Monthly Archives: September 2012

Update 23/09/12

Those of you who’ve come to my blog and enjoyed my writing, but have become hungry for more, fear not.  I have a schedule to keep to, but I’ve written another Cheesecake story and once I’ve polished it, I’ll be posting it for all to see.  Sit tight.


2) Cheesecake and the Snob

Cheesecake was a reddish-brown Shetland pony with a straw-yellow mane.  She lived at Hockpoll Stables with Sally Withers and her parents.  Cheesecake loved her owners, but just couldn’t help doing cheeky things every so often.

One morning, Cheesecake was out grazing with Maisie, the grey Arabian mare.  Maisie had once teased Cheesecake about her size, but now they were friends, Maisie had discovered that Cheesecake’s size could be a good thing, especially as they groomed one another.

“Wonderful,” Maisie said happily.  “I can never reach my belly half as well as you can, Cheesecake.”

“And I can’t reach my loins as easily as you can, Maisie,” Cheesecake replied.

After they had finished grooming, Maisie and Cheesecake went for a trot together.

“It’s good I look my best too,” Maisie said as they ran.  “Hockpoll Stables is hosting a big country show in two weeks’ time.  I could win the Best In Show rosette!”

“Good luck,” smiled Cheesecake.

The night before the country show, big marquees were put up in the fields around Hockpoll Stables.  A lot of the horses would be at the show, including Cheesecake, who would be giving rides for the children.

The morning of the show, the Withers family got up early.  All the horses were washed, groomed and made to look their very best, with Maisie receiving the most attention.

Mrs Withers had just finished cleaning Maisie’s hooves with a hoof pick when Mr Withers came into her stall.

“Yes, Philip?” Mrs Withers said.

“Bad news, Alison,” Mr Withers said in a worried voice.  “The Goodalls are entering the show.  Come and see.”

Mr and Mrs Withers, Maisie and Cheesecake all looked over at the field opposite.  A spectacular chestnut Arabian mare was being lead down from a trailer by a smug-looking couple.

“Oh no,” groaned Maisie.

“Who is that?” Cheesecake asked.

“Her name’s Regan,” Maisie groaned.  “She’s won rosettes all over the country and never lets the losers forget it.  She is the most spoilt and selfish horse ever.”

“But what a dish!” grinned Wurzel the cob, his lip curling forward in delight.

“Oh grow up, Wurzel,” Cheesecake snapped.

Mr and Mrs Withers bridled the horses, then led them to the field two at a time.  Cheesecake couldn’t help noticing that Mrs Withers wasn’t smiling as she led her down to the fields.

Cheesecake was thrilled as Mrs Withers led her towards the show.  There were so many different animals; cocks and hens, pigs, sheep, cows and colossal prize bulls.  Children were lining up to play games or have their faces painted.  Adults were showing off traction engines and steam ploughs, or dancing in colourful costumes.

As Maisie and Cheesecake walked past the horses’ stalls, Regan poked her head over the fence.

“Ready to lose to me, Donkey Features?” she sneered at Maisie.  “Why not just move to the Grand Canyon with the other mules?  It’ll save us all time.”

Maisie seethed and urged Mr Withers to walk her past faster.

“Watch it, Snob,” Cheesecake hissed at Regan.  “Mess with my friends and I’ll make you regret it.”

“I’d like to see you try, Thumbelina!” sneered Regan, shrieking with horsey laughter.

Cheesecake, Maisie and Regan

Cheesecake was fastened to a large iron carousel with three other ponies.   Throughout the morning, a handler sat children on her back and trotted them round in a circle.  Cheesecake loved seeing the children happy.

However, she also kept an eye on Regan.  Maisie had been right; she was the rudest and most vicious horse imaginable.  A man tried to stroke her muzzle and she snapped at him.  She did the same with horses who tried to share her hay.  At one point, Wurzel came up to her, offering her a carrot with his mouth.

“I’m here,” he grinned.  “What were your other two wishes?”

Regan kicked a clod of earth in his face.  “I don’t mix with shaggy-haired bumpkins,” she snapped.

Cheesecake glared at Regan.  She couldn’t let such a horrible horse win!

At lunchtime, the ponies were let off the carousel for feeding and watering.  Not far away, three men were putting a fresh coat of paint on their traction engine.  An idea came into Cheesecake’s head.

She gave a loud whinny and summoned her friend, Carlo the magpie.  She asked him to fly over and tell her what Regan was up to.

When Carlo returned he said, “She’s taking a nap in her trailer.”

Perfect, thought Cheesecake.  She whispered her plan to Carlo.  Both of them sniggered with glee.

A few minutes later, Carlo passed Cheesecake’s plan on to Maisie and Wurzel.  Carlo then slid back the lock on Maisie’s enclosure, setting her and several other horses loose.  In the confusion, Cheesecake ran over to the traction engine and snatched the tins of paint.

Next, Cheesecake ran over to Regan’s enclosure.  Being very strong for her size, she was able to kick away part of the fence and crawl inside.  Then she kicked away another part of the fence so Wurzel could jump it.  Trying hard not to laugh, they sneaked into Regan’s trailer.

An hour later, everything was back to normal and the judge was announcing the entrants for the Best Horse in Show competition.  Mrs Goodall, who was just as proud as Regan, was boasting how she couldn’t lose.  Mrs Withers glared at her.

However, when Mr Goodall led Regan out of her trailer, he turned scarlet with humiliation and Mrs Goodall screamed.  Regan now had a lime green body and a sky blue mane!  All over the field, people and horses alike screamed with laughter.  Regan hung her head in shame.  She could never win now.

That evening, a very happy Maisie was led back to the stables, a blue Best In Show rosette pinned to her bridle.

“Thank you so much for your help, Cheesecake,” she said.  “Your cheekiness pays off again.”

“That snob Regan had snob-iz-ness bullying my friends!” Cheesecake smiled.

And all the horses laughed together.

1) Here Comes Cheesecake

Cheesecake and the Witherses

Cheesecake was a Shetland pony.  Like all Shetland ponies she was short; nine-and-a-bit hands high, or about as tall as a table top.  Her body was reddish brown and round like a barrel.  Her mane formed a long, shaggy, straw yellow fringe covering her eyes.

Cheesecake lived at Hockpoll Stables with Mr and Mrs Withers and their daughter Sally.  The stable was home to lots of horses, but while Sally had wanted to ride one ever since she could remember, all the horses were too big for her.

That was why Mr and Mrs Withers had bought Cheesecake.  When Sally first saw the little pony walking out of the trailer into the stable yard, she squealed with glee.

“Mummy, she’s beautiful,” Sally said.  “I love her hair.”

“Yes, very unusual,” agreed Mrs Withers.

“Yellow above and brown below,” Mr Withers thought aloud.  “Like the vanilla cheesecake we had the other night.”

And that was how Cheesecake got her name.

Sally spent time with Cheesecake every day.  Her mother taught her feeding, grooming, how to put Cheesecake’s tack on and of course, riding.  Sally showed Cheesecake off to all her friends, who loved to give Cheesecake a stroke.

Most of the time, Cheesecake was ever so well-behaved.  Yet every so often, she loved to do something cheeky.  Sometimes she played a game with Sally, shuffling out of the way every time Sally tried to put her saddle on.  She only stopped when Sally started to get angry.

Cheesecake did cheeky things to everyone.  She would roll over in the mud when Mrs Withers had just groomed her.  She stole food from the pockets of Sally’s friends.  When the farrier came to trim Cheesecake’s hooves, she kicked him in the bottom.  When the vet came to examine Cheesecake for illness, she grabbed his toupee and tossed over the fence.  She even swallowed Mr Withers’ car keys once, when he parked next to Cheesecake’s paddock.

“That pony is pure evil!” Mrs Withers tutted.

“Aw, Mummy, she’s not all bad,” Sally said, which was true.

Sally’s Aunt Hazel told Sally there must be a mischievous fairy living in the nearby woods that flew into Cheesecake’s paddock, whispered in her ear and made her do naughty things.  Sally wasn’t sure she believed this.

Yet Cheesecake was visited by someone who lived in the woods; a magpie named Carlo.  He often visited Cheesecake as he flew by Hockpoll Stables, perching on a fence post so they could talk to each other.

One Sunday, Carlo found Cheesecake alone and looking rather sad.

“Hello, Cheesecake,” he squawked.  “Feeling a bit low?”

“Yes,” snorted Cheesecake.

“Why?” asked Carlo.

“Because I don’t have friends here,” Cheesecake said.  “Back where I used to live there were ponies like me everywhere.  But here, all the horses think I look strange.  Lancer the thoroughbred makes fun of my mane.  He says I should get it weeded.  Wurzel the cob makes fun of my shape, saying I belong in a pig sty, not a stable.  Maisie the Arabian says I belong in a mouse hole because I’m so short.”

A tear trickled down Cheesecake’s cheek.

“I know Sally and the others love me,” Cheesecake sniffed.  “But how can I stop the others teasing me?”

“Do something to earn their respect,” Carlo said.  “And I think I know what that could be.”

Opposite Cheesecake’s enclosure was a feed store, where Mrs Withers stored all the oats, hay and other food for the horses.  Cheesecake was only a small pony, but she was very clever and strong for her size.  Carlo knew this, and with her help, they hatched a plan.

On Monday, when she was out of her enclosure, Cheesecake used her mouth to pick several bottles out of the green bin near the entrance to the stable yard.  She tossed them into her enclosure.  Mrs Withers was nearby, but did not notice.

On Tuesday, Sally took Cheesecake’s saddle off after riding and went to fetch Cheesecake’s body brush to groom her.  Sally didn’t notice as Cheesecake slipped into the tack room and stole a riding crop.

On Wednesday, Cheesecake went over to the old willow tree that grew beside her enclosure.  Using all her strength, she tore a stout branch free.  She then hid it behind her stall.

When Thursday came, Mr Withers was taking Sally to swimming practice while Mrs Withers stayed behind to finish off some paperwork.  This was the moment Cheesecake had been waiting for.

She kicked a stone towards the old willow tree, dislodging the bottles she had piled in one of the branches overhanging the stable yard.  They smashed on the flagstones.

Mrs Withers rushed into the stable yard and was very surprised to see the pile of broken glass.  She had to sweep it up, but as she walked back to the house to fetch a broom, Carlo flew out of the open door carrying one of the horse brasses that hung in the kitchen.

“Give that back!” shouted Mrs Withers, chasing Carlo down the road, towards the woods.

Once Mrs Withers was gone Cheesecake retrieved the stolen riding crop from behind her stall and used it to slide back the bolt on her enclosure gate.  Then, she went around the stable yard and freed all the horses in the stalls.

“Fancy a feast?” she called to the horses happily.

“How would you get us a feast, Squirt?” Wurzel said lazily.

“Just watch,” said Cheesecake.

She ran back to her enclosure and, lifting the willow branch, she charged the feed store door and broke it down.  All the horses whinnied with joy.  Soon they were eating as much as they could from the sacks in the feed store.

“She was smart enough to open all the bolts,” Lancer said between mouthfuls.

“And to steal that riding crop,” Wurzel laughed.

“We’re sorry we teased you, Cheesecake,” Maisie smiled.  “You’re the best.”

Cheesecake didn’t reply.  She was too busy eating.

My first writing post

Dear fellow bloggers,

Here is the first of what I hope will be many stories relating to my character, Cheesecake the Pony.  She’s a smart and mischevious little pony who with an essentially good heart, but loves to be naughty every so often.  I’m hoping that these stories will translate well onto a blog, since they’ve been written out on Word.  All the same, I welcome all comments, and I hope you enjoy reading and sharing my stories.

Yours very truly,

Robert Paterson