Your pony stories have brought back some memories of my own. When I was about 11 or 12 years old my mom talked my dad into buying a Shetland for me. Sandy never liked to be ridden and saddling him was always a chore. He would try and bite me when he was offered treats, continually stepped on my feet, and liked to escape his box stall every Sunday morning. I thought that he had most likely been mistreated by former owners. I later bought a Palomina named Jessie and she was just a joy to ride.