Max is getting fed up with being watched intently every time he has a wee. I caught him at it again this morning, up on his tiptoes, and I was in there like a shot, hunkered down to see if he was dropping. He wasn't, but again, I was pleased (can't believe I'm typing these words) with the force and flow of his wee. Definitely an improvement.
I went back to the yard after work with some trepidation, as I'd decided that today I really must give him a clean. It's been over a week, and he was getting a little crusty. Thought I might need full body armour, or at least my riding hat just in case he went loopy on me.
Approached his box in readiness. His plastic bucket that contains his cloth, sponge, and boiling water that has been allowed to cool, his smaller container which holds aloe vera gel, and his grooming kit.
We got down to a bit of brushing and hoof picking, and then I popped the lid on his wash container. Max clocked that and immediately turned and walked back to his feed bowl and poked his nose in to indicate a diversion was in order.
Happily, I had come prepared! A chopped apple, a chopped carrot and a handful of ponynuts was ready to distract him as I took my first foray into his post-op nethers clean up.
Max munched happily and I got down to business. You'd have to be me to really appreciate the difference in this situation. I've been cleaning Max's undercarriage, day in/day out, for nearly two years now. Never could I leave him for over a week without my tender ministrations, and sometimes it was a pretty intense chore.
Today was a doddle. Two very quick swipes with a warm, saturated cloth, a slight go at what I first perceived to be a crusty line at the entrance of his sheath (turned out to be a row of stitches! Ouch! Leave it alone, don't touch!) and then some warmed aloe vera gel to soothe and protect, and we were done. He was nowhere near finished his apple/carrot/pony nut treat and I was already done and standing there with an Extra Strong mint in hand as his prize for being a good boy.
So yes, no droppy, but despite that, a vast improvement on the state of Max's boy bits. I have just sent a note to the surgeon to thank him, left a bottle of wine for the YO to thank her for being such a steadying hand and recovery drug monitor, and I am gleeful at the fact that despite the worry, we have turned a corner and the operation I put Max through has to be deemed a success.
The icing on the cake? After all that, I stood outside of Max's box ready to prepare him for his field. Another filthy, rainy, windy day here in Hampshire, and a bit chilly, too.
Do you want your rug, Max?
Emphatic head nod. Like he knows what I'm asking. Even better because he did it in front of an awed audience: "It's like he understands you when you talk to him!"
Then a walk to his field. Field mate hollered, Max felt disinclined to reply. I asked him to approach the horsebox he'd been transported in and touch it. No problem there, touched it twice in case I hadn't been watching carefully the first time.
My Max is back. If you could see the smile on my face!
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