Today my baby boy Axel was gelded. Can I just say, this little guy is the sweetest, softest, fuzziest, cutest little colt on the planet? I swear if I could fit him on my lap he'd be in the house, on my sofa all winter. He's about 7 months old and is a card-carrying member of the Love Bug club. Yet, I felt no guilt or remorse when the time came to geld him.
My vet came out. I'm really nervous around my equine vet. 1.) I practically idolize him. He is just so awesome with horses and so knowledgeable. 2.) I feel most of the time that I'm a really lousy horse-keeper and he's looking at me thinking, "what.... the.... hell...?" When you add 1 and 2, you get: "Help I'm Talking and I Can't Shut Up" Teresa. It's what I do when I'm nervous and intimidated. I just blab my way out of it. By "out of it" I mean that I confirm to the other party that they want nothing to do with me, ever.
So Andy came out, we knocked poor Axel out, and I stood there holding one of his ropes and blabbing non-stop while Andy reefed each of Axel's teeny tiny testes out and cut them off.
Andy and JJ got everything cleaned up and we were walking out of the round pen and a blob of something fell out of Andy's hand. I should've just picked it up and thrown it away, without saying anything. Even as the words bubbled to the surface and came out of my lips I knew it was a stupid-assed thing to say. This has never, ever, not even once, stopped me before. So I said, "Oops, you dropped a testicle!" and picked it up, shook the snow off it, and handed it to Andy. It's not that he's squeamish or anything, but do I really know him well enough to be talking testicles with him? Even if it is, in terms of ownership, MY testicle?
Not. Ladylike. AT ALL.
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