Trust me. I hear you loud and clear. Daily.
Let me explain.
On the grooming: it gets you out of a much worse torture; the bath.
On the one hand: daily thorough grooming. On the other hand: getting drenched with cold water, lathered up, scrubbed, rinsed, cream-rinsed, re-drenched, show-sheened, face washed, forced to stand around in the sun until dry. Or worse: all the above, drenched with cold water, and having a cooler thrown over you to help you dry because it’s raining.
30 minutes a day is a small price to pay, don’t you think? Without the every-inch-thorough grooming, I wouldn’t have found that abscess. I also wouldn’t know the Ted Bundy of horses in the next paddock got his chompers on your butt, and gave you a sore lump the size of Texas.
It’s not like I pick off minute specks of dirt with a Q-tip. Hellooo? Curry and brushes. Tail only when I can wash it. Mane, ditto. And don’t give me any crap about the towel. (Eye rolling.)
You dope, I don’t towel you for the grooming aspect. I do it because you like it. Your lips get all wiggly, your eyes close, and you look like a little foal enjoying a grooming by his mother.
Do you realize you have not had a bath since September? I don’t care all that much about mud. Hellooo…I’m the person who turns you out to roll. Daily grooming keeps the mud from drying out your skin. You might not have noticed, but I leave the dried mud on your legs when it’s soupy, to help prevent scratches.
Next time you are down at the barn, please note the show Arabs lined up at the wash rack: they are bathed daily in all weather, have their manes and tails wrapped 24/7, are clipped every other second, and are not allowed to roll. Ever. They might break a hair. They never go bootless or bell-less. They do not gallop. They must lunge before every ride. They always have to be on. No ambling in the sunshine for them. Their coats could get sunburned.
You are a lucky guy. I’m trying to save you unpleasantness. But hey, if you want to eat your (normal) amount of grain while being groomed, fine.
Ixnay on the trash can-ay.
(Honestly? Sorry you hate the grooming. But we gotta. Can you work with me here?)
On the cattle drive:
We can’t go. I got sick again. I know, I know. I’m sorry.
(FYI, I would be more mortified than you, if I fell off in front of the other cow horses. Trust me, that’s a needless worry.)
How about if I come keep you company while Dinero is gone?
You know, the big arena is dry now. You know what that means…
GALLOP! You wanna?? Maybe find some turkeys to chase?