Lease Girl and Mitzi had a pretty good lesson this morning--although it's about time to break out the fly spray. Afterward Mitzi was so sweaty we decided it was also time to address bathing in the wash stall.

The wash stall at our barn is completely enclosed, and in common with other Fearful horses (or so I am told) Mitzi can be claustrophobic. The actual stalls in our barn are open-plan, with wire mesh between horses instead of solid walls so she hasn't had much practice with enclosed stalls lately. She accepts being hosed off but I've always thought it would be best to do the wash stall thing when there was someone else around to wield the hose while I held her.

We've practiced walking into the stall and she followed me in without hesitation, then stood there blowing and gathering her nerve for a minute. I got her to lower her head, Lease Girl got her some peppermints, and after she'd stood there for a minute or two Lease Girl turned on the horse and directed it at Mitzi's feet.

She didn't exactly like it, but she didn't object, jump around, or try to get away. The water was lukewarm and seemed to feel pretty good. I did make sure Lease Girl was always in a position where if Mitzi freaked out, Lease Girl could bail out and leave me to deal with the horse. It didn't turn out to be necessary. Mitzi even let Lease Girl spray up under her belly and her udder.

And then, of course, when we turned her out in the sunshine she found a good dusty spot for a roll. Well, of course she did!

Even so. Good girl!

I was thinking about the Montreal Canadiens facing elimination last night and did not notice anything else going on in the world of sports. So I didn't realize the Kentucky Derby was being run, so I didn't have my annual battle between wanting to watch the beautiful horses and being terrified something was going to go wrong.

One of the girls at the barn told me about Eight Belles. I'm so glad I didn't see her.

I don't have time to say anything more, and maybe I have nothing more to say, but there are certainly worse things for a horse than running around in a field until you're five and then becoming someone's pet. Damn.