Poor Spirit! He was completely and thoroughly abused this morning. It is a wonder he survived it all.
I had a nutrition consultant scheduled to come and do an analysis on his feeding program since he is old and delicate and it was free. So, he wasn’t allowed to go outside as he thinks he should first thing every morning. That would have been bad enough but his stall cleaner showed up so he got his halter on and his hopes up but still didn’t get to go outside.
So he was in a tizzy by the time I descended on him with aspirations of a good grooming since he was having company. The nutrition person wouldn’t really care but I was using it as an excuse to get rid of the dreds. His mane hair is long and fine and there is a lot of it. Left to its own devices it dredlocks. It is a pain to fix so I mostly ignore it because I’m lazy. I decided that it was time for them to go.
He hates to be groomed. Now he was mad because he didn’t get to go outside and he was being groomed. This led to him throwing himself against the door to try to open it. When that didn’t work he tried smashing me against the stall, but I know him too well for that to work. So we spent a lot of time circling in the stall while I brushed and cut his mane. I could have tied him up but watching him be mad was quite entertaining.
He would stomp and snort and glare at me and I’d add insult to injury by cooing, “Who’s a pretty pony?” and kissing him on the nose just to annoy him.
When I finished the mane I still had some time so I decided to start on his tail. Tails are a Morgan’s crowning glory. They grow them to the ground with no upkeep. I can’t remember the last time I did any work on his tail. Apparently he couldn’t either because he acted like getting his tail brushed was a sign of the approaching apocalypse. If I was brushing his tail something horrible was going to happen. I didn’t get far when the nutrition lady got there. He was so relieved to have me quit brushing him that he was on best behavior for her. She checked his fat and his muscle tone and declared him in fairly good shape for an old man. She took samples of the hay for analysis and will send me those results in a week with a breakdown of how much grain he needs to meet his nutritional requirements.
After she left I sent his now slightly more handsome self out to the pasture. He went off muttering to himself. Some horses are just not appreciative of the work I go through for them.
Clyde would thoroughly approve of an attitude like that. He thinks it’s the mark of a total wuss to be well-groomed 😉
Glad to hear he’s in good shape, as the owner of another Grand Old Man!
merry, Juliet and Clyde xxx