In memory of my old Bess, who had been my companion since I was four years old, and who was slain by a deer hunter when she was 28, I raise a glass to your dear friend.

Old ponies are indeed special and there is no doubt in my mind that they go directly to heaven where they are again young, have all their teeth, can run and jump streams, and where there are fields of tender young corn just for them.

May you and your daughter feel ease soon, kat, just know that the old girl is at peace now.

Your friend, Giac