Wet and Wild

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.

REALLY?

Yes, Really!

You see.

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.