Many years ago, when my Aunt Holly stopped by to help bathe me for my first horse show, Brita said:
There are three things you need to know about this horse and baths.#1 He Bites
#2 He Kicks
#3 He will try to get away.
I . Hate . Baths
I protest. I wiggle. I try to get away. So today, after at least a week of putting me away damp and dingy, Brita decided I needed a good thorough bath. All was going pretty well, until she began scrubbing my rump with the jelly scrubber…..
Plop. The lead rope landed at my feet. **SNORT**
Carefully, I stepped back a step.
The lead rope moved with me.
You know what that means Sports Fans. There is no human attached to it.
I spun to my left. WhoopEEEE. No bath for meEEEE.
I trotted up the driveway, hung a hard left and accelerated up the road Wild and Free! Within the first fifty feet I was at a strong gallop, my mane and tail whipping in the wind.
When I reached the horizon, an uncomfortable feeling hit. I was all alone. And that is not a good thing.
What if some dangerous traffic comes along? What if its farm machinery? What if I have to make a life or death decision? All on my own?
I did the only thing a sensible horse would do in that situation. I turned around, and ran home.
Brita met me at the edge of the lawn with my lunch in a bucket (how thoughtful). Mom was standing by in the car, ready to give chase. Which was unlucky for me, because now I was out numbered two to one.
Soon I was subdued and bathed. Scrubbed within an inch of my life. I would have been better off facing the farm machinery.