Because life with horses is never orderly.
Can anyone honestly say they enjoy this wretchedness?
I HATE body clipping; mostly because I spend the next two days finding hair in every crevice of my being. Woody hates body clipping because it leaves him naked. And cold. He mostly hates me for making him cold.
He’s just lucky I’ve outgrown my clipping designs on his ass phase. Well, mostly outgrown it…So it is now officially Fall. I know this not because of any calendar, but because Woody has transformed from a short, fat, QH into a short, fat, Wooly Mammoth. Said transformation is as inevitable and immutable as the stupidity of the local Wal-Martians I encounter when I’m masochistic enough to shop at Wal-Mart. Due to such, I’ve given up on the more refined ways of keeping a horse from growing a coat (lights with timers and various horsey clothing) and have resigned myself to shearing his wooly butt a few times each winter. I’m pretty sure he’s not a fan of his poodle cut, but I’m not a fan of his wool getting tangled around the girth and him being lathered after a 15 minute ride because he has 18″ of hair and it’s still 90+ degrees outside. As I have the bigger brain and the opposable thumbs, I get to make the call. Surprisingly, he’s yet to retaliate; probably out of fear that it might result in another cut to his already meager food rations.