Ginger's Haircut

When I was seven years old, after my Daddy died, we moved to a smaller house with a horse pasture in the backyard and also on one side of it.  We had a double-car garage with an unfinished apartment over it that served as a barn.  The garage had no doors, so the horses could easily go inside out of the weather.  

That's when I met Ginger.

Ginger was my friend, Sudie's horse, but she lived at my house. She was smaller than a regular horse and larger than a pony.  She was red...thus the name.  

Ginger with one of her foals.

Ginger would bite.  Ginger would kick.  When Ginger laid her ears back on her head, you might as well get ready.  She was up to no good.

Looking back now I think, "Well, who could blame her???"  We pretty much worried Ginger to death, I'm sure.  

Our neighborhood was just full of little girls back in the 1960s when we were little and Ginger was in her prime, and you know how much little girls love horses.

Poor Ginger.

One time Sudie, Ruth, and I decided to cut Ginger's "hair" (mane).  Have you ever seen a horse with bangs?  -laughing-  Poor poor Ginger.

Imagine something like this only the bangs were straighter and much shorter and sticking out more.

I still remember that conversation very well.  The three of us had a pair of scissors and were discussing who should do the deed.  We went back and forth until Ruth finally said, "Let me do it.  My aunt's a beautician."

Well, that made perfect sense to Sudie and me, so we let Ruth do it.

Man.  We got in trouble!  -laughing-  

Sudie and I were only 8 or 9 years old at the time and Ruth must have been 10 or 11, which is probably why our parents didn't actually kill us.  

It still makes me laugh every time I think about poor Ginger with that haircut.  It took a very long time for it to grow back out to where she looked normal again.  

Ginger was also how I broke my arm in third grade, but that is a story for another day.   😱