Anu's Sultan

“When will he feel better?”

- Jennifer Riesmeyer Elvgren

Grandfather frowned as he felt the inside of Sultan’s front hoof. The Connemara pony winced. “It’s warm,” said Grandfather with a sigh. “I think he has a mild case of founder.”

“I can’t believe he unlatched the bin and ate all that grain,” said Anu.

“Ponies will eat themselves sick any chance they get,” said Grandfather. “And the sickness has gone straight to this one’s hooves.”

Grandfather stood up. He held on to his hat as a brisk wind swept the Irish coast.

“When will he feel better?” asked Anu. She scratched the pony’s ears as he hung his head. “We’ll cut back on his grain and rest him,” said Grandfather. “In a few days he should be right as rain.”

“But what about going to the market tomorrow?” asked Anu.

“We can go next week when Sultan is well enough to pull the cart.” Grandfather filled the pony’s bucket with fresh water. “But the fish will spoil, and the rent . . .” Anu’s voice trailed off.

“The sea has always been kind to us, child. There will be more fish.” Grandfather poured half a scoop of grain into Sultan’s trough, then he smiled at Anu. “And the rent will get paid. Now off to bed with you. Leave the worrying to me.”

Anu kissed Sultan’s nose, then Grandfather’s cheek. “Good night,” she said as she headed toward the cottage.