Zach LarkinsA TRIP BACK IN TIME
My friend, Nick, of Nickoftimes Sanity Corner is a veterinarian. He recently wrote a piece about medical doctors and the experience he's had with them. A touching item that is worth a read and one that we can all relate to. But it bugged me somewhat because he is in, basically, the same field. The difference is, his patients can't walk into the office and say, "Well, doc, I have this pain here.........." or "I think I broke something going for the skateboard record for sliding down bannisters............" or "I need a note for work to tell my boss why I wasn't in today............"
He has to do all this by touch and feel and look. And exotic as that might sound, remember that he can be called out to put his arm up to his shoulder in a cow's ass to make sure the calf is pointed the right way, diagnose a case of swine flu, sew up little Poopsie who's been mauled by a bigger dog, remove a stubborn hairball from a cat or patch the broken wing of a budgie. All without ever once getting one word of what's ailing his patient from the patient itself. Imagine you phoning in your illness to your doctor and being treated long distance. Pretty much the same thing.
Well, the other day, I was sitting out one the patio, reminiscing about my boyhood. I don't own a pet. My wife has had a couple of Staffies in her time, but we don't have anything now. So I travelled back about a million years and thought of Vicki.
"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine"
Vicki was my aunt's dog. A German Shepherd. A huge dog. Of course, I was all of about 8 or 9 years old at the time (told you I went back a million years), so most everything was huge to me then. Every night after dinner, I would take the table scraps down the road for him to eat. I didn't even come up to the top of the fence that kept him in, yet when I came up the driveway, he would be there, up against it on his back legs, looking down on me from over the top rail.
"Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories"
He'd let me in and we'd play. My aunt would put the scraps in the bowl, mixed with his regular food and we'd still play. He wouldn't eat until I'd left no matter how hungry he was. I think he truly loved me. We once went out of town for three days and upon my return, my aunt remarked how happy she was that we were home. Vicki hadn't eaten a damned thing all the time we were gone.
My aunt was out walking him one day and stopped in to visit us. My brother was about two years old at the time and Vicki went up to him to make friends with this strange little creature. He poked my brother in the stomach with his nose and lil bro was promptly sitting on his ass in the grass. Wow, did Vicki ever get scolded for that one. Forever after, when my brother came around, he got a hell of a wide berth from the dog. If I was playing with him and my brother got too close, Vicki would leave the two of us and go back to his dog house. Of course he would look at me with those doggie eyes and droop his ears, in his own way pleading with me to show up alone the next time so that we could be together, just like in the old days.
"Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you"
My uncle would take him with us when we went fishing or smelting out at Point Pelee. You could just see the excitement in the dog as he quivered, waiting to do whatever we asked of us. Get the pail, hold this end of the net, come here and give me a kiss. He would do it all and all he wanted in return was a little affection. He sure got that from me.
My aunt's house sat beside the local schoolyard, so any balls that fell into her yard from our baseball or soccer games became the property of Vicki. That's the only time he would bark and I think it was more as a ‘thank you for the new toy' than a ‘stay away from me' bark. Vicki would let anyone in the yard. But you weren't leaving unless you decided you really didn't need that extra leg anyway. Me? I was king of the hill. I could come and go as I wanted and I swear I'd hear him cry when I left to go back home.
One day, my aunt showed up at our place without him. It seems someone was baiting him with food and eventually put broken glass into it. Vicki hung in there for two days under the vet's care. His hind legs were useless and I think he knew he was going to die. My aunt and uncle were with him up to the last. The vet administered the shot and Vicki was gone. They never had another dog after that. I cried for two days. My friend was gone.
"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories"
Thanks Nick, for bringing back those sweet memories. Memories of being young, free, ignorant of the problems plaguing the world. Memories of finding trust, friendship and love. Memories that I've tried to ignore for too long.
Thanks.
He has to do all this by touch and feel and look. And exotic as that might sound, remember that he can be called out to put his arm up to his shoulder in a cow's ass to make sure the calf is pointed the right way, diagnose a case of swine flu, sew up little Poopsie who's been mauled by a bigger dog, remove a stubborn hairball from a cat or patch the broken wing of a budgie. All without ever once getting one word of what's ailing his patient from the patient itself. Imagine you phoning in your illness to your doctor and being treated long distance. Pretty much the same thing.
Well, the other day, I was sitting out one the patio, reminiscing about my boyhood. I don't own a pet. My wife has had a couple of Staffies in her time, but we don't have anything now. So I travelled back about a million years and thought of Vicki.
"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine"
Vicki was my aunt's dog. A German Shepherd. A huge dog. Of course, I was all of about 8 or 9 years old at the time (told you I went back a million years), so most everything was huge to me then. Every night after dinner, I would take the table scraps down the road for him to eat. I didn't even come up to the top of the fence that kept him in, yet when I came up the driveway, he would be there, up against it on his back legs, looking down on me from over the top rail.
"Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories"
He'd let me in and we'd play. My aunt would put the scraps in the bowl, mixed with his regular food and we'd still play. He wouldn't eat until I'd left no matter how hungry he was. I think he truly loved me. We once went out of town for three days and upon my return, my aunt remarked how happy she was that we were home. Vicki hadn't eaten a damned thing all the time we were gone.
My aunt was out walking him one day and stopped in to visit us. My brother was about two years old at the time and Vicki went up to him to make friends with this strange little creature. He poked my brother in the stomach with his nose and lil bro was promptly sitting on his ass in the grass. Wow, did Vicki ever get scolded for that one. Forever after, when my brother came around, he got a hell of a wide berth from the dog. If I was playing with him and my brother got too close, Vicki would leave the two of us and go back to his dog house. Of course he would look at me with those doggie eyes and droop his ears, in his own way pleading with me to show up alone the next time so that we could be together, just like in the old days.
"Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you"
My uncle would take him with us when we went fishing or smelting out at Point Pelee. You could just see the excitement in the dog as he quivered, waiting to do whatever we asked of us. Get the pail, hold this end of the net, come here and give me a kiss. He would do it all and all he wanted in return was a little affection. He sure got that from me.
My aunt's house sat beside the local schoolyard, so any balls that fell into her yard from our baseball or soccer games became the property of Vicki. That's the only time he would bark and I think it was more as a ‘thank you for the new toy' than a ‘stay away from me' bark. Vicki would let anyone in the yard. But you weren't leaving unless you decided you really didn't need that extra leg anyway. Me? I was king of the hill. I could come and go as I wanted and I swear I'd hear him cry when I left to go back home.
One day, my aunt showed up at our place without him. It seems someone was baiting him with food and eventually put broken glass into it. Vicki hung in there for two days under the vet's care. His hind legs were useless and I think he knew he was going to die. My aunt and uncle were with him up to the last. The vet administered the shot and Vicki was gone. They never had another dog after that. I cried for two days. My friend was gone.
"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories"
Thanks Nick, for bringing back those sweet memories. Memories of being young, free, ignorant of the problems plaguing the world. Memories of finding trust, friendship and love. Memories that I've tried to ignore for too long.
Thanks.
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