
A recent conversation in an editorial meeting sent me down a rabbit hole regarding veterinarian adventures.
If you grew up on a farm, you just know. Attitudes are different on the farm. Farmers and their kids have lived out their lives with livestock, pets and 4-H projects. They know about the cycle of life and there are often disruptions.
As a kid, I wanted to be a veterinarian, that is until I realized there might be some difficult things to handle in that profession. I don’t mind the gross as long as I don’t have to watch suffering. I would have made a great pathologist.
I did quite well when we had to dehorn cattle and brand them. Giving medication to a steer wasn’t a problem, however watching livestock suffer before having to put them down set me back pretty good.
Every winter, the wool growers would herd their sheep down from the mountains to the valley where we farmed. We’d put them on our alfalfa ground or the fields where we had winter cover.
Occasionally the sheep ranchers would give us an orphaned “leppy” lamb or two. Bottle fed lambs are prone to bloat. The simple remedy was to get a hose down into their stomach and relieve the pressure.
I could do that with no problem. Grease up the hose and work it down.
The alternative involved a knife and the same hose. It just wasn’t something a 9-year-old me could do.
The real event that put my dream of becoming a vet to bed was when a favorite dog began delivering her first litter of puppies. I had witnessed a lot of births on the farm - pigs, sheep, dogs, cats - I could tell something was wrong by the way she was struggling in a very bad way.
She didn’t survive and I felt some sort of guilt over something I couldn’t control – I was 10. There was no crying or extended depression, I just felt bad.
Mom looked at me and said, “So, I guess the vet thing is over?” I nodded, yes.
There is a whole other kind of grit that goes into nursing a horse. We doctored one of my mom’s mares out of a scary injury, the whole time wondering if we’d have to put the horse down. I ground my teeth each time we had to dress the wound, knowing how essential it was that we make sure she didn’t injure herself more.
Being present another time that a horse had to be put down and seeing the distress in the animal until it was finally out of its suffering reaffirmed me in my current vocation.
I have a cousin with a ranching background who is a good vet. I am so glad she can do what I couldn’t.
Needless to say, I’m thankful for the vets that tend my pack.
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