Horse Power

After a long day at the office its not the best homecoming to find that one of the militia has phoned to say that our very own pocket rocket is on the farthest reaches of the ridge bothering his ponies. So began an epic trek across the border to locate our testosterone charged monster who was eagerly trying to spread his genes with numerous brood mares. The fact that he would need a step ladder was not a concern for the beast and when I found him he was in hot pursuit of an innocent filly.

At this point we were around two miles from rock hq, but as the evil grinning equine chased after her, she obliged by moving in the general direction of home, as in my home not hers. Several times she tried to quell his ardour with a well aimed kick but he persisted, her hard to get antics seemed to increase his libido.

I hardly got within 20 yards of him, he eager to remain free range kept her between me and him, and after a couple of hours with darkness not far away I was at the point of giving up when he spotted a small herd of mares and with a loud whinny shot off across the ridge to join them. I was now convinced that the only way I was going to get this sex maniac back was by using artillery but dutifully trudged after him, he now a speck in the distance. This was where I got a lucky break, the mares who were now the object of his desires tried to kick his head in and so he ran round them allowing yours truly a chance to catch up and tackle him. It became a bit of a blur at this point as the pocket rocket objected to my intervention and bit/kicked/tried to run off but I manfully hung on (the prospect of another two hours stalking the wretch was too much to bear and added to my resolve to do a star trek (Klingon))finally getting a head collar on him and a lead rein around his neck. Thus began a battle of wills which would have been easier had I not had to get him over this (see below) to get home.

Once over the last hurdle, the bonsai mountain, Trevor was dragged into the yard where my beautiful and oh so patient wife suggested I put him in the "garden". As this would have been like putting a Bengal Tiger in a paper bag and expecting it to be contained I hung on while Misty was evicted from the stable where she was saying goodbye to her dead foal (May passed away at 3am, a big thank you to the vets who fought so hard to save such a lovely girl) and the mentalist shitland was finally incarcerated. He did try and jump over the stable door which meant the top had to be closed. Now in maximum security he will stay there until the vet comes and removes a couple of items which will no doubt calm him down.