Vet came and even though Hetty is very friendly she had to be sedated for what was to follow. Being an adult her horns would have to be sawn off under local anesthetic and the nice lady vet assembled a variety of medieval torture implements and a 5kg gas bottle for the task about to be in hand. Hetty being a docile sorts objected to having a hypodermic the thickness of my little finger stuck in her rump steak section (she might be pet status but often a butcher chart superimposes itself on her from my subconscious) and really objected to the cold sedative as it entered her system.
The next hour or so, for her, passed as a blur, for the vet and I it was an exercise in avoiding being crushed, impaled or decorated with her previous dinners as various orifices relaxed. Hetty was tenacious in her intent to stay awake, even with an extra dose of sleeping juice she refused to go down quietly. Eventually she succumbed to the combined effects of the injections and yours truly wrestling her, by her horns, to a position where the vet could perform the first task, the pedicure. Cows feet need trimming. Cows are not partial to this and so are usually contained in a steel crate which unceremoniously rolls cow over, offending lengths of hoof are then removed with sharp implements, cow is reunited with Terra Firma and away she goes. As our budget only stretches to borrowing a sharp knife, the now sleeping cow is taken advantage of and her feet are trimmed. As it was Hetty's feet were in good nick so minimal effort was required.
But it took time. And Hetty used this time to gather her senses and with super bovine effort shrugged off the medication, and me, and with regained mobility prevented further removal of appendages. So she still has her horns. The vet will return with reinforcements and the battle of Little Big Horn will be re-enacted later next month.