Pirmin Nohr
I may or may not have inadvertently killed what I love the most for someone else.  This week, I had parked my car out by the arena and in closing the trunk, spooked a little pony trotting by and who subsequently threw the girl off its back in the process of running away from LOUD NOISES.  Ponies are such bastards, aren't they?  The girl stood right up but I could tell, even from a distance, that she was struggling mightily not to cry.  She wobbled a few steps and her trainer came over to see if she was okay.  I felt so terrible and walked over, apologizing profusely the entire time.  The trainer waved me off and said that everything was okay, but I couldn't help but think that karma was going to come back and bite me in the butt on this one.

A day later, the trainer came over to chat and also kindly reassure me that I should be allowed to close car doors within hearing distance of the barn, without people falling off their mounts.  The little girl had complained to her trainer after she fell, "Why does the pony get scared?  They should never get scared!"  Indeed my dear, would it not be lovely if no one got scared?  After she caught her breath, she got back on again (it's almost a rule, you have to immediately get back on **barring serious injury** after you fall off).  Because that's what happens in life.  You get scared, you fall, and you get back on again.

Although I've officially been pardoned, I still can't help but feel guilty that I ruined horses and horseback riding for her forever.  To quote Ben Stiller: I killed the thing I love the most!  At least her bank account will thank me for it later.