Rescue Ponies and Dolly

I spent last weekend away in the country staying with friends and was enchanted by the two ponies in the field overlooking our patio.  Eventually I plucked up courage to go and have a word with their owner, and she told me that they were both rescue ponies.  She showed me pictures of them when she first had them: they both had horrific injuries, but the mare, Dolly, was in an especially bad way with gashes down her legs and on her back.  I couldn’t bear to look.

Fortunately, both ponies are now restored to good health, are properly loved and cared for, and are doing a little light work.

I fell in love with both of them, but was particularly taken by the little gelding, and he was very friendly when I stroked him – a tribute to his owner.  Here he is with a wagtail.  I adore the gorgeous feathers round his hooves.

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As it happens, my own mare is also called Dolly, and Dolly is the name of one of Isobel’s rescue ponies in No Accounting for Death.  In my mind’s eye, Isobel’s Dolly is a liver chestnut, just like mine, but my Dolly, thank goodness, has always been well looked after. She is part Welsh Section D, and, in her youth, she was a working lass on a Welsh sheep farm. These days she just goes on the odd hack round the local park, enjoying a good canter on the way, and then she spends the rest of her time with all her mates.

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