles it down and licks her lips. “I love you, Coco. You’re my girl.” Coco’s eyes say it all. She’s my girl and I’m hers.