In the past few months Spirit’s been starting to act old. He’s not as talkative as normal and he’s getting cold. One night I put one of Prize’s winter blankets on him when he came inside. I mentioned it to the husband and said that I didn’t know what I was going to do when it got really cold. Spirit would be mad if he had to stay inside. The husband asked why I didn’t get a turnout blanket for him like I had for Prize. Well, duh! I never thought of it. He’s always had such a thick coat that he didn’t need one. He still has a thick coat so I didn’t make the connection. Sometimes you need someone who doesn’t know anything to ask the obvious questions.
Well today was the first time it was really cold during the day since I bought him a blanket. He’s been wearing Prize’s at night but they are way too big for him. He seemed to like having them though. At least he didn’t actively resist having them put on which is the best you can expect from him.
He apparently doesn’t feel the same about a blanket of his own.
Spirit: You are NOT putting that on me.
Me: It will keep you warm outside.
S: It’s purple!
Me: Yeah, well, it was hard to find one in a pony size. They only had this one. I guess most little girls want their ponies dressed in purple.
S: Forget it!
I chase him around the stall for a while and finally get the blanket on. He refuses to leave his stall.
Me: Come on
Me: Blankets keep you warm. I thought you liked having the blanket on these last few nights.
S: In the privacy of my stall where no one can see me.
Dragging of pony ensues. I get him to the pasture. He stands perfectly still – no walking, no grazing. I’d say he was trying to blend into the background if a pony draped in electric purple was actually able to blend.
I go back and bring Rosie out. She creeps up and touches the purple blanket with her nose and runs away. Spirit starts to graze in an attempt to ignore her. I go get Prize. I tell her not to laugh at Spirit’s blanket. She spots it as soon as she steps out of the barn. She openly stares. I let her go and she runs over to him. She trips and almost falls down in her haste to go tug on his blanket. Spirit shoots me an “I told you it was AWFUL!” look as he trots to the far reaches of the pasture with Prize in hot pursuit, tugging on the back of his blanket occasionally. At least he’ll have the burning shame of his embarrassment to keep him warm.