Family Jewels

 The look says it all, poor Trevor, the mightiest stallion on the Rock has lost two very precious items courtesy of our favourite vet and nurse. In a very swift operation his ability to terrorise the female population were gone, the nice vet said Trevor was nicely put together (this while holding several bits of horse that were no longer part of the main bit) and it was a shame he wasn't pedigree. I was just glad we had kept him contained long enough to sedate and castrate. (Horse not vet)
Hopefully this will also curtail his desire to shag wheelbarrows, wheelbarrow operators and goats. Time will tell. While the vet was here we were able to scotch rumours that the veterinary practise was planning on opening a new office in our yard. They also checked the stitching on Hetty our mad cow, which was in place and holding her together, which was more than could be said for the stable door keeping Chester from the great outdoors this morning. That was found halfway across the yard in two pieces. Not sure why he did that, neither was he but it was in need of repair before Hetty was put in there ready for the visit by aforesaid veterinary.

Hetty had other ideas about going into a hastily repaired stable, she wanted more of the same that got her in trouble last year and shot off at a trot, Kobe close behind, in search of bull. It is a testimony to how much fitter I am (or desperate) that I not only managed to overtake a high velocity randy cow, but did this by running up the side of the bonsai mountain to head her off at the pass. The sight of yours truly emerging from the gorse bushes on the point of cardiac arrest stopped mental bovine in her tracks and she scampered back to the stable where kind words from my beautiful and oh so patient wife persuaded cow that sanctuary in stable was better than risking wrath of yours truly. Finally pigs were fed, door was repaired, sheep and goats fed, Trevor was where he should be, all was well and all before breakfast. Yours truly could get a quick bacon buttie before heading off for a training day at Red Kite HQ. Or I could have had I not found our very ancient beagle running about the conservatory scattering assorted seedlings with a traumatised quail in his gob.