Sunday, 13 August 2017

Tough call

We culled Henry today.

I caught him easily,  and fed him scrambled eggs which he gobbled down.   I checked him over, and tested his legs. He couldn't grip.  He tried to stand, but couldn't.  I stroked him while he ate.  I realised that it was better to get it over with, rather than drag it out.  I told himn how much I loved him, what a wonderful boy he was, and how good he had been with his ladies.  I apologised that we didn't have a son to take over from him. 

We both had to do it, because DH only has one operational arm at the mo.  Afterwards, I sobbed like - well, like a girl I suppose.  I sobbed because he was so lovely and I was so sorry.   I cried for Camilla,  who had spent the last week within a few feet of him. I cried because the line was ending.  I cried because culling is such a hard thing to do, even though it's the right thing to do.


My lovely, lovely boy.




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