His name was Clyde. And yes, he came with a Bonnie. That should have been the first indication of trouble. Or a big red flag. But I believe when you ask for something in this world, you receive it. My problem is, I always think I know what the answer should look like. There I go thinking again. So when I first heard of Clyde, I had one of those inexplicable hits—that jolt of intuition that says, “I got a feeling…” And I did. That I was his last resort. He was rescued. From a sale. One of the first things I shared with his owner was, “There’s a reason he was there.” A young, sound, cute little pony doesn’t end up on the chopping block because he’s a joy to handle. But his rescuer continued wi
The Abnormal Mom's Survival Guide
Essays on finding grace during the not-so-finer things in life.
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