One day, sitting on the verandah with Darrell, passing the time of day, sipping on black tea he said “Yer know,” long pause “yer should have a hoss.”

“ We don’t know the first thing about horses and neither of us ride. No I don’t think we need a horse.”

“People like hosses. Yer should have a hoss. I know! I got a small hoss yers can have. Mind yer, he’s got a gammy foot but yers don’t want a ride im so it don’t matter.”

“What do you mean Darrell a small horse?”

“Miniature. Like a Shetland pony only it’s a miniature hoss. White he is.”

“What would I have to do with it?” I was starting to get enthusiastic. I glanced at Rod and could see he wasn’t too keen.

“Yers aint got a do nuttin with im. Feed im a bit of hay like yer do with the cows and he’ll come when yer call im. Yer guests’ll love im.”

“What do you think?” I directed my question to Rod.

“If you want it, it’s up to you.”

A week later we took delivery of our horse. His foot was certainly gammy and he walked with a peculiar gait as one hoof was twisted sideways causing him to throw that leg out. We also quickly learnt not to stand behind him as he had a habit of lifting both rear legs off the ground and kicking. Fortunately I was quick enough to avoid being hit but poor Mungo suffered a blow a couple of times before he learnt to take a very wide berth around the rear of Snowflake.

Our menagerie was complete, at least for the next few months.