Baths...Really? Why?

Anything nice I said about Mother, I retract. I am a nice horse. I let myself be caught from the field with no problem. Sure, I figured there was a nice grooming and dinner in it for me. Or maybe dinner, then a brushing, then the rest of my hay. I love that. Sometimes there is no brushing, but there is still dinner. There is always dinner. Except that one time (or two, or three) I was at the hospital and waiting for surgery. No dinner! That's just awful.

What were we talking about? Oh, right, coming in, expecting dinner. But NO! I am cooperative, and what does it get me??

Cold, cold water from the blue snake. Sigh. FINE. But then she grabs the sponge and curry and the soapy bucket and... hello!! I was just warming up from the cold water dosing and she rubs the cold water into my coat?!? With the smelly foam?!

And she is thorough. Every little nook and cranny. Slosh, scrub, slosh, scrub, slosh, scrub. And then my face. Actually, I kind of like the face. Then rinse. Rinse. Rinse. The face rinse was kinda nice. Then scrape, scrape, scrape.

OK, I understand that since humans have no hair (well, they have skimpy manes, I guess) they have different ideas about what is clean enough and what isn't. If she thinks that scrubbing my body is good for me, I can deal. It's not that bad. On a hot summer day, the coolish water feels kind of good. And while it's colder out right now, I guess it's really no worse than being pushed into the pond by one of my brothers back home in North Dakota in the winter. But...

I get a hot dinner mush every night. I know there is some hot water. Why can't she use that on me? Why?

And the halter! I should have known when she came out with the fuscia nylon halter (she says 'raspberry purple', but it's pink) that something weird was going on. I never have to wear that, because I convinced Mother I don't like it, that I only like my black leather halter. I know she thinks the color looks good on me, and says it's purple, but it's pink!!

So, I was a good boy. Sure, I may have purposely aimed my poop into the drain, where it will steep and fester, but a) I never liked that drain, b) she can't prove I did it on purpose. So, I was perfect. And how did she reward me?

She put a big green amoeba on me!!

There are lots of amoebas in the human world that a horse has to learn about. Take, for instance, the amoeba Shavingophilos Gargantigiganticus.
Range: Anywhere. Everywhere! There is one that lives right outside my barn!
Description: blackish brown nebulous blob of indeterminate shape. Sometimes it swells as high as my head and two body lengths in any direction. And it has these creepy edges. Yuck. And sometimes it has appendages, the shovels and brooms to keep it from rising up and coming into the barn!
Movement: erratic. Not only does it move from day to day in broader motions, it can make many small movements, apparently of it's own volition. Although I have noticed this seems to happen on windy days. Hmmm... Perhaps, like us, it feels more unsettled when atmospheric pressures change and usher in weather fronts that are carried by the winds.
Diet: undetermined. This is really what creeps me out about it. One day there is nothing there but the small pile of shavings in its enclosure, then boom! There's this full blown amoeba! What around here could it eat to get that big that fast? But everyone is still in the barn. And the humans actually peel back it's crinkly amoeba skin and stab it with shovels, and they've never been eaten.
Classification: presumed safe. It hasn't eaten anyone yet, so I just keep an eye on it.

Oh, so anyway, Mother puts this big green amoeba on me, and I couldn't see my legs! I barely had hooves! Diet: ME!!

Once it was on awhile, it got nice and warm in the amoeba cocoon. And when we went outside so I may eat the grass, other horses were horrified to see I had been engulfed by an amoeba! But the grass was really good. Fresh, new green, yummmmm...

So Mother then takes off the amoeba. Cooler, but fine. She combs and brushes my mane. Fine. My tail. FINE. She commences spraying me with stuff out of a bottle. Wet again, allover. I just had dried off!! FINE.

Then I had to stand there while she readied my stall. Oh, come on!! Can't I have dinner?

Finally, dinner. And it had Mrs. Pasture's cookies mixed in. What a good day.

Bif