As a child I spent every summer at my uncle's farm. Before I owned a horse of my own I cared for two horses that belonged to my relatives and a small pony that someone gave to my uncle. The poor thing was in bad shape when it arrived at the farm. It had not been fed properly nor had its hoofs been trimmed in a very long time. The hoofs had grown so much they had curled up in front of the pony's legs. Each hoof was thick and curled in such a fashion my uncle was unsure of how to trim them. He started with a file and ended up with a saw. We feared the pony would never recover or be crippled for the rest of his life. Over a long period of time my uncle continued to work on the hoofs and finally the pony was able to walk normally although, the frog part of his hoofs never recovered. This pony became sleek and fat, he loved oats, but loved getting into the dog food barrel even more. When coming into the barn slipping and sliding on his hoofs he would head straight for the barrel which sat in front of the milk cow stanchions, and flip off the lid and start munching away. When approached he would make a mad dash to the back of the barn and drink the barn cats milk before going into his stall. It is so sad the way some people treat their animals, but it always makes one feel good when a bad case of animal abuse turns into a story of hope and recovery.