Last week, news broke that Kylie Jenner, of Kardashian and Lip Kit fame, splashed out an alleged $200,000 on a 17-year-old pony named Frozen for her two year daughter Stormi. At least one of them is happy about that transaction…


I honestly don’t know how it happened.

One minute, I’m hanging out at Stal Wilten in the Netherlands, carrying teeny (yet excellent) riders over equally teeny jumps. I’m really living the life, y’know? Just doing the small pony thing, ready to win all the championships my little heart can handle.

Then the next thing I know, I’m loaded on a trailer and flown halfway across the world to meet my new owner. A child who, if I understand it correctly, wouldn’t know a proper distance if it was served to her on a solid gold platter.

I mean, obviously I knew I was for sale. (I’m a pony, not an idiot.) But I kind of figured I was headed to a home where my owners knew that a Liverpool wasn’t just a city in England, if you know what I mean.

I am, to put it mildly, pony-pissed off.

I am Frozen, wonder pony. I have the soul of a champion. I have the athleticism, breeding and grace a 17-hand warmblood packed into a 12.1 hand body and the cute round booty to back it up. I was bred for greatness, destined to spend my best years compensating for missed distances and flapping garter-strapped legs. And I have done my job admirably—with my tiny knees pulled right up to my adorable perked ears.

And where have all my years of training gotten me? Am I galloping under show lights to the applause of a stadium full of cheering fans? Am I destined for the Pony Finals in Kentucky? Am I the shining star of a vigorous lesson program, fawned over by kids with pigtails and pockets stuffed with carrots?

No. No I am not. All my hard work has evidently earned me a one-way ticket to Leadlinesville. Population: Me.

Years spent practicing flawless automatic lead changes, wasted. Near decades of perfecting my pony ‘tude, down the drain.

Instead, I find that I’ll spend my prime years carting around someone who hasn’t even heard of a diagonal, let alone a crest release. I’ve been demoted to the ranks of a child celebrity pony, doomed to a lifetime of photo ops, only sticking around as long as I’m “on brand,” whatever the hell that means.

I mean, look at my snowy white tail for God’s sake. That’s a tail meant for a show ring, not for another Instagram selfie. (Although I have to say, I do take fabulous pics. #NoFilter).


It’s disappointing to say the least, though I suppose it could be worse. I mean, when your only job is to look cute and not bite a child in the face, it’s pretty easy to live up to expectations. And while I am nervous about this rumored name change to “Cloudi” I keep hearing about, I guess that living a life of luxury in return for occasionally being paraded around for a TikTok video isn’t all bad.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to eat my feelings in what is admittedly the best quality alfalfa I’ve ever tasted.

Hooves crossed expensive snow white ponies continue to fit with the Jenner brand aesthetic.


Frozen, Show Trophy Pony