The gelding of Morris

The fateful day arrived and I got up early today in order to take Morris on a long walk – two and a half hours return – to tire him out before the two vets arrived for the gelding operation. I took him to the beach at Playa Torres and sat down to explain what the day was going to mean for him, while Morris looked thoughtfully out to sea.

Morris drank a bucket of water and I had a cold beer. I began to feel very guilty about the whole business. I knew we were heading back to an appointment with two vets and a large shiny piece of emasculating equipment, but Morris was just enjoying the beach and the sunshine.

On the way home we were cutting it quite fine on the camino up the hill from the sea, and the vet usually arrives on time (unusual for Spain…) so I was hurrying Morris along. His rather large male bits swayed underneath him for the last time.

The vets arrived exactly on time and we found a shady spot under the fig tree to do the gelding operation. After his two and a half hour walk, Morris was quite exhausted, so the three injections with anaesthetic were so effective that we struggled to keep him on his feet; uprightness being a necessary
attitude when you are being forcibly emasculated.

I hardly dared to watch what was going on, but stayed at the front end to reassure Morris and keep him still. The only time I glanced down to what the two vets were doing, with bloody hands like a scene from Macbeth, I saw a testicle being lobbed into a bucket.

It was all over in an hour. Morris´s mother Rubí watched the whole operation from the other side of the fence and was obviously concerned about what all these people were doing to her foal. And now they have gone, leaving me with Morris´s testicles in a bucket, a load of medication in the fridge for the next few days while he recovers, and that´s it. Morris is a gelding. An unreversible proceedure. The patient has rolled in the dust and is now recovering with a high protein meal.

I don´t know what possessed me this morning to prepare two hard boiled eggs for lunch, to be eaten with a salad. I think I shall just have a tuna sandwich and forget the idea.


About Gareth Thomas

After a mixed career as an aircraft technician, London fringe theatre playwright, Franciscan friar, and secondary school teacher, I find myself looking after the needs of four donkeys in a remote location in the mountains in the Costa Blanca. I like to listen to BBC Radio 4 and the wind in the pine trees. I am writing a comedy about a school in Benidorm. My favourite film of all time is "Jean de Florette". If I had my time again I would not have spent the early 1970s working for Special Branch.
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2 Responses to The gelding of Morris

  1. Kathy says:

    This has obviously affected you more than it has Morris! Just think of his joy when you can let him back in with the girls, including his mum.

  2. Frere Rabit says:

    Hi Kathy,

    Yes, it probably did affect me more than Morris, and he is perhaps quite unaware of what has been done. It felt quite callous to be dumping the plastic rubbish bag in the council bin in Finestrat with poor young Morris´s testicles in it. But what else could I do, enquire about special cremation for removed testicles at the crematorium? Hire a trawler and dispose of them by burial at sea?

    Apart from feeling a certain discomfort after the anaesthetic wore off, indicated by the way he kept flicking his head down towards his undercarriage and kicking with his back legs, he now seems to be back to his usual self. I have to give him anti-inflammatory injections in the neck every day for a week, and there´s a sweet tasting oral medication which he enjoys and licks his lips for a long while after taking it.

    He will be back with the females by the end of the week and he´ll have his social life again. It will be good to see that and I will probably video it for the blog.

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