His show name was My Thriller, and I have rescued him twice—once when he was a 2-year-old pony in a killer pen at the stockyards and again about 12 years later when his show career was cut short because of Cushing’s disease and founder.

Situations change, and sometimes people are no longer able to care for the ponies they once loved and showed. However, someone has to step up and continue to care for that pony, or it will ultimately end up in a bad situation, such as where I initially found My Thriller.

For this week's Throwback Thursday post, we've dug up a classic Cooky McClung column...

No one ever promised that keeping horses and maintaining a stable was easy. Those of us who choose to do so, do it for many reasons, none of which include easy.

We do it because it’s more satisfying to look at a clean barn and freshly bedded stalls than it is to vacuum and dust the house. We do it because we don’t mind the exercise involved, which is equally as strenuous as using 20 different Nautilus machines, and we don’t have to join a club or leave home.