That is so funny.

Funny and somewhat sad story about my first horse, who I obtained by trading a 1980 Plymouth horizon for

In any event, the sad part first, which is also the beginning of his tale... He arrived at the barn I was working for, underweight, saddle sore scars on his back and a coat, mane and tail matted with mud, briars and god knows...along with an unremovable 30 ft lead on his halter. We couldn't remove the lead because it was the only way to bring him into the stable for food. That's how scared he was of people given his no doubt horrendous upbringing.

For me it was love at first sight though. So went through the negotiations to buy him and board him. ($300.00 car in trade and a 1/4 of my monthly wages for boarding fees, tells you how much the owner of the stable thought he was worth). This was quickly followed up by, trying to convince the horse he was mine now and everything would be alright. (It took far more negotiations with him than the stable owner)

So every night, I would be out in the pasture shaking a feed bucket, getting just close enough to grab the very tail end of his lead rope and then oh so slowly, gently and carefully lead him inside to eat. And while he ate, keeping his eyes on me, I'd act like I was ignoring him while reading aloud from a favorite book and munching on peppermints.

He'd finish his dinner, and I'd move carefully towards his stall and slip him a bit of peppermint as well, ignoring the fact that he'd have himself plastered to the other side of the stall and blowing at me like I was some kind of demon. Within a week though, he stopped blowing at me, still was plastered to the far side of the stall wall, but the peppermint would be gone before I could even make it to the next horse's stall.

Before the month was up, he still wouldn't let you touch his lead rope if you didn't have the feed bucket, but by now he knew where the peppermints were kept and if I didn't walk fast enough back to the barn, he'd nip at my back pocket before dancing back away from me. And naturally, I kept to my "I'm ignoring you" game, though it was so hard not to grab the poor baby up in a hug.

Well one day near disaster struck, I hated having the lead rope on him since they are quite dangerous, and Cash managed to find himself in the very situation I feared. His lead rope got tangle in a bunch of bushes, completely tied around so that his head was trapped with his nose near the ground. He panicked every time I tried to simply release his lead from his halter, which put my hand to close to his head. So I was stuck with the dangerous task of freeing a lead rope from a tightly bunched thicket of bushes with a panicked horse.

Peppermint! I unwrapped one and tossed it in the feed bucket, setting it to where he could reach it, and set about untangling the lead while making as little movement as possible. Not easy since the bushes had thorns which were tearing my arms and hands to shreds. It took well over a half hour to finally free him from his mess and as I figured he immediately took off running once his head was his again. Well, animals have different feelings of gratefulness...

Or so I thought, until I was still crouched down and trying to assess the damage to my arms and hands when Cash came back and nipped once more at my backside, sending me headfirst into the bushes adding scratches to my face and chest now. But it seems he did know how to feel bad about that, and rather than running off he took a few steps back, let me dig my way out, and then actually nuzzled me. Seemed to be checking my injuries over for me.

He shocked me by letting me pet him for the first time in well over a month. And though he still quivered nervously, he allowed my hand to run along him. I patted him a bit, pulled back a blackened hand and told him "Tomorrow you're getting a bath buster." Took off his lead and let him simply follow me into the barn for the rest of his dinner.

He never needed another lead attached to him after that, and he did get his bath the next day, after which he promptly rolled in the mud once more .

He came into our family as one desperately in need of saving, and left saddle "trained" (I have never 'broken' a horse) and a trusting friend, with a slight habit of nipping at back pockets.

Speaking of koi ponds in the days of our lives threads reminded me of my family's misadventures with a little goldfish who led us over a four year trial.

So the little goldfish was a prize from the penny toss game at a carnival my youngest cousin had won. The guy was all set to give her one of the real goldfish (non-feeders) but she wanted the one she had won, wouldn't take any other one.

Naturally we all figured the thing would die before it even made it home. Well it survived the trip home, and the wait in a plastic cup for the night until my aunt could get it a little fishbowl for it. Surely the thing would die by the end of the week, it was a 2 cent feeder goldfish... Nope it survived the week, and the week after and just wouldn't die... But since my aunt isn't into animal cruelty, she made sure the tank was clean, and well aerated... that was her biggest mistake, goldfish apparently grow very, very, very well with plenty of oxygen.

So my DH and I inherited the fish next. We had a 20 gallon tank and the fish had outgrown his little fish bowl. We kept him in the 20 gallon tank until he was about 6" in length, when my dad decided he'd take the fish and let it swim free in his 50 gal tank.

When Goldzilla as we called him finally reached about 10" in length we built the "koi" pond and just for s&g figuring Goldzilla was some kind of freak, we picked him up some company in the form of 20 for a dollar feeder goldfish that we simply dumped into the pond.

There is no telling how big Goldzilla got before he simply disappeared one day. His little friends only reached about 4-6" and only a small handful survived until they too started disappearing one by one the following year (to this day no little fishy bodies have been found.)

I am rather of the belief that the immortal and gigantic Goldzilla grew legs and started the long journey to Tokyo, maybe telling his little buddies where they could find him and they too started heading that way. Who knows maybe, just maybe, he'll turn up in Japan and send us a tweet thanking us for giving him plenty of air before he ransacks Tokyo.

Good fish story.

I'll bet the missing fish were "dinner" for larger preditors. We have Blue Herrons and racoons who are both excellent fish killers/eaters.

We know when our large goldfish dissapeared years ago that the Blue Herrons got them. A few of the luckier fish had definate signs of being "poked" by something, probably a bird beak. (Those that were stabbed healed fine.)
Very shortly after that we otdered a large,, plastic tunnel about 30" long, about 12" wide and 10" high for the fish to hide from preditors. No losses since and the fish swim through it constantly. It's been years since I ordered it, but you could try searching under outdoor pond fish tunnel.

I'll keep that in mind if we decide to do another fish pond. After the little fishes disappearance we ended using the area we had dug out for them as a the burial plot for two of our puppy dogs. One a sweet, vet rescue we received after the Doc incident and the other, also received after Doc was a husky. (He lived to at least age 20 ).

Which now that I think about it, all of my pets have been 'rescues' of some sort, with the exception of fish . But all the furry critters and shelled critters and even scaled critters (with legs) have been rescue pets.