Vet on the Loose Read Free

added, but not looking too worried about the prospect.
    The horse in question was a magnificent-looking chestnut gelding. The buyer, Linda, stood by, waiting anxiously for the verdict.
    ‘There’d have to be lot wrong with that lad to justify failing him,’ said Finbar, quietly admiring him.
    With my limited experience of horses, I was a bit concerned when Finbar asked me to take the gelding out of his stable, but, like a true gentleman, the horse lowered his head for me to clip on a lead rope, having first given me a good quizzical sniff.
    I watched in silent fascination as, having checked the eyes and chest, Finbar concentrated on examining each leg in turn, spending what seemed like an age poking and prodding at all the bumps and lumps that made up what I supposed was a normal limb.
    After examining each leg, he would hold it up off the ground, fully flexed, for a couple of minutes and then ask me to trot the horse to the top of the yard and back again, to see if he was still sound. Even with my non-existent knowledge, I couldn’t fail to notice the free-flowing movement of the animal as he trotted off each time.
    Henry, as the horse was known, was then turned and backed and circled in what seemed like an endless series of tests that he obviously passed with flying colours.
    ‘Now, just to lunge him,’ said Finbar to Linda, and I was thankful when she took him from me and clipped on the long lunge-line. My only previous attempt at lunging a horse had ended up with me tied up in knots before the horse even broke into a trot.
    Henry started off friskily enough, happily cantering around in large circles. Soon, however, he started to get bored with the game and frequently slowed down until Linda flicked a long whip at him.
    ‘You go in and chase him on,’ said Finbar to me. ‘Keep him going.’
    Off I went, enthusiastically running after the horse, waving my arms to keep him going; happy to be doing something useful. He perked up a bit and cantered on with a renewed burst of enthusiasm – but only for a few seconds. Soon I had to chase him again. I found that by standing in the one spot, I could whoosh him on as he came around each time, which was enough to keep him going until the next lap – but soon he got wise to that too and lapsed into a walk halfway around the circle. There was nothing for it but to follow after him, although he kept getting ahead of me and almost appeared to be enjoying what must have looked like a game of tag. Each time I fell behind, he slowed down again until I caught up with him and then he cantered on.
    ‘Just a few more laps!’ Finbar called out encouragingly. ‘I need to hear his wind when he’s going at a steady canter.’
    Round and round I ran after him, as my breathing became deeper and my stomach began to lurch for the second time that day. Much more quickly than the horse, I began to tire. Soon I was only trotting half-heartedly after him and was relieved to hear Finbar eventually call out to Linda to pull him up.
    I sank gratefully against the field gate, trying to catch my breath until I saw that now, Henry was off again, this time in the opposite direction.
    ‘Just keep him going for a couple of minutes and we’ll be finished.’
    After two laps, I couldn’t keep up with him and by the third it looked as though Henry was chasing me. When I could feel him snorting over my left shoulder, I gave up.
    While Finbar carried on with the examination, I sank to the ground, frantically trying to catch my breath and wondering how I was meant to hear the horse’s wind over the sound of my own desperate rasping.
    Thankfully, it took a while before Finbar had filled in the certificate and wished Linda luck with her new venture. He chose not to notice as I lay slumped over a round bale of hay, waiting for the agonising pains that wracked my chest to die down.
    By the time he was ready to go, I had just about recovered sufficiently to drag myself into the car.
    I was relieved when