I’m so sorry the last two weeks have gotten away from me without a post, as a friend once quoted, “I’ve been busier than a one-legged chicken in a kicking contest!” The good news is, I heard the first Meadowlark,what a lovely sound! And although I hear we are in for the great blizzard of 2016, I am hopeful that a green spring is just around the corner.  Being a veterinarian is AWESOME and HORRIBLE all at the same time.  The miracle of life never gets old.  One of my favorite things is delivering babies in the spring. It’s really AWESOME if they are alive and happy and born between 8-5 on a Monday thru Friday! The HORRIBLE part of being a veterinarian, comes when the phone rings at 5 o’clock and you debate whether the woman on the other end of the line is dramatic or her dog is REALLY that sick.  When she pulls up with her adorable family and their sweet, old black dog can barely ambulate in the clinic, you are instantly humbled. You can feel the sadness.  This dog raised these kids, he followed them on their bike and was there to greet them everyday after school.  He’s protected them from danger and been the only one who’d listen when things weren’t going their way.  You can read the writing on the wall, even so, you carefully examine him from nose to tail. You take your time, not because you’re looking for something because you already know…but because you’re running through the words you’ll say next in your mind.  How can I make it sound better?  What options should I offer?  What you want to say is he’s going to be fine and here’s a bottle of magic pills to make him young again, be sure you give them as directed! BUT, what you need to say, what you HAVE to say is what this woman and her kids don’t want to hear.  After listening to his heart for what probably seems like an eternity to everyone else in the room, you finally have your words and you begin the conversation.  For some the decision is easy, they walk in the door knowing, for others it’s harder to let go.  The tired old black dog with a heart of gold is counting on me to speak for him and so I do.  I make sure that his owners know he doesn’t wear a watch, because he doesn’t know what time it is or what day of the week, he simply knows what he feels right now today.

Times like these call for sage advice.  My Grandpa (Pop’s dad) was born March 27, 1922, served as a Flying Tiger in WWII, and raised 4 kids, based on that I’m pretty sure he meets the qualifications for a sage.  We celebrated his 94th birthday this Easter and he was still the life of the party, he had us all laughing with his stories and jokes.  He’s recently taken up Bingo at what he laughingly calls “the institution”, and he’s been winning!  He won a dog that dances and sings that he often plays off for a real dog until people meet him.  His latest prize, multiple six packs of low sodium V8, is that a prize? Anyway, as we sat around the table we asked him the key to living so long and healthy.  He simply answered this, “just live through today, you never know what tomorrow may throw at you”. Bro Q (who you’ll formally meet later) asked him if he thought he’d live to be 94, “No” he said.  Then of course he asked the logical question to follow, “well how long did you think you’d live?”  Grandpa’s response was priceless, “until the next morning”.

So, next time you’re worrying about what’s next or how you’re going to get through this remember an old sage’s advice, all you have to do is live this moment, “until the next morning”.

Phew! This week was the kind you are glad to have it under your belt because the stories are way more funny from the backside than when you’re living it. I think I’m pretty tough most of the time, but sometimes I mentally defeat myself.  Instead of looking for the good and powering through, I melt.  I had my toughness challenged a few times this week. It sure gives you an appreciation for our ranching forefathers for whom the Powder River chute was magnificent new technology that made their lives so much easier! Them boys and girls are tougher than I ever dreamed of being.

Equipment can make all the difference in this job, so you can imagine my hesitation when Supertech told me we were to “meet the fella in the dirty silver pick-up at the Strip club” and follow him 11 miles down a dirt road to where he had his own chute.  It was manual, but he promised there would be a guy there who could to run it.  The more miles we drove past some places with lots of character, the louder my inner “Uh-oh” rang in my head.  However, when we pulled into a full pen of good horses and a real nice set of corrals, I was able to breathe more deeply.  As quick as the feeling of relief came over me, it left when I viewed his good ole Powder River chute and a branding fire (Supertech failed to mention he was age branding too).  I was set to bangs vaccinate 115 head of heifers with a full schedule after that, this sure took the wind out of my sails.  We jumped out and were kindly greeted by the rancher, his son and his comrade. We set to work and I’ll give it to the man, he was handy with that equipment, but as the clanging of the chute rang in my ears while the heifers squalled and bounced around and we tried to vaccinate, tattoo and tag them, my heart ached for the hydraulic Silencer chute parked at the clinic! Several times when Supertech could see the smoke boiling from my ears while I fought the battle trying not to take a hit and the slobber was stringing down from my cap and across my face, she reminded me this was a job interview, that I looked really tough, and that next time we could “wow them” with our fancy equipment.  We accomplished the mission, and I promised the rancher that next time I would bring my chute and a lawn chair for him to sit in and holler directions.  He seemed to like the offer, guess we’ll see if they call again.

Earlier in the week, we had an incident in the clinic where a lively heifer arrived for a c-section popped her shoulders followed by the rest of herself through my Powder River head catch! The bar hit Coach in the ribs when it popped, while he was catching his wind the rest of us fled behind doors and curtains and on top of chutes. Except for me, I stood at the sliding door in front of the head catch that leads to wide open spaces.  My hand was placed ready to slide that baby open, but I knew I’d have to beat her to the gate and close it or she’d be loose on Highway 20-26.  Here she came straight for me, I had nowhere to go and it was the moment of truth! I stood my ground, she bounced me against the door with her head and pivoted on top of my foot before she took off around the stocks.  As she made her second lap around, Gunner swung the gate open and Coach lured her like el Matador toward the light, it worked, she ran out the door!  Woohoo! BUT we had to get her back in… the calf was tail first, I worked on her for over an hour, with Gunner’s help, we finally got the calf pulled and as we stood back to catch our breath. She prolapsed her entire uterus!  After we patched that up we loaded her in the trailer and waved good bye, or maybe it was good riddance!

I think the old timers probably talk about how us youngin’s are a bit soft with our hydraulic chutes, ATVs, and aluminum stock trailers, and that’s okay!  I have a great appreciation and respect for them and their hard work, they’ve earned their stripes.  On the other hand, I like being spoiled, and between you, me and Dr. Temple Grandin, the cows like it too! 🙂

In other news…

• The Mountain Man, the Wild Women and I did the first c-section in our barn before school one day.
• Maw & Pop were here for a few days.  I was really missing them, so I was glad to have the desert rats around again. They flew south again, but I don’t imagine Pop will be able to keep Maw in the desert much longer, as soon as the first meadowlark sings she’ll be homesick and itching to get in her garden.

• We are working on grafting a calf on heifer #412.  She had a blind calf, so we did a swap (pastures with creeks and ponds are no place for a blind baby).  So “Baby Ray” went to live with a milk cow and we adopted “Feisty Louise” to replace her.  #412 has been a little hesistant to say the least, but as long as you lure her in the head catch with cake and feed her while Feisty gets breakfast she doesn’t seem to mind.

 

 

I have given my friends and family blog names to protect the innocent and frame the guilty (none of them are innocent 🙂  ) So much happens in a week it’s hard to know what to share, so I’ll try to touch base mid-week and do some introductions of the characters in my life and perhaps an update on any happenings.

Until then, Happy trails! #wyovetwoman