I need a syringe full of ketamine to survive a visit to the vet

The vet arrived at the stable yard wearing his customary grin. He is the happiest man I know. Of course he is. As he once explained to me, horses may be incredibly badly designed for the purposes of the horse-owner, but they are spectacularly well designed for the purposes of equine veterinary practices.

‘Don’t you dare look smug,’ I told him, as he whistled his way into the thoroughbred filly’s stable. ‘If this is bad, you’d better get a syringe full of sedative ready for me because I am going to go nuts.’

‘Ha haaa!’ he laughed, ecstatically.

‘I’m serious. I want ketamine.’

‘Ha haaa! Good one, Mel!’ He sounded like he had already had some. ‘Let’s have a look at this leg then,’ he chirped, examining the strange bump that had come up on one of her hind legs. ‘Oh yes, that’s a splint all right. Probably sequestered.’

‘You know I have no idea what that means, don’t you?’

‘Yup,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.