The San Diego man informed the TSA screener who was about to give him a pat-down, “If you touch my junk, I’ll have you arrested”.
Metro tells me the same thing, but he has no intention of calling a supervisor, he will just take the law into his own hands.
So when asked when the last time I cleaned his sheath was, I said “never”. “I’m not touching his junk.” I let the Vet do it 6-months ago when Metro had his teeth floated.
The vet liked to do the sheath cleaning the same time he floated their teeth, because they are already sedated, and easier to clean.
My mind flashed back to 6 months ago. Metro was still sedated after his dental work was complete. Unable to lift his head, it was resting on the little padded platform the vet uses to work on their teeth.
Putting on his Magnum glove, the vet kneeled down to clean Metro’s “junk”.
He soon found out that the sedative didn’t make it all the way back to the rear legs. Metro soon began to kick out and try to take the vet’s head off with his rear hoof.
Time for another dose of happy juice.
After the second dose, it was time for round two. Unable to lift his head, or his feet, I could see in Metro’s eyes, that if he could, he would be dining on someone’s arm this day.
The most he could muster though, was to violently spin his tail like a helicopter about to lift off.
That’s when I vowed to never do that myself. Let the vet do it, he has insurance.
Pork Chop and Metro have two different views when it comes to sheath cleaning.
Pork Chop looks forward to it. He watches the calendar, checks off the days, and shows up on sheath cleaning day, sporting a bath robe and carrying his Barry White CDs.
Metro despises the act, and anyone who performs it should not be allowed to live. Metro doesn’t roll that way.
So when informed that his sheath cleaning wouldn’t wait until his next dental visit 6-months away, I went to YouTube, and researched do it yourself sheath cleaning.
While I was doing my research, Wendy, always thinking ahead, was increasing my life insurance.
Metro and I have made great progress in coming to terms with Metro’s “don’t touch me spots”, but there was still one area that I have been reluctant to work on him with. But the day of reckoning had come.
Armed with my new-found YouTube knowledge, clean white sock on my hand, and bottle of sheath cleaner, it was time to dive in with both lubed up hands. Wendy was prepared to assist by barking out instructions from 20 feet away.
Cover me…. I’m going in.
They only problem was Metro wasn’t heavily sedated this time.
It went about as well as expected, my horse wanted to kill me. I positioned myself in the safe spot. With Metro tied in the cross-ties, he couldn’t reach me with his teeth and I was positioned far enough forward that he couldn’t reach me with the hind foot, though he tried repeatedly. The act of cleaning wasn’t so bad, and the cooling breeze provided by Metro’s violently spinning tail provided a nice ceiling fan effect.
My only concern was with the strength of the cross-ties holding Metro’s head from reaching around grabbing my body in his teeth, and running up and down the aisle of the barn parading my bloody torso around like a hockey player with the Stanley Cup.
Knowing that Wendy is the type to flee from danger, I knew I could not count on her to save me.
After the cleaning was complete, I spent the next 20 minutes trying to de-sensitize him. I would touch him, wait for him to settle down and retreat.
He did get better with it, but I am not to about to get a bathrobe embroidered with his name on it just yet.