Black Pudding

Auntie Erin and Mother gave me a thorough bath on Saturday. Mother even shampooed and conditioned my mane, which she only does maybe once a year because it takes so long to rinse all the suds out. With the temperatures over a hundred these last few days, I was happy for the long, cool water activity.

When Mother came up to see me this afternoon, she was saying things like ick, eeewwhh, and what the hell, Boyfriend? What? Just because I've already rolled today in some fine, fine black dirt?

And sweated. A LOT.

And appear, according to Mother, to have had a fine layer of some sort of bizarre, gritty, horrific black pudding smeared all over my body, up on my head... really, just everywhere.

Mother put a halter on me, grimacing and shying away when I touched her, and led me to the barn porch where I got a good, loooong hosing off. She got all the mystery treacle off my head and body, careful to try to keep my mane dry, as when it is wet it holds in the heat as well as being heavy.

She re-fly-sprayed me and let me out into the Small, where I proceeded to wander out to the back pasture to eat grass. All the other horses stayed inside, but I thought the warm air felt good against my cool hide.

Mother just stopped in to see me a few minutes ago, petting me under the hazy full moon. My coat felt cool and dry, with nary a crunchy, salt crusted, dried sweat hair upon me.

What a pleasant evening.