Never Turn Your Back on an Angus Cow

by Dr. Jan Pol

  Charles would be the first one to admit that he’s always been a bit clumsy, so it doesn’t surprise any of us to see him get himself in tough situations. There are people who believe that some of those situations are planned or scripted. Nope—maybe he pushes things just a little, but there has never been any attempt to create a problem. When we started filming the show, they told me, “Be normal; don’t try to do anything special; try to forget the camera is there.” Well, you never forget that it’s there—there’s a whole bunch of people following me around—but what happens is that eventually you take it for granted. Only once was there even a suggestion that maybe Charles and I should get into it a little, and I said no. I make fun of Charles, Charles makes fun of me, sometimes we laugh at each other, but we don’t fight and we never did. I think what becomes evident is the love we have for each other, even when he’s messing up. Again. But we did come very close this one time.

  Diane and I had gone to the Netherlands and left the kids in charge. There could have been a very good subtitle for this one: “Every Parent’s Nightmare.” Oh my gosh, everything went wrong, and when they called us and happened to mention that somehow the gates had been left open and all the horses had got loose, believe me I was very thankful there was an ocean between us.

  People ask me, “Did that really happen?” Better they should ask Diane, who was with me when I heard about it.

  But what the show has done is brought Charles and me much closer together as adults. I think for the first time we both realize how alike we are. And for the first time we really appreciate each other. Charles used to take every opportunity to not be with me—he never wanted to go out on farm calls; he wanted to be home watching TV or playing movies. As far as he was concerned, riding with me was a punishment, and sometimes he would just sit there and sulk.

  Charles and I have talked about how this show has changed our relationship, and the way he described it is, “When you’re young, you can’t wait to get out of the house. You can’t wait to get away to magical places like Los Angeles. My dreams led me out there, but a piece of me always stayed home. It always missed the small-town atmosphere. I still get bored sometimes, but I’m thankful that I’ve been able to come home and spend a lot of time here.”

  What also has been really surprising and enjoyable is the fact that all of us are recognized by people who have seen the show. The show is broadcast in twenty-six countries. At first it was just in Mount Pleasant that people would stop us; Diane and I would go into a store and somebody we didn’t know would mention to us that they had seen the show and enjoyed it. I think most of our neighbors were pleased that the show was doing a very fair job representing the values of our area and, more important, presenting the small farmer in a positive way. Honestly, that would have been enough for me; I think everyone wants to have the respect of his neighbors. Now we get messages and e-mails from all over the world, from Indonesia, South Africa, Thailand—whoever thought people in Thailand would be interested in cows in Weidman, Michigan? I even heard from my high school math teacher in the Netherlands, who wrote that he remembered me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Dr. Sandra got a wedding proposal from someone who watches the show in Ecuador, who thought he would be a very good match for her. But she was already engaged, so she turned him down.

  In the fall of 2013 Diane and I went for vacation to a small resort in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Within an hour after we got there, a man came up to me and asked, “Aren’t you that veterinarian?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “You’re Dr. Pol, right?”

  Next thing, another person was showing all of us the Chinese version of our show on his cell phone—and there I was, speaking Mandarin. I never even knew there was a translation for “golly” in Mandarin.

  More and more, Diane and I, and also Charles and Dr. Brenda and Dr. Sandra and everyone in the office, have gotten recognized. People just want to shake our hands or ask for an autograph. There have been so many moments that I never could have dreamed would have happened. It’s not like I’m a Real Housewife of Mount Pleasant. We’re just a rural vet clinic. Several people have actually put meeting us on their bucket list. In 2013 we got a call from the companion of a seventy-eight-year-old Dutch woman who was dying of lung cancer. They lived several hours away, but the companion wanted to surprise her friend with this visit. She waited until the woman was strong enough to make the trip; then started driving, without telling her friend where they were going. As soon as they saw the sign for Weidman, the woman knew, though. The two of them sat on our couch for more than an hour, meeting everybody: Charles and Dr. Brenda, all the people in the office. We spoke mostly in Dutch. She was on oxygen, but there was such a brightness in her eyes. Being able to bring happiness to another person that easily is an unforgettable experience. It reminds me of the impact the show has on people, young people as well as adults. We get so many letters from young people who write to tell us that they never miss the show and when they are older they want to work with animals like we do.

  Diane and I are both very happy that this has happened to us later in life. It’s a lot of fun and it’s certainly ego boosting when people tell me how much they enjoy watching me do my job, but by now we’re very well grounded. Our values are pretty strong. Years ago we learned what things make a difference in our lives, and those things aren’t going to change at all.

  Not only do people recognize us; they often ask us questions about their animals. We literally get calls from people all over the country asking our advice. Legally, I’m not allowed to diagnose animals over the phone, and I wouldn’t do it anyway; but what I will do is make some basic suggestions as well as recommend good local vets. Diane almost always speaks to those people and generally gives them commonsense advice. “My dog’s got diarrhea—what should I do about it?” “My cat swallowed some chocolate—is that going to hurt him?” There are people who just want someone to talk to, and Diane just can’t help talking to them. When they meet Charles, they ask him the same types of questions and Charles has a pretty good answer for most of them: “I’m not a vet, so I’m not qualified to answer that, but that sounds like it could be serious and you should take the animal to a vet.” Actually, when we started filming the show, the crew depended on Charles’s ability to explain in laymen’s terms exactly what was going on. I think it surprised him, and I know it surprised me, to find out how much knowledge he had picked up through the years.

  Naturally the vets on the show are the people who get most of the questions, and if we can help, we do. But every animal is different and we would never want to take the risk of diagnosing an animal we haven’t examined personally. Similar symptoms can have very different causes, and without seeing and touching an animal, it’s often impossible to make the correct diagnosis—and in some cases the wrong diagnosis could lead to terrible results.

  There are people who have learned about us by watching the show and have made long drives with their animals to see us. Not too long after the show went on the air, I got a call from a young man who had an eighteen-year-old Australian shepherd, a nice little dog. He had been working in the field and caught the dog chewing on a porcupine. Naturally the dog got countless quills in his mouth. His local vet wanted to do blood work and other tests, estimating the bill at $700. “I don’t have that kind of money,” he told that vet. “I’m gonna have to shoot my dog.” The vet apologized but told him there was nothing he could do. That young man had watched the show and called to see if we could help him. Well, I certainly didn’t want him to shoot his dog. “It’d be nice if you could afford to do the blood work,” I told him. “There’s things we can’t do without it.” I told him I would use a reversible anesthetic but he would have to sign a paper that he understood and accepted the risks.

  He was happy to sign the paper, he said. It was about five o’clock and he was almost fifty miles away. He walked through the door no more than forty-five minutes
later. “How come you didn’t get a ticket?” I asked him.

  “I know the back roads.”

  I examined the dog and he seemed to be pretty healthy, but dogs that old don’t necessarily tolerate anesthetic so well. We gave him a reversible anesthetic that would not last too long and started pulling quills. And pulling more quills. The dog survived the procedure without any problems, and within thirty minutes the two of them walked out the door. But only one of them was wagging his tail.

  Not everyone likes the show. There have been some complaints about the way I conduct my practice. To be honest, not everyone in the profession likes me. That’s okay; I’m not so crazy about some of the things I hear about other people. Some of these people don’t understand the reality of a small practice like ours. They complain that the standard of care is not up to their standards, that we don’t have the fancy equipment some of the animal hospitals have, and not everything we do is perfectly sterile. That’s nice for them, and for their patients who can afford to pay for that level of care. But after doing this for more than four decades, I can tell you from experience what is the best way to help an animal and its owner. Animals are a lot more resilient than people, and we don’t have all the antibiotic-resistant bacteria in the animal world that you find in the human world. In my practice I always believe I’m treating both the animal and the owner of the animal. I will do everything that the owner wants me to do for the animal, but I can’t do more than what the client wants me to do. And, who knows, just like in any other profession, there are people who aren’t particularly happy to see someone else be successful. I think probably the best way of judging what we do at Pol Veterinary Services is to look at the fact that we’ve had so many of our clients for so many years and they keep asking us to come back.

  The area in which we live, the way we practice medicine, and the business itself have changed drastically since Diane and I opened up in our garage. It’s been very sad to watch the old family farms that once took up every foot along the dirt roads disappear, to be replaced most of the time by corporate farms. That’s an important part of America that has faded away and isn’t coming back. But that corporate influence is present in the small-animal clinics too, as large chains are buying up small practices and forming groups—and for them, profits are the only goal that seems to matter. In addition, a lot of the drugs and supplies that once could be bought only from vets can now be bought in the giant pet stores or purchased online for considerably less money. While that is great for the client, it isn’t so good for the vet. In Harbor Beach a pretty high percentage of profits came from selling drugs; that’s not true anymore. Rather than selling products, we really are selling our services.

  On the other hand, I’ve always felt the measure of a human being is how he or she treats other people—and animals. After all these years, it is clear that what animals want is to be treated decently, with some degree of respect, and when you do that, they will treat you well. Most animals, by nature, willingly will give whatever they have, from their strength to their loyalty, as long as they are not abused. And it is gratifying to me to be able to say that it is my experience that so many young people—our future—seem to understand this and take care of their animals with compassion, good sense, and respect.

  I’m not really a collector of stuff, but for many years I have collected old veterinary books, and sometimes I just like to browse through them to see how vets treated animals as many as 150 years ago. It never ceases to amaze me how much those early vets could do with such simple tools. And when I do look at these books, there is one thing that seems to come through clearly to me: how much these men have in common with me and almost all the other vets I know. We may not always get along so well, we may not always agree on the best way to treat an animal—but the compassion seems to be just as intense today as it was much more than a century ago. This is a profession that people just don’t go into unless they care about animals. It’s not a profession you go into to make your fortune; that isn’t going to happen. It’s not a profession you go into to earn the gratitude of your patients; believe me, I’ve had cows kick at me the next time I saw them after saving their lives. And it’s not a profession anybody goes into because of the prestige or the comfort; believe me, I’ve spent a lot more time lying in the mud with my shirt off on freezing-cold or sweltering-hot days with my hand inside an animal than I have in the air-conditioned clinic. So the question is, Why do people become vets?

  I became a vet because it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. Obviously, no animal has ever paid me one penny for the work I’ve done. In fact, the animals I treat may know my scent, but they sure don’t know my name. What they have given me, though, is the most incredible satisfaction imaginable. And I am still thankful for that every single day.

  This was my family’s house in the Netherlands. It was here where my father taught me the simple values of honesty, hard work, and respect for all living things that have made all the difference in my life.

  I learned how to be a large-animal vet working for Dr. Arnold Hentschl in Harbor Beach, Michigan. It was here I learned to treat the two patients in every case: the animal and its owner.

  The staff of Pol Veterinary Services in 1995. From back left to right: Diane Pol, Andrea Warner-Matta, Jan Pol, Diane Pol Jr., Dr. Kurt Kiesling, Dr. Ray Viele, Malissa Miller, Barb Van Raalte, and Dr. Brenda Grettenberger. I’m happy to say that Dr. Brenda and Malissa still work with us, and I still didn’t have hair back then!

  This is the staff of Pol Veterinary Services, taken in 2010, along with the crew from National Geographic responsible for making our TV show. A lot of people didn’t think a TV program about a farm vet would be popular—and I was the first one to think that. But the love for animals shared by the staff, the crew, and all of our viewers has made the show more popular than anyone could have imagined.

  © National Geographic Channels

  This 1997 photo of my associate, Dr. Ashley LaRoche, and me was taken after we’d struggled to deliver a Percheron foal. The animal unfortunately was dead and needed to be cut out of its mother.

  Working with large animals often requires the assistance of several people. In this picture, Dr. Ashley LaRoche and I are fixing a hernia in a Belgian colt. While sometimes this work requires a lot of muscle, other times we need to be able to work in very small areas that require dexterity.

  Yes, that is what you think it is: a two-headed calf that I delivered at a local dairy farm. This was the second two-headed calf I have delivered, and unfortunately, neither one could live. Just when I think I have seen everything during my long career, I get surprised by something different.

  There are different methods of castrating a horse, as I’m doing with this Belgian yearling. Some vets do it while the horse is standing, and that’s fine, but this is the way I learned to do it. While people think it must be painful for the animal, it’s only minor. If it hurt, the animal would let you know it. Usually the animal is up and walking within a few minutes, and afterward it is a lot calmer and easier for the owner to handle.

  I do have a special love for my horses. When one of my clients had a Belgian mare that was being overly aggressive with her colts, I put the colt in the front seat of my station wagon and drove it home. We raised it for three months, until it could protect itself, and then the farmer took it back.

  Among the many pets we’ve had are dogs, peacocks, and sheep—and always horses. Always. I imported these two Friesian mares from the Netherlands. Friesians are big and strong and smart animals that tolerate people very well!

  This is me at a goat seminar teaching how to dehorn a goat. While goats are generally pretty friendly, they can use their sharpened horns as a dangerous weapon, so we cut them off when the animals are young. They don’t miss them.

  I’ve spent a good portion of my life with my arm inside an animal’s butt. It sounds a lot worse than it actually is, and it is absolutely necessary to m
ake a variety of diagnoses. In this picture, I’m checking a sick cow for hardware, although Charles standing in the background looks like he might be the uncomfortable one. When I offered the members of the film crew the chance to do it, some of them jumped at the opportunity—while others jumped in the other direction.

  Photograph courtesy of Ian Frazier

  If cats are so curious, why is it that dogs keep getting facefuls of porcupine quills? We have to pull the sharp quills out one by one, and it’s painful for the dog. But they don’t learn, and sometimes we see the same dogs back again with more quills.

  Photograph courtesy of Werner R. Slocum

  When we opened the practice, we treated mostly large animals. But the farming industry has changed, and now we treat more small animals in the clinic than farm animals. This little cat broke its leg and I had to set it. Almost without exception we’ve treated every type of pet imaginable.

  Photograph courtesy of Werner R. Slocum

  Many of my clients are too big to come to see me, so I have to make a farm call. Every large-animal vet carries his office with him in the back of his vehicle. Through the years we’ve driven through every type of weather, always communicating with Diane in the office on the intercom radio so we know where to go next.