"Take it easy now, Jim! You know she's not very fond of you; we don't want to get her all riled up for Dr. Perrin."
"She's not riled up!" Jim retorted tersely. "And how the hell do you know that she doesn't like me?"
Rosie sauntered into the barn and up to the stanchion closest to the wall. Looking for grain, she sniffed the manger. When she found none, she retreated a step and turned to look at us.
"Up you get, Rosie," Jim muttered. Walking up behind the little cow, he gave her a firm pat on the back of her leg. Rosie stepped forward out of the gutter, then turned her head to see if he was bringing her the grain. Jim filled a coffee can with dairy ration and sprinkled it into the manger. As soon as she moved forward, he locked the stanchion. Rosie appeared totally unconcerned about being locked in; her long tongue lapped greedily at the grain.
Jim shook his head in disgust. "Not a damned thing wrong with this bloody cow." Grabbing a square-mouthed shovel, he scraped up the manure and loose straw from the gutter and carried it outside to the manure pile.
Mabel stood by the barn door, glaring at her husband as he returned with the shovel. "She's just not right, I tell you. She was off her milk this morning, and I'm not about to watch my good milk cow go downhill because you're too cheap to get the vet out."
Jim flushed. "I'm goin' to finish loadin' my hay." He turned on his heel and stomped out the door.
"He's so used to looking after his beef cows that he just doesn't appreciate how fragile a cow like Rosie can be."
"Well, dairy cows have their differences from beef cows," I agreed. "That's for certain."
With Jim gone, Mabel's expression softened considerably. She smiled and took a couple of steps closer.
"Has Rosie been fresh for long?" I asked. "Do you think there's a chance she was in heat this morning? That can sure knock a cow's production back badly."
"I hope not. She's supposed to be three or four months along in her pregnancy."
"I'm just going to see if I can get a urine sample from her." I took an empty syringe case from my pocket. "There's a condition called ketosis that can cause a cow to dramatically cut back on her production similar to what you've described."
Reaching under Rosie's tail, I rubbed my hand up and down in a slightly circular fashion under her vagina. As if on command, she stopped chasing after the remaining few kernels of dairy ration, hunched her back, and produced a river of clear, yellow urine. I waited for a moment, then caught a sample mid-flow.
"My, but you're good with those fingers," Mabel purred, smiling seductively.
I flushed as a wave of panic rushed through my body. Pretending not to have heard her comment, I took out a ketone test tablet and set it on the top rail of the stall. Pouring the urine over the tablet, I peered at it intently. I could tell the test was negative almost immediately, but was reluctant to turn around until my face had lost its crimson hue.
Suddenly, a young boy rushed into the barn and hollered, "Mama, Jimmy's got my bridle and won't give it back!"
"I'm goin' to ride Chief, and I need it!" his brother screamed in his defense.
"Shut up, you two!" Mabel bellowed at them. "Can't you see that I'm busy! The vet's looking at Rosie, so just run along and leave us alone."
"Thank you, Lord," I whispered. The cavalry had arrived!
I pulled out my thermometer and inserted it into Rosie's rectum. Grabbing my stethoscope, I listened intently. I was thankful to be able to lose myself in the rumbling sound of hay scraping along the inside of the rumen. Mabel had almost convinced Jimmy and his brother to run outside to play when I gained the upper hand.
"Do you want to have a listen to this, you guys?" I offered, as Mabel was pushing them out the door.
"Yeah, me first!" yelled the oldest boy, pushing past his mother. I hooked the stethoscope in Jimmy's ears. His eyes lit up as he listened to the gurgling and scraping; he was completely oblivious to the dirty looks that his mother shot in his direction. After his brother had had his turn, I continued my examination. Rosie's chest sounds were normal. I lifted my knee into her abdomen repeatedly but was unable to produce pain at any location.
After I had tweaked their interest, the boys were most intent on watching what I was doing, and I was thankful when they refused to leave. I removed the thermometer.
"She read the book," I volunteered. "Her temperature's 38.5—right on normal."
I palpated her udder and found nothing unusual. Squirting milk from each teat, I filled the wells of my mastitis paddle and added test solution. The milk was perfectly normal and produced a negative test.
Next, I pulled on a palpation sleeve, applied lubricant, and pushed my hand into the cow's rectum. Cleaning manure from her distal colon, I palpated her abdomen. Everything felt completely normal; she was four months pregnant.
"Well," I muttered, peeling off my glove, "I can't see a thing wrong with her. She's indeed pregnant so it's unlikely that she was in heat."
I walked thankfully to the door and pushed it open. Being released from the confines of the barn was a tremendous relief. I hurried through the corral gate and out into the open. I was nearly to the car when Mabel caught up to me.
"What do you suggest we do with her?" she asked, as I deposited my stuff on the seat of the car.
"I'd just keep a close eye on her. If she looks any worse, give me a call and I'll have another look at her. It's not impossible that I missed something, but I don't think so."
"Boy, it's sure going to be nice to be free tonight," she said.
"Pardon me?"
"I'm free tonight! The kids are going to my sister's. Jim's going to Alberta this afternoon and won't be back for two days, and I'm home all by my lonesome."
I felt my ears get hot, and I knew that my face had once again turned beet red.
"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it," I stammered. "When you've got kids around all the time, even one night alone would be a real treat."
I rapidly stuffed myself into the car and started it up. As I pulled out of the yard, I looked back into the disappointed face of Mrs. Stern and returned the waves of the children who came running from the barn to join her.
Back in town, I pondered my close encounter as I waited for my sandwich to arrive. On days like this, when the pressure of dealing with people seemed greater than usual, I liked to escape the office and eat out. It's true that people occasionally asked for free advice when they delivered my food or sat at the next table. Somehow, I never minded that; they didn't try to monopolize my time the way they appeared to when they talked to me across the counter at the office.
I felt somewhat embarrassed about the way I had handled myself at the Sterns' farm this morning. I never was much of a ladies' man, but just thinking about how flushed my face was when Mrs. Stern came on to me made me cringe and glance at the table next to me. I was sure they could see my ears turning red.
"Your sandwich, Dr. Perrin," said the waitress, as she put the plate with my closed Denver down in front of me. Nell was a tall, slim girl with a pleasant face and an easy-going personality. She loved English riding and would frequently camp near me where she could see all her tables and talk about her horse and the ins and outs of training him. Although I usually enjoyed our conversations, today I wanted to be alone.
"Thank you," I mumbled. I looked away from her to avoid a dialogue. She took a few hesitant steps, waiting for me to engage her in conversation. Finally, she drifted off and began refilling sugar containers on the other tables.
I was busy throughout the rest of the afternoon working with a couple of small beef cow operators. It was a treat to be outside on a day like today, doing something I enjoyed and actually getting paid for it. Small producers were often much more fun to work with; they tended to be less concerned about cost and more appreciative of the information I was able to provide. I arrived back just before four and had plenty of time to get cleaned up before seeing Chico.
Gary Renz and his dog arrived right on time—they usually did. The Renze
s were to us what an article in Veterinary Economics had referred to as foundation clients—those who made up fifteen to twenty percent of our client population but sixty-five to seventy percent of our income. It wasn't that they came running in about things that were unimportant, but they rarely ignored something significant, and they always came to me for a solution rather than shopping around or trying to handle it themselves.
Gary and Chico were almost inseparable. Whenever I saw the blue GMC pickup that I had come to recognize as Gary's, I was sure to see the head of his big floppy-eared companion peering out from the passenger seat next to him. Chico was a yellow Lab. Big for his breed, he was one of the friendliest and least inhibited dogs in our practice. Where other dogs would drag their owners to the other side of the street when approaching the veterinary clinic, Chico always bounded through the door as if anxious to come in and say hello.
He made his usual animated entry today. With Gary's arm stretched to its full extent and the chain rattling against the door jamb, the dog lunged into the room. Paying no attention to the choke collar that was restricting his airway, he leapt up on my chest and slurped at my face.
"Chico, for gosh sakes," Gary protested. "Don't you know where you are? He's the only dog I've ever had that just loves to visit the vet. He drags me from the moment we leave the car! The last dog we had in Alberta was terrible; I had to carry him in whenever he had something wrong."
Chico jumped around until he had an opportunity to say hello to everyone. Once he had washed Doris's hands and sniffed at her shoes, he settled down by his master's feet.
"Well, I'm glad that's over with for today. I know you'll find it hard to believe, but he listens about as well as any dog I've ever had except for here—just doesn't make sense to me."
"So I hear you got yourself in trouble with Mom, Chico." His eyes lit up and his tail thumped madly in response to my attention.
"Boy, you want to believe it," Gary winced. "Alvira wasn't the least bit amused. I told her that white was a stupid colour for a carpet, but that's what she always wanted."
"You said you noticed some blood?"
"Alvira had the carpet all cleaned up by the time I got home, but she said there was some blood."
"Have you noticed him dragging his butt on the ground before this incident?"
"Yeah, he's been doing it once in a while when we're out at the park. As a matter of fact, he did it twice yesterday. I was going to call you about having him dewormed."
"Okay, Chico," I muttered, "let's have a look at you."
Chico leapt to his feet and followed me to the examination room, dragging Gary behind him. I gave the dog a few quick pats, then with an arm around his chest and an arm around his hind legs, lifted him onto the table.
"Boy, I'm glad you can do that," Gary chuckled, "because I sure can't lift him!"
I raised Chico's tail and inserted the thermometer. He whined and turned his head, lolling his tongue as if to lick his behind.
"He doesn't like that," Gary observed, with a note of concern in his voice.
"I can see why." I took a closer look at the moist, inflamed area below and to the right of the rectum. "It looks like one of his anal glands is abscessed. He's running a bit of a temperature, too," I noted, holding the thermometer up to the light.
I slipped my hand into a rubber glove and eased my finger into his rectum. Chico sat up on his front end and struggled to get away.
"Sorry Chico, I know that doesn't feel very comfortable."
I explored the anal gland on the left side and expressed a small amount of material from its orifice. On the right, I could feel a large area the size of a walnut that was rock hard and obviously painful to the touch. As I applied a small amount of pressure, a serous bloodtinged liquid oozed from an area just inside the rectum and a watery red material appeared on the surface of the inflamed skin. Chico stood up on the table and strained to get his head around to lick at his rectum.
"Okay, Chico, okay." Doris and Gary were struggling to keep him on the table. "I promise that the worst is over...His right anal gland's badly infected and is forming an abscess. We'll get him started on antibiotics right away and hopefully get things under control. Occasionally, when they don't clear up properly, or when they recur, we have to remove them surgically. For the time being though, I'm going to show you how to apply a hot compress; the first day or two you should have a hood at home just in case he decides to lick his behind."
We were able to remove the hair from around the wound and generally clean up the site. After I showed Gary how to apply the compress and gave Chico an injection of antibiotics, Doris counted out the pills. Gary and his dog headed home.
"I guess that's it, then." I was feeling weary and ready to put my feet up to relax.
"Oh," interrupted Doris, "don't leave yet. You've got another farm call to make."
"What now? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I was looking forward to going home."
"I never had the chance to tell you," Doris countered defensively.
I stood there staring in dumb fixation at the name on the page of the day book.
"Mabel Stern called in, and that cow you looked at is doing very poorly."
"Doris, there's no way on God's green earth that I'm going back out there tonight. You've never seen the like of it! Mabel was coming on to me like you wouldn't believe when I was out there this morning."
"Now, Dave," chimed Doris in her motherly way, "you've been listening to Gordon too much. You'll be thinking that half the women in town are coming on to you soon!"
"Doris, there's no doubting this! I tell you, if her kids hadn't showed up when they did today, I may not have escaped the barn with my clothes on."
"Oh, come on! I never thought Mrs. Stern would be the type to carry on like that."
"Well, she may not have been a few years ago, but she's tied down with kids now, and her husband doesn't strike me as the most romantic fellow in the world."
"You've got a point there."
"Just think about it. Didn't you tell me this morning that she insisted I come out as late as possible tonight? Does that make sense, when it would have been easier for her to have her husband deal with a sick cow? He didn't even hesitate when you called this morning. He said to come right out, didn't he?"
"Well, yes he did. And come to think of it, she was very insistent that you go out there tonight."
"That's because she had the whole thing planned. The last thing she said before I escaped was that her husband was leaving this afternoon for Alberta and that he'd be gone two days."
"Well, I'm sure she's not going to try and put the make on another man when she's got the kids in the house," argued Doris, certain that she had shot a hole in my theory.
"You're right there! That's why she told me that her kids are going to be at her sister's tonight and that she's going to be home all by herself."
"Oh, my!" An impish grin spread over Doris's face. "She had this planned to the last detail."
"The last detail indeed! I feel like a caged animal. It's not that she's unattractive or anything, but I don't need to get mixed up in an affair with a married woman. I've heard of veterinarians getting mired down in those sorts of situations. The last thing I need is for the farmers to worry about me around their wives. It's hard enough to gain their trust as it is."
"Well, what are you going to do then? What if the cow really is sick and you refuse to go out?"
"I don't think there's much chance of that, but you're right; it's not impossible that I missed something."
"Do you want me to call her and tell her you can't make it?"
"No," I returned with a smile. "I'll go, but you come with me."
"Don't be silly. You're not getting me mixed up in the middle of this. Besides, I've got bowling tonight!"
"What time do you have to be at the bowling alley?"
Doris sighed. "Eight o'clock."
"It's time to make a deal. You come and chaperone while I look at the cow, and I
'll spring for Chinese food at Mae's. If that isn't a win-win deal you've never heard one—you get supper and I don't get raped."
"It never said a darn thing about chaperoning on my job description." Doris choked back a laugh. "But I probably better go. This could be interesting!"
Doris had told Mabel Stern that she would try and have me there shortly after five. By the time we got out of the office, it was quarter to six.
"You know, Dave," Doris lectured, "at times you're such a procrastinator. We could have been out of here darned near an hour ago. Your being an hour late isn't going to change things one bit. You wait and see, we'll get out there and the cow will be sick, and you're going to feel like a damned fool for wasting all this time and making such a fuss. Besides that, if you diddle around much longer, I'm not going to have time to go for Chinese food before bowling."
"Yes, Mother," I chortled. "Mothers are always right."
We drove the rest of the way to the Stern farm in silence. Maybe I was making a big issue out of nothing. I was beginning to think that Doris was right and I was imagining the whole thing. If there was any consolation, I had discussed the situation only with Doris and, by this stage in our relationship, I was getting quite used to making a fool of myself in front of her.
I pulled up in front of the house and knocked on the door.
"Doris," I whispered as loud as I dared, "come out here where she can see you."
I motioned frantically for her to get out of the car and looked through the kitchen window for signs of movement.
"Doris, damn it, come out here!" After knocking a second and then a third time, I started to relax, realizing that Mabel wasn't in the house. The act of coming out here and knocking on the door had me scared spitless. What was I expecting, for God's sake? That she'd come flying to the door in the nude? That she'd stick a shepherd's crook through the door and haul me kicking and screaming into the house?
I felt relieved. Mabel must have been with Rosie and, damn it, I must have missed something on that cow. I literally sprang into the car seat.
Don't Turn Your Back in the Barn (Adventures of a Country Vet) Page 12