I recently saw a catalog advertising rope-style horse halters made from glow-in-the-dark rope. No kidding. According to the ad, the rope is white in the daylight, then glows bright fluorescent green in the dark.
Having owned more than my fair share of dark brown horses, I can see the appeal.
Horses can't contain themselves in the daylight — they have to run away from you just to hear you cuss, or run to you to frisk you for treats (or possible treats, or the essence of the scent of treats); or they have to loudly clear their noses, splattering you with snot from 20 feet away. But those same horses at night will stand perfectly still and quiet in the dark until you run into them.
It's heart stopping.
And I'm thinking those glow-in-the-dark horse locaters could save my life.
However, I've also been having trouble imagining a scenario in which my brown horse Xena, Warrior Cheerleader, survives her initial confusion of horror as she discovers that her head is encased in a dayglo rope trap.
"I think my face is glowing," she'd say as daylight faded to dark. "Is my face glowing? Is it?! It is — isn't it! My face — oh, sweet Pegasus! I can't get it off my face! Get it off me!! Get it off! Getitoffgetitoaaaaaahh ... !!!" (as she disappeared into the dark at a high rate of panic).
Her paint pony friend Charlie, of course, wouldn't bother with any reaction other than an obvious display of disgust for making her wear stupid stuff. She doesn't need or want any trendy bling making her look all civilized and fresh from a stall. She is, by nature and by nurture, an "au natural" type girl with a wild child paint scheme. No added flash required.
Two-year-old Tazz, on the other hand, would love it.
He'd make himself cross-eyed trying to stare at his own face ... and then partially dislocate his lips trying to get a hold of the glimmery thingy. (Because nothing says "yes, this strange do-hickey is totally awesome" like wadding it up and stuffing it into your mouth where you can chew it ragged and slobber it up good and gooey.)
In the end, though, the pony would kick the beejeepers out of Tazz because 1) Xena wouldn't be there to get all up in charge of her young boy-toy, and 2) he wouldn't stop annoying her by saying things like "Dude, look! I'm a black-light party trick. Duude, look. I can write my name with it like a sparkler! Only glowier. Du-hude, whoa! I feel like, toe-tally electric aaalll over my bawdy!"
Meanwhile, back at the stampede, the Warrior Cheerleader's only hope would be that she's racing headlong toward sunrise.
(And that's pretty well true for us all. Head toward the light at http://viewnorth40.wordpress.com.)