[palindrome.]

Username; ArtyBlonde
Show Name; Chocolate Cheesecake
Barn Name; Cocoa
Gender; Mare
Eye Color; Purple
Height; 12.3Hh

Extremely bipolar girl here.

These guys usually range from 12.3Hh-14.2Hh (or .3 depending) and are strong little guys. They used to pul coal from mines, so they needed to have stamina of a quarter horse but power and accessibility- making them muscular and stout. So please when entering, enter by the standards of breed! Thanks all!<3

(Hope you like, tried to incorporate everything X,D)

[Artyblonde]

I love her so much, omg. Thank you! <3

Show Name; Chocolate Cheesecake
Barn Name; Cocoa
Height; 12.3 hh (I love short pons <3)

[Artyblonde]

First Meeting
I was nervous the whole drive here, but I'm oddly calm now. I'm about to meet my rescue pony, a very short gal that I had named Cocoa based on the pictures of her. The rescuers told me she is very moody, very curious and accepting of the workers one moment and aggressive the next. I know the challenge I'm taking on, but I'm almost sure I'd be able to deal with her. I have a pocket full of sweet feed and a can-do attitude; anything is possible!
I can see her now, in a small round pen. She seems calm, stretching her head through the pipe to reach the grass just on the other side. I walk closer to the fence, until I am leaning on it. Her ears flicker towards me, as I am not directly in front of her, but she doesn't seem bothered by me. I spend a moment admiring her: even through the dirt and grime, I can tell she's beautiful. Very short, and somewhat stocky, like most ponies, but not as heavily built. I can tell where she'll fill out with regular feed and hay, and where she'll stay petite. I try to imagine her filled out, when you won't be able to see her hip bones quite that much--
She jumps away from the fence, as if very startled, and looks straight at me. There is a second, a moment, that we just spend looking at each other, and then she lunges towards me. Even with the fence between us, I'm quite startled and flinch away from the fence. Her ears are pinned and she bares her teeth at me over the fence, but it's hard to be intimidated by such a cute little horse.
She stays like that for a minute or two, looking at me hatefully and pawing at the dirt, but soon loses interest. She goes back to eating the grass around the edges of the pen. Forgoing the feed in my pocket, I crouch down and grab a handful of rich green grass, just out of her reach. I offer it to her, my hand carefully between the pipes of fence and right at her eye level.
She stares at me, distrusting.
She takes the grass out of my hand and chomps chomps chomps it down, and goes back to grazing.
I didn't realize I was holding my breath until now, and I let it go. I think she's the one for me.


Introducing Her to Her New Home
I signed all the appropriate papers, had written out her full name, Chocolate Cheesecake, at least three times, and was finally ready to take her home. She had been very iffy about being haltered, letting me get close enough to put it on before she jumped away. It was like a game: I'd get the noseband on, and just start to reach towards her ear to bring around the strap, and then she'd rear and pitch a fit. It would be amusing, if the sun was not quickly setting. Bringing her to a dark barn didn't seem very nice.
Once she was haltered, I backed the trailer to the gate of the round pen. I didn't plan on chasing her into it, by any means, but I didn't want to risk her startling and running somewhere she wouldn't be easily caught. The trailer was a stock trailer that could easily hold four horses. It had a door that separated the front half from the back, and it was closed now so that Cocoa would only be able to occupy the back half. I didn't want to tie her inside the trailer, though that was the norm, because I feared she would panic and pull on her halter, which would result in one of two things; breaking said halter (this one is unlikely), or rubbing the skin off her cheekbones and poll (much more likely). I wanted to avoid both.
I stood in the trailer, with her lead in one hand and an apple-flavored treat in the other. Cocoa was stretching her neck as far as she possibly could in an attempt to take the treat without stepping into the trailer. I didn't pull on the lead hardly at all. I'd wiggle it so she'd feel the clip move, and I made kissy noises and offered the treat, but I didn't pull. I knew untrained horses, especially ones with questionable pasts, would respond to force with more force, usually in the opposite direction.
It took a lot of waiting, and a few AIWP rescuers offering me help, but Cocoa eventually gave up and hopped into the trailer. With the height of the trailer versus her own, it was quite a leap, and she might have exaggerated to make sure not to hit the edge. I responded with the treat and lots of petting on her neck, but not anywhere near her ears. I had learned that she didn't like her ears, or her throatlatch, messed with much. She responded to my response with uneasy looks and very loud chewing of the treat.
I expected her to jump back out at the first opportunity, especially not being tied (and her body was short enough that she could turn all the way around, even with the middle door shut), but she didn't. Her eyes followed me as I walked out of the trailer and shut the big door behind me, and she seemed to flinch as I locked it down, but she didn't rear or panic, so I rewarded her with a treat through the window. She still seemed uncertain, but she took the treat eagerly and chewed it slowly. I made a mental note to get her teeth floated, then got into the truck.
Our ranch was a long way from the AIWP Association. I felt bad for driving her so far, and made a point to stop at gas stations frequently and check on her. Every time I did, she looked the same: unsure. She wasn't tense, really, but you could tell she didn't like where she was. I felt bad, really bad, for not waiting til tomorrow or getting there earlier. I knew she was tired and everything at my barn makes weird noises at night and I wished there was some way I could tell her, It will get better. I always gave her a treat through the window and pet her nose, which was very dirty. I resisted the urge to wash my hands every time.
We reached my place at about 10 pm, and it was already pitch outside. I prayed Cocoa wasn't one of those horses that's deathly afraid of the dark. I know all horses are, to an extent, because of their fear of the unknown, but I had two already who were always right under the barn light all night. I opened all the necessary gates (okay, I only had to open one) and parked the truck in the yard beside the barn. It was a humble four-stall barn with a medium sized tack room and a little storage space. Two of the stalls had small runs attached to them, and the other two faced the paddock and wash area. I was going to put her in a stall without a run for now, because I didn't want her fighting with the other horses through the fence.
I opened the trailer door and reached in. Cocoa's head was right by the door, as if she knew it was time to get out now. Maybe she couldn't already tell that this was her home. I clipped the lead to her halter, and she through her head up in distaste. I waited for her to calm back down, which she did relatively quickly. When she was done, I let the trailer door swing open.
She stood in the trailer, craning her neck down to try and see the ground. Again, the trailer was not low to the ground and did not have a ramp, so it must have seemed like quite the drop to her. I dug a treat out of my pocket and waved it in front of her nose.
She looked at the treat. She looked at me. She looked at the ground. She repeated this cycle for a solid minute and a half, before bravely jumping down, her front legs extended and her hind tucked as if she planned to fly. It was very comical, and all I did was get out of her way. Safely on the ground again, she began to graze.
I decided to let her for a while. It was already dark, a half moon high in the sky, and we were in no rush. In this lighting, she looked a little less dirty. She looked less like a ratty, skinny pony and more like the horse version of a French model with purposefully-smeared mascara, like she had a certain arrogance and purpose. I watched how she moved. She seemed very sound, though her hooves were all in desperate need of a trim, and she held herself well. She was extremely malnourished, with jutting hip bones and easily-counted ribs. I knew she wouldn't be under saddle for a long while, not until she had filled out and I was certain she could carry a rider without crippling herself.
After a while, I tugged on her lead. She lifted her head lazily, apparently totally okay now that she was out of the trailer. I lead her to the barn, which had giant sliding doors on each end. I unlocked and pushed the door, which creaked in protest. Cocoa jumped, throwing her head up and pinning her ears. She stayed back, stretching the lead taut, for a moment or two, before she gave in and walked into the barn with me. I let her go as slow as she wanted. She sniffed at a rake, and a wheelbarrow, and even stuck her head in the tack room once I opened the door for her. Finally, we came to the stall on the farther end of the barn.
I slid the door open, expecting her to jump again, but she didn't. She just stuck her nose into the stall for a moment, then pulled it back out and stared at me. I could practically hear her saying, Is this for me?.
I led her into the stall. It was large, and had rubber mats down and then a thick layer of brand new, fluffy shavings. There was a bucket in the corner, full of water, and a feed bin in another corner that was empty. I didn't want to give her an upset stomach while she settled in.
She stared around the stall as she followed me in, stretching her neck down to wiggle her lips in the shavings, sniffing the water in the bucket, smelling the door that went outside (both the bottom and top halves of which were shut), and then smelling me again. I unclipped the lead, and turned to leave the stall. She followed me until I got to the door, and stayed still as I slid it shut. The top half of the door was a thick wire grid, so she could still see me as I wrapped the lead around one of the squares in the grid to hang it up.
"Sorry I can't stay with you tonight." I apologized, sticking my hand through the bars to stroke her nose. She made a little noise that made her lips wiggle, and I smiled. As I turned to leave, I heard a pawing sound. When I turned back to the stall, I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
She had dropped and rolled in the shavings, and her already-dirty fur was now covered in golden chunks. She looked like a big chicken. Kinda.


Gaining Her Trust

I had let Cocoa settle in, bringing her food and moving her from the stall to the round pen for an hour or two at a time. She always seemed on edge, ears pricked and muscles tense. I tried to give her her space as much as possible, thinking maybe she just needed some time to adjust. But by the third week, I knew I had to try a different approach.
One the Monday of the fourth week, I went straight to the barn after work. The sun was still high in the sky, and I was hopeful about today's plan. I took Cocoa out of her stall and to the round pen. This time, I came in with her, which was new.
She stared at me after I took her halter. Usually, this was when she'd get her energy out, bucking and trotting around in circles before she calmed down and grazed for the rest of the time. Instead, she stood still and stared at me.
She sniffed at me cautiously, as if she was expecting me to hit her for it. I raised a hand to pet her nose, and she flinched back, turning on her hind hoof and reeling away from me. And thus, she went into her usual rhythm.
She ran and bucked and generally frolicked around the pen for a few minutes, while I stood in the center and watched her. After she was done, she looked back at me, surprised that I was still there. She approached me slowly.
I smiled at her. She had the biggest, most purple eyes I'd ever seen. They were beautiful, soulful, wise. Too wise for their own good. They were the eyes of someone that had grown up too fast, been treated too harshly, distrustful because of it. But they were innocent eyes, as well. Innocent in a different way. Innocent to the goodness of the world. But teachable.
I could show her the good. I could show her love, what it was like to have someone who cared for you. And I fully intended to.
"You don't need to be scared. Cocoa." There was a long pause before I said her name. There was a lot in that phrase, and I knew she understood all of it.
She came up to me, smelled my shirt, and proceeded to rub her forehead all over my chest. Her body was relaxed and her ears flopped and she bobbed her head and pushed. Had she been any bigger, it might have made me fall. But she was petite and it just made me smile. That forehead scratch meant everything.


Bath Time
I wasn't sure how she'd respond to getting bathed, so I was the cautious one the next Friday when I came out in the warmest part of the day. I led Cocoa to the bath stand and tied the crossties, leaving her standing on the concrete and looking bewildered. I dragged the hose around the barn and brought out a bucket, a sponge, shampoo, and conditioner from the tack room. Cocoa watched me while I worked, looking both interested and bored at the same time.
Finally, I had everything gathered. I turned the hose on and lifted it up so that Cocoa could see the water coming out. Her nostrils flared a little, but other than that she didn't react. I raised it to splash a little bit of water on her flank.
She flinched to the side, the cold water shocking her. She raised her head, her ears forward, and stared at me as if to say, "Hey, I thought we were friends!" and I chuckled.
I started by washing her legs, even though you usually start from the top. I filled the bucket up with water and squeezed some shampoo into it. Once it was good and bubbly, I put the sponge in and started scrubbing.
Cocoa looked at me peculiarly. It seemed she was trying to gauge my intentions. Was the water poisonous? Would it seep through her skin and kill her? Was I trying to get her to relax so that just when she let her guard down, I could tie her to a tree and leave her there?
I could see all the gears turning, and smoke was nearly coming out of her tiny ears. I worked my way up each leg, reaching her shoulder first. I put the sponge down and used my fingers to scrub into her armpit, pulling off ticks as I did. Cocoa had accepted her fate, relaxing under my sponge and letting her eyes drift closed.
She probably felt pampered, getting washed so thoroughly after so long of not being washed at all.
When I reached her tail, I frowned. There were at least a dozen witch's knots, which is a fancy way of saying she was growing dreadlocks back here. They would be nearly impossible to comb out. I tapped my foot for a little while.
I finally turned on my heel and went into the tack room. I dug around in a tack box until I pulled out some scissors. They were big and looked like they had a comb on one side. They were like people haircutting scissors, but big enough for coarse horse hair. They'd keep Cocoa from having straight-across bangs on her butt.
I went back out and examined the situation. Her mane was already pretty short, but it was tangled badly too. Maybe I could roach it? No, I was sure I'd be able to comb it out. Her tail was just a whole other story.
I took the scissors and started chopping. Off came the dreadlocks, one by one. Soon she had the tail version of a pixie cut--the hair stopped just a few inches after her actual tail. I actually thought it was kind of cute like that. It reminded me of the big draft horses who worked in fields. Their tails were short, too. I think to keep them from snagging in equipment. But whatever the reason, it was cute.
After her haircut, I continued to wash her. I let her tail soak in shampoo first, then conditioner. I did the same with her mane, combing it out while it had conditioner on to help untangle it. Then I got the hose again and stood back a ways.
I put my thumb over the end, and the water made a wide spray. I power-rinsed the little mare, who lifted her head and pinned her ears in annoyance. The water ran off her in thick sheets, soaking her fur and making her look nearly black. Her fur pasted to her skin, I could tell she was filling out.
When she was properly rinsed, I turned off the hose and went around the ties to face her head-on. I smiled as she scowled at me, her little forelock plastered in an off star shape on her forehead. Her eyes gleamed, and the pink on the bottom of her blaze was more prominent than usual.
"You look cute," I told her.
Then I busied myself with making sure she stayed clean, at least for a little while. I french braided her little puppy tail, combed out the feathering on all four legs, and gave her tiny button braids all up her neck. I left her forelock down. It had dried and looked poofy and I didn't want to ruin it.
Most of her had dried now. I ran my hand along her neck. Her fur was silky smooth, and felt pleasant under my palm. I stood back to admire my handiwork.
She cleaned up very nicely.


Vet check up||WIP
(note to self: check her teeth, soundness at walk and trot, flexibility, and draw blood.

[Artyblonde]

I updated her story! I've done three actions now c:

[Artyblonde]

okay pardon me i just need to fangirl a little here. palindrome you are such a good artist and cocoa is so freaking cute. look at her spots. look at her cute little puppy tail. omg. i am so grateful. pali you have done such a good job and you are such a good artist and so nice and just. so. great.
so much love for you and your work pali <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
p.s. look at that tiny tail how can you not explode from cuteness i mean come on really

[CertainNorth]

hey pal! can I get access to make a colored in version of this lovely for a tack order?
^^

[palindrome.]

hey pal! can I get access to make a colored in version of this lovely for a tack order?
66

Of course<3