One Last Ride

One Last Ride     A tribute to Shorterbus from Deviant Art. Originally posted with his pictures on the Deviant Art Website.

Bethany felt a little sad as she led her pony out of the stable. Just a little, because if she were honest, not all that much. Yes, it was, after all, a sad occasion, but then it wasn't all bad news. She did feel a mite guilty about her lack of remorse, but then, as her mom had said. “Of course, you are a little upset, Honey, that's only to be expected, but remember, she's just an animal, Sweetie, just an animal”.

That was true, of course, and she wasn't even a pet, at least not like Rufus, her elderly Golden Labrador, asleep in his basket by the log burner, where he had become a permanent fixture these days. Nor even akin to Mrs Grumpy, the bad-tempered tabby cat who'd appeared outside the kitchen window one snowy morning. They had let the half-frozen animal inside, and she'd promptly taken ownership of the house. The hissy, ill-mannered bundle of fur spent most of the day haughtily ignoring those who fed her till bedtime, when she spent the night curled up next to Bethany's pillows purring softly in her sleep.

Her mother was right; Zebbie wasn't in that same category. Her household pets lived in the house or almost in the house. Her pet rabbits Snowy and Thumper's extensive hutch had been housed in the washhouse, which, although somewhat primitive, had still been accessible through the big kitchen. Bethany had been distraught when they had died within a few days of each other, and telling her they'd done very well for their age wasn't much of a consolation. Still, she did have her new and far bigger animal to cheer her up.

Her pony lived out in the stable along with all the other ones owned by her mom, but she'd had Zebbie for a long time. At least, it felt like a long time. Far longer than she'd had Snowy and Thumper, but they'd both originally belonged to her friend Mary Lou until she'd grown bored with them. The poor things would have been put to sleep by the vet if Bethany hadn't taken them. Whereas she'd had Zebbie for, she did a quick mental calculation going back to that first morning they'd surprised her with the beautiful animal. Yeah, that felt like an awfully long time despite that rubbish her Pop had said the other day during breakfast. Some silly crap about time going much slower when you were a kid! Well, she wasn't a kid anymore, at least nothing like she'd been when they'd first given her the pony for her birthday. Hell, she'd still been into Barbie dolls way back then!

That, of course, was the problem. Bethany had gotten older and bigger, but her pony hadn't grown. Yes, the animal had aged as well, but the young filly had been fully developed when they bought it. Maybe she was a bit stockier and hadn't been exercised as much as she should have been lately. Perhaps a touch overweight even, but in Bethany's eyes, Zebbie still looked almost the same as that first morning when her smiling mom had led her out of the stable ready for their first ride together. Back then, her mom would always go out with her, just in case. However, no 'just in case' situation had ever occurred on their outings, but it was always fun riding out with her. More so, later, when she was mounted on Goliath rather than accompanying her in the trap pulled by a couple of the more sedate but boring fillies she owned.

Goliath had always fascinated Bethany right from when her mom led him from the horsebox. Her pop had once described him as mountainous, mouthy, magnificent and downright mutinous. The stallion had undoubtedly been all that, a veritable giant compared to her, yet she had never been afraid of him, well, maybe just a little at first! Her mom, though, had never stood any nonsense from the big animal. Hugely muscled and of immense stature, he might be, but tacked up; she'd soon realised he posed no threat unless someone got careless, and her mom would never allow that. Nor was he anything like the angry feral beast he had been originally, not long after she first got Zebbie for her birthday.

The enormous hairy beast was terrified of her mom, and with good reason, but that was entirely his own silly fault. If he'd settled down quickly to his new life, he wouldn't have received all the whippings and canings, would he? It wasn't rocket science after all, and even a dumb animal like him should have cottoned on far sooner. Obey, behave and adapt! That's what her mom said, but he'd been far too stubborn or maybe stupid to comply with those simple rules, idiot beast! But then her mom said all such animals captured in the wild were like that at first.

Cruelty, for the sake of it, was pointless and ultimately unproductive. Her mom had impressed that on her many times as Bethany watched Goliath screaming and writhing under lash and cane. Punishment should be objective and not for personal entertainment, or so her mom had said, but Bethany wasn't stupid. Her mom had never let the other staff discipline the big animal. Even if he acted up while they were on vacation, it would have to wait until they returned home. The punishment might have been objective, but even from an early age, Bethany recognised that despite what she'd said, personal entertainment seemed to be a significant factor for her mom when she whipped him good!

Initially, Bethany had been terrified of the enormous creature as he raged at them in his stall. Still, her mom had just laughed at her fears and shown her how foolish she was being, handing Bethany a long, whippy riding switch and pointing to the enormous, angry beasts caged 'big stallion boy things'. Then she'd removed the big animal's mouth bit, allowing it to sound off at full volume. "Like this, Sweetie", she'd taken the switch back and given him a couple of cuts, one on the big round tip of his impressive boy pee pee where it bulged out of his cage and then to the hairy danglers underneath. Wow, how he'd suddenly danced and screamed, and all that naughty talk had stopped abruptly as he bellowed in agony.

Easy peasy! Bethany smiled at that memory. A necessary evil, her mom had told her as she passed the switch back and invited her to do likewise. Funny how small that leather flap at the tip of the switch was compared to Goliath and yet how effective it was when applied enthusiastically to those tempting targets. The colossal beast had never frightened her again after that session. No matter how angry or hostile he seemed, all she had to do was pick up that switch and open his stall door, and he became the quietest ba ba lamb in an instant, the moment she waved it at him. Strangely, she'd never seen her mother hit him down there again when she disciplined him, and she'd been warned not to do it either. His well-stripped hide bore mute testament to her mother's whips and canes used elsewhere, though!

Mind you, Bethany's smile broadened, but her mother wasn't always around to keep an eye on her, was she? Nor the other stable staff, so it was no wonder she wasn't afraid of him, but the reverse couldn't be said if she surreptitiously slipped into his stall. He'd danced and screamed into his bit for her amusement for her on quite a few occasions since that first morning when she swatted him where it hurt, and she was far wiser as to why these days. Perhaps she'd helped break and tame the wild beast in her own way. You had to be cruel to be kind, her mom said, so that such beasts could adapt and live happy, useful lives. Maybe she'd played a small part in Goliath's conversion, such as it was, but Bethany doubted that he was very happy about it!

Her Zebbie was a complete contrast in behaviour to that unruly beast, but that was to be expected. Her beautiful pony had been bred in captivity from a mare who'd produced a whole herd of beautiful foals. Zebbie had known no other life apart from the stables where she'd been born, raised, trained, and her soft hide so beautifully tinted. A long and painful process, so her mom had said, but so worthwhile and added immensely to her value. They'd bought the animal a few years before that special birthday and ordered those beautiful black and white markings to be applied to her young pony body. The animal's name had never been in doubt from the moment Bethany had first seen the zebra-like ponygirl, and besides, the original one wasn't what she'd have chosen, no way. It was such a pity she had to go, but all good things come to an end, don't they? That was one of her grandma's sayings. One Bethany had never thought over much about its meaning until now.

Her mom had been firm, and she'd only had one little tantrum over the decision, little that was by her usual pouting, spoiled brat standards! Zebbie was just too small for her now. She'd outgrown her as a riding pony. The poor thing could hardly manage a fast walk, let alone a trot for very long. Bethany had suggested keeping her and using her to pull a solo trap, but her mom had been firm and said no. Besides, Bethany had rarely shown much interest in using the other ponies that way, had she? The poor pony would be neglected entirely if she were given another riding mount, and that would be a waste of a good animal.

Her mom had also pointed out that she had a lot of other competing interests these days. Not least, an ongoing hot/cold relationship with Johnny Taylor, tennis coaching, and golf lessons; and if she wanted a better part than a bit role in the next school drama club presentation, that would mean more rehearsal time, plus those additional drama coaching sessions they'd discussed.

What was that other saying her gran often quoted, 'Listen to your mother, girl. Mothers are always right!' and again, pretty apt. Her mom had been right, especially given the proposed replacement, and in any case, all the stalls in the stable were full, so one would need to be emptied. I suppose her mom had doubtfully suggested we could double up. That would be a bit uncomfortable for them, but it didn't matter. 'The main thing, though. Honey, if we did that, we'd have to buy another tame, domesticated, stable-bred mount for you to avoid compatibility problems.

That had been the clincher! Bethany had been horrified at the very mention of that suggestion. Her Pop hadn't precisely been over-enthusiastic in the first place and had taken a good deal of persuasion by both mother and daughter. The old 'think I'm made of money' argument. He wasn't, but he did have it, and although it wasn't one of her gran's sayings, 'those that had it and would rather sit on it than spend it!' might have been another. Still, she loved him dearly despite that, and he wasn't anywhere near as mean as he pretended. Perhaps he was wily enough to give that impression and then reap the benefits as mother and daughter strove to change his mind.

He was right about the expense, of course, simple economics. Bethany had accompanied her mom to a couple of livestock sales, where you could buy three, maybe even four, fillies or strong young colts from a breeder, as opposed to the ridiculous price you paid for a healthy, freshly caught, wild one. Plus, they'd all have been thoroughly trained. Her mom had said, “You can't imagine how much Goliath and some of my others cost, and they are my primary interest, not the boring ones from the breeding stables. Your father wouldn’t quibble at their prices, but if you’ve set your heart on something wild and untamed, then maybe you can chip in your share and do a ‘deal’. That’s like a magic word to his corporate ear! I know someone who will make you a good offer. They can part-exchange your Zebbie and then ensure she goes to a good home”.

They'd left it to her, and ultimately it had been one of those decisions that are not a decision at all because there could only be one possible choice. Her pop had laughed and said that was what was known as a 'Hobson's choice,’ Sweetie. That hadn't meant anything to her, for she hadn't understood what he meant when he said it. One thing was clear, though, she thought with a deep sigh as she led Zebbie out into the courtyard, perhaps for the last time.

Well, it was a no-brainer. The sacrifice would have to be made if she were to get her hands on that hunky young feral colt her mom had first option on for another two days. Zebbie had to go, and if she was honest with herself, was she all that bothered about it? Good, bad or indifferent home, did it matter that much once she was gone? They'd had a lot of fun riding out together, and she'd been the perfect pony. Far too perfect in some ways, for she hardly ever gave her young owner cause to use her crop and never once the stable cane. Whereas that gorgeous colt was as wild as wild could be, and bar feeding and cleaning, no one would do a thing to him until he was sold. Not so much as a tiny scratch on his muscular young hide, unlike giant Goliath. That big boy, stripe-wise, was almost as much a Zebra as Zebbie, but for other, far more painful and ongoing reasons!  

Bethany giggled to herself; now that Colt, he'd be an entirely different proposition to Zebbie, a far more entertaining and exciting animal to own. He was a wild one, alright. Jeez, how mad he'd gotten when they'd allowed her to get up close and personal with him in his stall. So different to Zebbie when she ran her hands over him. Nothing like as soft and compliant, but rather lovely to stroke like an angry dog. A sort of different, slightly fuzzy feeling with that covering of fine blonde hair and every bit of him would belong to her, every bit of him, including his stallion parts that had received some of that up close and personal attention!

Bethany grinned if she ever let him mature into one like Goliath for although Zebbie had been so dutifully docile and obedient that had never spared her from the savage bite of her young Mistress's crop. Maybe they could hitch up the horsebox tomorrow. It wasn't all that far, just a couple of hours' drive. Stop for a Big Mac on the way back instead of supper, and then, she paused. Well, there was no hurry in thinking up a suitable name. There would still be plenty of time to ensure he received an appropriate introduction to his new life!

Bethany grinned wickedly at Mrs Grumpy, who'd casually strolled around the corner of the stable on one of her regular mice hunts. She raised her riding crop and saluted the cat, then slashed it downwards through empty air across an imaginary ponyboy's recalcitrant rump.

"Come on, Zebbie. Good girl, good pony, one last ride! I just need to make a quick phone call to mummy first!"