Between crazy Colorado spring weather and family obligations (Really? I have to go to TX and NOT ride horses?!), Sican the Wonder Pony has been woefully neglected. For 10 days, I couldn’t get out to the barn and into the saddle.
But Sican was not the one suffering — I was. Actually, everyone around me was probably hardest-hit.
Not long after I got Sican two years ago, I told my friend Cheryl Aldrich — his breeder — I needed to change his name. But I couldn’t decide if his new handle should be Zoloft or Jesus, because this gelding is both my anti-depressant and personal savior (cue laugh track). 
I understand why heroin is nicknamed “horse.” They’re equally addictive. And I was definitely going through withdrawal. I was snappy, impatient, not sleeping well and generally unpleasant.
Sorry, kids. Sorry, DH. Sorry, world.
But once I finally got my fix, the world went back to rights. It was like that scene in “The Wizard of Oz” where Dorothy stops out of the black-and-white ruins of a farmhouse into her technicolor dream world.
My blood pressure lowered, my temper cooled, my chest loosened. Later that night, my sound sleep came back.
Ding, dong, the witch is dead.
Colorado Peruvian Horses 