On Monday it was time to clip the hair from my horse’s neck. I’d taken him out for a walk in hand on Sunday and although it wasn’t particularly warm, he was sweating quite a lot after a mile. Poor love – he is in the middle of casting his winter coat, but combine too much hair with a generally shitty fitness level (my fault) he seems to sweat up at the drop of a hat. What didn’t help was that he’d tanked off again on the way back, thanks to a young man on a whiny-assed motorcycle, so his neck and chest were soaking wet by the time he got back to the yard.
So on Monday evening, I grabbed the clippers and off I went. I can’t say that I’m any sort of expert when it comes to clipping horses. When he was at his last yard he was on working livery so other people used to do the clipping. When he came to his current yard, minimal clipping was required and I decided that maybe I should invest in clippers for myself, which I did.
I’d seen other people doing their semi-annual clip, dressed in boiler suits and coveralls and after my first attempt I was mystified as to why this was necessary. My first attempt at a clip wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated – he behaved pretty much impeccably and only got a little impatient when it went on too long. I feel pretty much the same about hairdressers, so didn’t get cross. Hair was clipped, brushed up and disposed of and off I went back home afterwards, very pleased with myself.
After my second clip, I discovered the problem. Oh dear god – horse hair really does get everywhere. Every time I clip his neck and chest I think “oh it won’t be that bad this time” and it always is.
I came back home doing the Dance of the Horsehair Underwear. Anyone who has ever clipped a horse without a hazmat suit knows what I’m talking about. Whilst Obi is very good and stands still, that’s more than can be said for the bits of hair clippings that come away from him. It’s not just that the stuff gets everywhere from head to toe, but it migrates once you’ve got home and, short of having a full decontamination unit outside your front door, you’ll find clippings and bits of hair nestling in all of your clothing and shoes, just waiting to catch you at inopportune moments so that it can poke and tickle you and generally irritate until all you want to do is strip down completely and hose yourself off. I swear the stuff develops little demon legs and scurries up the staircase and into your wardrobe so that I can nestle in every single bit of clothing and footwear in the house.
So Obi’s looking much less hairy around the neck and face and I’m periodically surreptitiously scratching any itches that appear under my (previously) un-hairy clothing!