Sometimes here on the County Island, us horses have what the people call a spa day. Now, I can say with certitude that we did not have spa days back when I was workin at the ranch. Maybe we got wetted down with a sponge and a bucket of water if we was particularly sweat-stained at the end of the day, but most likely we simply got turned loose to curry ourselves by rollin deep in the dirt. And that’s the way a good horse likes it.
On spa day, a horse gets his whiskers shaved, and his tail washed and fluffed up, and his whole entire body hosed down with a hose, which for those ranch horses who ain’t seen a hose, like me before I came to the County Island, a hose is like a big green snake, but instead of venom, it spits water at a horse. And once the horse has been soaked thoroughly with hose water, he gets scrubbed with foul, flowery-scented, foamy white stuff that looks like a pack of rabid coyotes done salivated in a bucket, if you’ll excuse the indelicate imagery, and that substance is called sham poo.
And I finally figured out why it’s called that. Sham is a word I know of, which means somethin that ain’t, more or less. So sham poo, it goes to follow, ain’t poo, which is to say, it’s the opposite of a horse rollin in poo, it’s a horse bein scrubbed clean of poo. And the County Island people seem to think that’s a good thing. Oh, it ain’t really a bad thing, either, but it also ain’t a thing a sane horse would ever volunteer for, when he’s got access to some good rollin dirt. But it gives the County Island people somethin to do, I reckon.
So, today, all of us, me, Coors, and Coors Light, got sham pooed real good. And I wanted to show y’all my most favorite part of spa day and the sham poo process. After the sham pooin, I was “clean,” accordin to people-standards. Our bucket gal proclaimed me to be particularly golden, shiny, and slick.
But a horse with a slick haircoat just don’t feel right. And so, the second she turned me loose, I had to rectify the situation.
And then I rectified it some more. I like to roll on one side, then get up, have a nice ol’ shake, then go back down and roll on my other side.
Once I was good and rectified, y’all can see the result up close right here, on my ranch brand. See all that fine, wet sand stuck to me? I had sand like that stuck to damned near every part of me that a grain of sand could get to. That’s the stuff that scratches a horse’s itch the best, and what makes a sham poo bath on a County Island spa day somethin worth sufferin through.