I would prefer not to

It was bath day for Max today and he was not impressed. He tucked in his bum in like a dog when cold water touched his grubby tail, he scampered and danced around the hose like it was a wild, spitting snake, despite the fact that the pressure was gentle, I was moving very slowly, and he was getting click treated the whole way through.

We stopped for a few breaks to let him drink from the hose (he does enjoy that bit) and I let him grab it away from me once and give me a spray back just for the sake of fairness.

I explained that he was dusty and grubby, and if we removed some of the grease (from his fly spray) and dirt, he might be a little less attractive to the biting insects, but none of this moved Max.

"I don't like it, I don't need it, I don't want it. Cease and desist!"

I hope we managed to rinse all the suds off, but with was like trying to rinse quick silver as he kept skipping away from me, and I really didn't want him to get any more wound up than he already was.

"Call the authorities! I'm being oppressed!"

Eventually I squeegeed him dry, rubbed him down, and then took him to his field, fresh as a daisy.

We wandered around together a bit, and then Max stopped at a patch of dirt, looking thoughtful.

"Go find the grass, Max" I advised.

"Hmm... but this looks...interesting." He pawed at it and kicked up a cloud of dust.

"Max, don't."

"It sure looks... Inviting! Wouldn't you say?"

"Max, really, don't."

"Oh, yes! I think I will!" and down he went for a roll, covering himself in dust and grime, which clung to his still damp body like mud.

Heaved himself up, gave a mighty shake, and then wandered away from me with a snort. Always gets the last word, that horse.