This article has appeared previously with Equestrian Life. To see what's in our latest issue, please click here.

Does your horse wreck rugs?

By Ally Doumany

A comment from a feeder of carrots...

There is a major issue facing my household today, causing financial stress, endless frustration, and testing the bonds between horse and owner. It is the war on rugs. 

As a loving horse owner I take great pleasure in the glittering coat of a well-rugged equine. My heart bleeds over the tragic summer bleaching of a once-bay-rump, or the sun- induced frosted tips of a once-black-mane. To uphold these beliefs I govern my domain with a strict rugging system, employing the talents of cotton, canvas, satin and wool. Unfortunately for my leadership, my horses take an opposing view. 

Led by the Great Grumpy Gelding (GGG), they have taken it upon themselves to destroy every rug in my possession. They were subtle at first. A broken leg strap here. A poo- jammed clip there. Nothing that wasn't an easy fix on my part. During winter, heavier canvas rugs proved a strong resistance against their tactics, being not so easy to catch on trees or rip with teeth. But one night I made a mistake. I dressed one of the kinder souls in a doona to keep his old bones warm during a polar spell. It didn't last the night. The GGG, enchanted by the pillowy look his paddock-mate had suddenly donned, took chunks out of it, and by morning, their yard was strewn with white fluff. Had I not pulled this fluff out of GGG’s teeth myself, I might have innocently believed a tree to be at fault. But no. The war had begun. 

Does your heart bleed over the tragic summer bleaching of a once-bay-rump, or the sun-induced frosted tips of a once-black-mane?

Now no rug is safe. They discovered the joy of pulling the neck-rug rings, which tears great strips of rug off that they can toss around like fun canvas ribbons. They realised that mesh rugs, when rubbed between rump and tree, are like their own personal massage mitt, despite the tree retaining half of said rug. The pony found that if he pulled at the buckles of someone else's neck rug, it not only got a great reaction from the victim, but broke the rug and crushed my soul too, all in one foul chew. 

As fast as I would buy newer, heavier (more expensive) rugs, they would gleefully frolic through the paddock, with tatters of cotton fluttering behind them like confetti. I would attempt to ambush them when seen chomping at their day-wear, but it was to no avail. Every move I make, they beat me, with a skip in their stride and a coat full of dust. 

Where once, the arrival of a fresh package of rugs, with their smell of un-spoiled cotton and glint of fresh, perfect buckles could make my heart sing, they now only stink of potentially wasted money. Yet have I learned anything? Why do I continue to clothe my 

beasts when clearly they prefer a nudist lifestyle? Because I have a dream. I have a dream that horses and rugs can live together in harmony. Is this futile? Maybe. But a healthy coat looks way too good to give up now.

Ripped rugs, clean horse...or no rugs, dirty horse?

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