“How many turtles do you have?” I asked.
I picked up Moe to examine him.
On the side of Moe’s shell was a heart and his name in my handwriting.
My new client lifted her sweet little Maltese onto the exam table. ”You’ll have to excuse my gardening hands,” she said.
I gasped. ”You’ll have to excuse MY gardening hands!” I said. We smiled.
(I examined her dog. She was healthy.)
I decided to be a small animal veterinarian when I was nine years old because I liked pets.
My friend Jerry started his veterinary career as a large animal vet. One spring, he preg checked a herd of his friend’s cattle. Not one of them was pregnant. The next day, his friend killed himself. Jerry has practiced only small animal medicine ever since.
A Story from Joy the Puppy’s Younger Days…
Our 10-year-old neighbor Jacob asked me if I knew what our puppy’s breed was yet.
“No,” I said.
“You need to go to the vet and get one of those blood tests so you can find out,” he said. (I was impressed he knew about the Wisdom Panel.)
“I am the vet, Jacob!” I said. (He gave me a look like I should know what she is then.)
“We took Raven to the vet for that blood test.”
I asked, “What did you find out?”
“We found out that she doesn’t have fleas. And that she needed a couple of shots.”
“I bet your puppy is a Black Lab and a black Terrier mixed together.”
I said, “I don’t need a fancy blood test Jacob! I have you!”
“Ha!” he said.
I’ll bet he’s right…