Her name was Rare and she was a delicate little flower.
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haack haacl hack 
"Nononono!" you say, in the ancient prayer of all pet owners and parents, everywhere.
There's the final hork as you manage to fish the paper towel out of your pocket.
A little pile of undigested grass puke and clear fluid lays there, beside a small white pony.
"Dangit Rares, I told you, on the plastic!" you scold as you clean up the mess."
"Sorry, Dining."
You go back to the kitchen and unplug the frying pan you were working at and go about the business of setting up the small carpet cleaner. You turn it on, run it over the blotch a few times then turn it off.
"Is it done yet?" Rare asks nonchalant.
"No. Go wait in the bathroom. "
Rare trots away from where she peed herself in fear. Also on the carpet.
You run the carpet cleaner over the pee first, wondering how she managed to pee green.
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You try to jam the finger into Rare's mouth. Then you try to scrape the Oragell off the wrong tooth.
Rare is still continuing to emit the high pitched sound, a muffled scream. 
"How in Sam Hill did you manage to break a tooth?!" you ask again.
You don't know what she actually said but she protested her innocence. Somehow the sound continued, like two people speaking at the same time. Was it not a sound made by her throat? Was that possible?
"You were only eating warm buttered bread!" 
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You heat the needle up again. Rarity- no, Rare, cowered in the corner of the shower stall. It had been just a scratch, unnoticed under her white horse-hair fur. The black lines that ran outwards on her leg had tiny beads of ichor where you pierced her thin semi-horse flesh. You have to get the main infection out. You do have to admit the partially formed eight-pointed star of chaos just down from her cutie mark makes for a good photo.
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"Vitamins and minerals."
"Yes, In the vitamins."
"Where are the minerals?"
"In the vitamins."
"But I'm already taking minerals."
"Are you eating loose change again? Because after what we did over the car keys, I- just don't OK."
"I didn't eat you keys, Dining, I'm simply eating some pies."
"Pies. Did you eat the Pinkie Pie mini?"
"No, I made them myself."
As you try to think of what she could mean, something else falls into place. 
"No, Rares, those are mudpies. You're thinking of your mud baths."
"But it's full of minerals."
"It's full of dirt."
You watch as she struggles to turn over the idea that she's full of dirt too.
"C'mon, Rare, let's get you back in the shower stall." Now that it had been pointed out, she'll keep worrying about it until she gives herself an upset tummy, then, you're going to want her to be someplace easily cleanable.
You bring her inside, hoping that it's only dirt that she'll throw up. You remember that license plate scene from Jaws... 
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The two of you walk down the sidewalk, on the return trip from the store.
She follows on her unsteady mismatched-length legs. You cut your speed, and let Rare catch up. Her saddlebags (laden with one bag of chips, one bag of cheesies) bob along with her unsteady stride. Red leg or not she needs the exercise. You hear it again. She's not humming, she's whistling. It sounds like an off-tune Mozart or Jethro Tull one of those classical music cds she likes.
You pat her head. Your hand touches her ear. You feel the vibration. Yeas, the sound is coming from the ear. The ear is whistling.
The rest of the walk home you wonder if you should take her to the veterinarian, though you've already taken her to the vet.
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Rare takes the carrot in her mouth. Carefully she puts it down on the plastic mat. Carefully she puts her red leg on the disk attached to the paper cutter. The lever cuts the carrot in half, too far away from the greens. You smile as you collect the two haves of the carrot, to be peeled, diced, and served. Rare tries to flip her mane. 
"Yay! I made dinner! Fine Dining for us!" 
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