I Need to Apologize to the Prairie Dogs

Remember a month ago when I told you that the prairie dogs I see twice a day on my high school drop off and pick up run are the cutest animal on the planet? 

I need to issue a correction. I hope the prairie dogs don’t read this.

If you aren’t already sitting down, find a chair. Or at least pile up a few pillows on the floor so that when you swoon like a Victorian debutante, you don’t hurt yourself.

A week ago, a MINIATURE HORSE appeared in a paddock beside my daily route. 

Anyone who has seen Parks and Recreation understands the significance of this.  Lil’ Sebastian was not a joke. He was a legend. The entire town of Pawnee stopped functioning normally in his presence, and I am beginning to understand why.

But there’s more.  My friends, please lay down and elevate your feet above your heart because this miniature horse has a BABY MINIATURE HORSE.  

I know. Take a minute.

The first morning I saw them I was driving by at 25 mph and thought maybe I was having a stroke and hallucinating. But that afternoon, they were still there. I briefly considered whether I had been raptured, though it seemed odd that heaven would require me to sit through the school pick-up line first.

The mother, who I can only assume is the gentlest and most intelligent miniature horse on earth, is adorable on her own. Every day I want to pull over and hug her while she nuzzles my neck, eats a carrot from my palm, and tells me everything is going to be okay.

But the baby!! The Baby!! The baby has hooves roughly the size of cough drops and a little tail it swishes while trotting around as though being alive is the best news it has ever heard.

I want to jump out of my car, scoop it up, stuff it into my purse and take it home, though I respect that this would raise questions for the farmer and, eventually, my husband.

I’m 99 percent sure it could learn to use the cats’ litter box. I’m equally sure that if you pet it every day and tell it how much you love it, it will grant you three wishes. Those three wishes would be, of course, for world peace, to end hunger, and to get another baby miniature horse. 

Unfortunately, I get approximately ten seconds with them each morning and afternoon. I find myself hoping for traffic to come to a complete stop right in front of their paddock so I can sit in the road and ogle these fantastic creatures. So far, every driver on this road has chosen to be alert and efficient, which is terribly disappointing.

The prairie dogs are still wonderful. I would never want them to hear about this and think they’ve been replaced. But I have now seen a baby miniature horse, and there is no returning to the woman I was before.

I have considered writing the farmer a note. Something casual, like: “Hello. Thank you for the horses. They have brought me tremendous joy. What are their names? May I give them carrots? Would you consider moving their paddock slightly closer to the road? May I hold the baby? I’m sorry this note got so personal.”

For now, I will simply keep driving by at 25 miles an hour, attempting to make eye contact with the mother horse and hoping the baby understands that my back seat is available.