The Littlest Pony's Path

At that time, Dolly had two mistresses, Daughter (mistress junior) and Mistress (senior). Dad, soon to be known as “the Master”, tended to ignore Dolly and she him at this time of their life except at Cheese-Cuttings. But that’s a story for another time.

Daughter announced she was moving out and taking Dolly with her. But how could that be? Dolly had a fenced-in yard, a fence she acrobatically strolled very night on the look out for Cat Ballou or the Great Owl who lived in the Boreal Forest near the Ottawa River north of the house or the Raccoons scrimmaging in the Neighbour’s Backyard. She had the Swaying Grass of the Unmowed Hillside to hunt Moles and Mice or Figments of her Imagination. She had the hot-tub edge to mince around like a Tightrope Walker. She had the Stars and the Moon most nights, and the Aurora Borealis on many special nights. She had Plants to sniff and Flowers to gaze at, a warm deck to sunbathe on. How could she leave that behind?

Mistress convinced Daughter an apartment was not the place for Dolly. It would be too small. After all, the Littlest Pony, as she was also known, made regular crazed runs from the top floor of the house downstairs to the main level, careened around the corner into the kitchen, cheetahed across the dining room, slewed down the hall; flew frantically down the basement stairs, rounded the rec room recklessly and ended with a flourish of a finish in the laundry room only to retrace her steps and race back up to the third floor. Sometimes Mistress deigned to chase her. Where would Dolly run in an apartment? Reluctantly, Daughter saw there was no wisdom in keeping her and thus Dolly (gratefully) was left behind, Daughter knowing she could always visit this strange little vixen she’d brought into her parent’s lives and home and hearts.