Sunday School for Prince

He was just a little colt when we first saw him, but he held his head high and pranced proudly, his chestnut coat and white socks gleaming in the sun. My dad bought him for my sisters and me, and we named our pony Prince. 

My older sister rode him when we first brought him home. But when she outgrew him, I learned to ride, and Prince learned how to enjoy being ridden. We became good friends. I loved brushing him, kissing his neck with its sweet pony smell, and just lying in the grass reading a book while he grazed nearby. Best of all, I loved trotting him through the woods and fields behind our house, exploring new trails or weaving our way among the wild blueberry bushes.

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