Meet Joe. Joe is my best horse pal. He's around twenty years old. He's not a fancy dude, but spend five minutes with him, and you too will consider him a friend. He loves to socialize and besides eating and sleeping, his favourite thing in the world is being groomed. You could brush him for two hours straight and he would still look at you reproachfully when you are done as if to say that's all? We don't have a barn, only run-in shelters, so my horses are out and about most of the time, and they end up looking SCRUFFY 97 percent of the time. The grooming opportunities are endless, and even though the results are rarely stellar, the activity itself is highly therapeutic (for both horse and human).
I gave Joe a good brushing today, which we both thoroughly enjoyed. It's been quite windy lately, and Joe's somewhat stringy mane had some snarled-up areas. Some people call those snarly tangles witches knots. I don't know if that's because they are well-nigh impossible to get out, or if it's based on some old folk-tale about witches riding horses at night when nobody is looking. I'm inclined to believe it's the latter.