Not for the faint-hearted…

Here ’tis – the answer to the poser put in this post.

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It has to do with this guy…

But first a little background information.

Mr Incredible does a lot of riding – it’s kind of a major part of his job description here.  And he loves it.  Thank goodness.

One of the horses he rides the most is a gelding called Cherokee.  This little chestnut was broken in by my cousin, Dan.  Dan is a wonderful bloke, and has spent some time in America on a horse ranch, an influence which has left a mark on him.  I have caught him out calling a mob of steers, a ‘bunch of cattle’ and he loves his cutting. (For non-horsey people, ‘cutting’ has nothing to do with sharp instruments and all to do with a sport involving quarter horses with flying manes and heavily-fringed chaps).  Dan’s wife is half-American too (you know what I mean EJ!) so the American Indian name of this young gelding should come as no surprise really.

For a while, my hubby struggled with this new high-spirited steed.  He’s not as big as Trooper (who is almost 17 hands and suits Mr I who at 6 foot 2 is taller than your average horseman).  Cherokee also snorts a lot.  And goes like the wind.  On occasion, when that pace was not what Mr I really intended.  Little things like that have not endeared him enormously.  But one thing was always certain – this horse had ‘heart’.  He could go all day long. Flat out. Like a little marathon runner.

‘He was hard and tough and wiry, just the sort that won’t say die…’

Mr I would come home from mustering, with stories about the stamina of this horse.  And his fearlessness.  Not only willing to take on rough and steep terrain without a blink, but also completely unafraid of cranky cattle.  (Which surprised me – he is the bottom of the ‘peck order’ here at the house with the other horses.  Always last to get his feed, always waiting away from the others so he doesn’t get belted up.) But once he has a rider on his back, he seems to switch personality.  He becomes Braveheart.  Mel Gibson in warpaint.  He goes ANYWHERE Mr I points him.  Regardless.  Bulls have actually charged and LIFTED HIM OFF THE GROUND and he has not backed down.  And he has gradually won my hubby’s heart.

Not only is he brave and tough, but he is starting to really ‘watch’ cattle.  This means that when it comes time to seperate a beast (steer/cow/bull) from the mob, he anticipates where he needs to be.  He stalks them.  Shadows their moves, blocking them from rejoining the mob.  And most importantly, he is beginning to hold back when he is asked.  These skills are vital in his job, making him more than just a ‘mustering horse’.

In fact, I cannot begin to think why I have not blogged about him before?  (Too busy writing whingy posts about how busy I am.  Heh.)

Anyway, in the last few weeks, we have noticed one of his eyes has been getting ‘cloudy’.  We thought it was a grass seed initially, and treated it as such.  But no seed was ever found.  And his eye continued to weep and get more cloudy.  Finally we called in a vet, who inspected him and pronounced that Cherokee had a carcinoma on his eye.  We were a bit gob-smacked. He is only four years old.  And just beginning to be the horse we know he can be.  So we made the decision to allow the vet to surgically remove the slow-growing growth.

This is no easy op though – as the following set of images show.

(WARNING: graphic photos ahead.  If you get queasy easy, you might want to fast-forward to the end!)

The vet gives our noble steed enough of the good stuff to knock him out… (note Lacey in the background still rugged up and keeping a safe distance from the action).

In the spirit of conservative reality shows (is there such a thing?) I have created a red star modesty patch for our patient.  It’s in his contract.  Notice Dash and Violet looking intensely interested in proceedings, as Cherokee’s eye  is prepared for surgery. Salina starting to look a little less intrigued.

Something to do with this..

A very red eyeball…

And stainless steel instruments…

Dash’s expression  starts to look a little like Salina’s as the vet gets serious… Oh dear… that sensitive gag reflex (a hangover from this event/time in his life)  starts to kick in.

Violet however was unmoved by the cutting.  Once she was reassured that Cherokee wasn’t actually dead, but just ‘asleep’.  She is definitely my daughter.  A little gore never hurt anyone.  (Well, not the onlooker anyway).

A few minutes later (and a few more shots of sleep juice for our gallant gelding – who is apparently a VERY expensive drunk)…

And THIS was what was scraped off his eyeball (look familiar?)

All done.  Now for the slow wake-up… except..

This boy doesn’t DO slow.  He has two gears – ‘knocked out’ and ‘going’ – and nothing in between!  (I love how our vet hangs onto him like a rodeo star – she’s a bit ‘Man from Snowy River’ herself!)

One very drunk horse (being held up by one very concerned Mr Incredible).

It wasn’t long though before the drunken staggers subsided enough for us to put Cherokee in the houseyard (special treatment) with a sheaf of lucerne hay and and fly veil to protect his operated-on eye.

He was a bit skittish but soon settled into his new ‘look’.

Cool shades, man.

Look, it’s been a tough morning.  And I’m a movie star and all now.

I’ll do autographs later, ‘kay?

‘Kay.

I promise to blog the progress of this particular character.  The new reality star of Granite Glen.  Let’s hope his ego stays in check.