Pear kisses

What's a pony of little means and no access to the cashpoint to do when it comes to gifts for his favourite human?

He was obviously giving it much thought today, as he lay in his box, straw tangled in his mane, eyes shut tight, lightly snoring.

"Mornin' Max!"

"Snrt."

"It's my birthday, Max!"

"Pfft."

"Shall I come back and see you later? Have you got me a present?"

"Ssh! Sleepy time now. Shoo!"

Yes, he was thinking hard all right!

Full morning at the yard, so Max's day off. I spent a little time with him after my shift to check him over, remove straw from his mane and forelock, pick out his hooves, and give him a pear as a parting token of my esteem.

I gave him a big hug round his neck, "Get OFF me woman!" and told him I wouldn't apologise because he was just too huggable, and I get to do stuff like that on my birthday: hug ponies, squeeze kittens, stamp my feet and demand special treatment.

It was then that Max decided to steal a kiss, velvety nose nuzzled against my cheek while big eyes stared at me.

"Aww Max! That kiss smelled of pear."

"Pair of what? Heh heh hee! Oh stop, my sides are achin'!"

Sheesh.