Baby's First Sheath Cleaning

TRIGGER WARNING: If you can’t handle words like penis, dick, smeggy, wang, and schlong; OR if you don’t want to hear about me handling a horse penis you can skip right over this entry and I’ll see you next week.

During the pre purchase exam, Dr. Mark had his little flashlight and he peered up Runkle’s nostrils, into his mouth, around his bunghole, and finally at his sheath. Runkle was a little perturbed about this inspection of his orifices but managed to stay still while realization dawned on me.

“If this goes well, I’ll have to clean his sheath, won’t I,” I stated to those present.

The assistant trainer laughed. “Yup. Is that a dealbreaker?”

“Yes. Cancel the vetting.”

THANKS BUT NO THANKS.

I was only kind of kidding.

I’ve ridden for a long time but every horse I’ve leased long term has been a mare. I’ve managed to navigate my entire riding career without sticking my hand up anyone’s business and the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind that it could change until it was too late.

While grooming Runkle on this particular day I noticed even the outside of his sheath looked cruddy and gross. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last had it cleaned, and I had no idea how he handled it. Experimentally, I poked it, because I am a professional horsewoman and that is how things are done. He didn’t kick me, but he definitely fired a warning shot across my bow.

At least buy me a drink first lady!!

Using the safety of distance, I picked up a sweat scraper and rubbed it all over his body, starting with his shoulder and going over his back and rump and then to his belly. This time when he tried to let me know I was invading his personal space I gave him a quick smack. Sorry buddy, but I paid legal tender for you and supply all the carrots, your personal space is mine.

The second time I rubbed near his sheath he pinned his ears but otherwise didn’t move. I stuffed his face full of cookies for good behavior and continued the exercise on the right side. He was even better. I rubbed the outside of his sheath and he stood pretty well. I decided to take my chances.

Prep the OR for groping.

Armed with warm water, baby oil, and rubber gloves I started scooping out loads of smegma, dead skin and dirt. It was weirdly immensely satisfying and Runkle, bless him, just stood there and let me do it. At one point I had a hand around his dong and he even let me pull it out!!! I could not believe this horse was letting me do this! I try and kick my gynecologist in the face and I’m a human being that can be reasoned with.

My friend from the barn (and experienced sheath cleaner) Hillary helped me dig out the illusive bean which is the piece de resistance of sheath cleaning. This horse let us stick our fingers in the eye of his one eyed snake. And he didn’t care. Now Runkle’s got a squeaky clean love dart that every horse in the barn can be jealous of.

Now with less dirt!

I tried to explain to my non-horsey friends about this because I was so pleased with how great it went. But when you tell a non-horse person about grabbing your horse’s willy and how you were forearm deep in smeggy dead skin you just sound like a crazy, dirty horse molester. So I advise against even trying.

(Author’s Note: I googled ‘euphemisms for penis’ to write this and my favorite one was definitely ‘right honourable member for fuckinghamshire’. ‘Spurt Reynolds’ was a close second.)