A year or two ago, I saw a show on Animal Planet about a man who had a degenerative eye disease that made him slowly go blind. At the time of the filming, he was about 40 and 99% blind. Not only had he lost many of his friends, but his self-worth and will to live had plummeted. He was ashamed to use a walking stick and was receding further and further from society.
Then Cuddles, the miniature helper pony, came into his life. With his golden, flowing mini-mane and tiny, adorable miniature helper pony shoes, Cuddles not only allowed this blind man to venture out into the world safely and comfortably, but also allowed him to come to terms with his disease and begin to love life and himself once again.
Now, when I watched this before, I thought, “miniature ponies are useful and intelligent companions for the disabled. That show was interesting and informative.”
Last night, though, as I was up as usual, from about 3 AM to 7 AM, a slave to my type-II insomnia, the program came on again and I watched it again. This time, with tears welling in my eyes, I thought, “Cuddles, you are a miniature miracle! Who needs sight when they could have you, you teensy-hoofed phenom! If only I had a Cuddles to prance ahead of me, warning me of dangers and guiding me safely through life!”
What was the difference between these two viewings? Apparently, I think, miniature ponies are the best litmus test for me when it comes to my emotional stability. Better even then how I react to new magazine pieces on sports figures overcoming adversity.
I’m thinking I should even carry a picture of a miniature helper pony with me always, so that I can tell whether I’m capable making rational decisions or not. You know, say I’m about to start a fight with Ben about something stupid, and I’m not sure if I’m overreacting. I’d take the picture out, look at it, and evaluate my response. If I think, “That animal is a surprisingly small wonder of science,” then I could go ahead and voice my concerns to Ben. If I think, “Oh, Cuddles, if you were only here, I could hold your tiny hooves and look into your black, shining eyes! I might even buy you a miniature saddle, and then perch something like a cat on the saddle, and then take pictures!” Then I might let things go.
I’m even wondering if miniature helper ponies are a universal emotional litmus test for all people, across all cultures. I mean, what do you feel when you see a picture like that?
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