Tennessee Vet

by Carolyn McSparren

  Barbara took Dotie into her office and started the interview. It largely consisted of what Dotie would not do if she were hired. She would not stay late or come early. Or work weekends.

  “My Duane wants his dinner at straight-up six o’clock,” she said.

  “We can’t always close the clinic on time. You’d have to handle rescheduling appointments when I am off on an emergency. How are your computer skills?”

  “Oh, they’re fine. I took me some courses down at the junior college when Duane thought it was time I got back into the workforce full-time.”

  Duane’s voice echoed in Barbara’s head. She remembered a biblical quote about no man—in this case no woman—could serve two masters. Given a choice, Dotie would probably always choose Duane over Barbara.

  “Past few years I worked holidays down at Dress Pretty, but this year I decided I needed something permanent, not just before Christmas. Duane says I’m good with people.”

  “How are you with guinea pigs?” Mentally, Barbara slapped herself. That was snide.

  “Pigs? In the office?”

  “Not that kind. Usually. Although if we have a pig come in needing treatment, we treat him.” Actually, if a Barbary ape wandered in needing treatment, he’d get it, but best not to mention that to Dotie.

  Dotie’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.

  “Dotie, do you like dogs and cats?”

  “Lord, yes. I got me two big ol’ tabbies I keep in the house, and Duane has a coonhound he loves better than he loves his grandchildren.”

  Good. One for Dotie.

  “Do you mind scrubbing and cleaning?”

  “What kind?” Her eyes narrowed. “I thought this was about the computer and all.”

  “It’s about anything that needs doing. If we see a mess, we clean it up. The actual cleanup person comes in every afternoon...mostly...but this is a small practice.” That the cleanup crew consisted of one teenager who came in after school was not germane.

  “I don’t like blood,” Dotie said with a shiver and a sniff. “It’s unsanitary. Not to mention those other bodily functions.”

  Which have names. “That’s why we wear gloves and masks and scrubs and use lots of disinfectant.”

  “Can I ask a question?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Your ad said ‘Dr. B. Carew,’ not Barbara. Are you the only doctor?”

  “I am in the process of hiring another.”

  “Man or woman?”

  Barbara didn’t know, since so far the hiree was a figment of her imagination. “Does it matter?”

  “I’m not too sure about working for a woman, but if you hire a man, Duane wouldn’t like me being here alone with a man if you had to go out. He worries about me.”

  “That’s sweet, but if it can’t be a man or a woman, I think we’re pretty much stuck.”

  Dotie snickered.

  After that the interview wound to its inevitable conclusion quickly. Barbara walked Dotie to the front door and shook her hand once more. “Thanks so much for coming in, Mrs....uh, Dotie. We should be making a decision in the next few days. We’ll call you.”

  “Uh-huh. Oh, Lordy!” Dotie jumped aside to avoid being run over by a pot-bellied pig that had long since stopped being miniature. Without another word she fled across the parking lot and climbed into an immaculate electric blue pickup truck.

  Clean truck. Another point in Dotie’s favor. But two was not nearly enough. She shut the door on Dotie, turned and caught Emma’s eye as she checked in the pig. Emma shook her head slightly and whispered, “As if.”

  “So it’s still just us,” Barbara said. “Pray the next one is exactly the person we want. We have to have some help or we’re going to implode.”

  “Stephen will help.”

  Barbara turned away and whispered, “That’s all I need. More Stephen.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  BARBARA WALKED OUT of one of the examining rooms as Stephen walked in carrying a deli bag. Except for checking on Orville, he had not come to the clinic for several days.

  “Thanks, Doc,” said the small man who followed Barbara with an animal carrier. The animal inside whimpered. “This dang dog is going to get hisself runned over for good instead of knocked out of the way if he don’t stop running out the back door ahead of me.”

  “He was lucky you stopped in time, Abe. He’ll be sore, but the cuts and bruises are superficial and will heal on their own with the antibiotic ointment. If he shows any sign of infection, bring him back.”

  She turned and saw Stephen.

  He gave her what he hoped was a dazzling smile. The one she gave him back certainly qualified. His heart lifted. He’d always considered that one of those idiotic and unscientific clichés, but he felt as though the organ physically moved in his chest, lifting his spirits, as well.

  “I figured to surprise you and Emma with lunch,” he said.” I realized I didn’t know what kind of sandwiches you might want, so I have ham-and-cheese and turkey-and-cheese, along with pickles, chips and sodas. Will that do?”

  “Compared to the canned soup we generally have, it’s a feast,” Barbara told him. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “I didn’t want to eat alone, so I took a chance you were both sticking close to the clinic.” He gave her a small grin. “Plus it got me away from the computer and out of the house.”

  “Emma and I generally stay in for lunch, although we lock the door and put the Closed sign on it for an hour. We occasionally drive into Williamston to have lunch at the café, but it’s too long to drive every day when there are people waiting. Does Emma know you’re here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Come on, it’s time to close. We have to make it fast. I have someone coming in an hour and a half about the assistant job. I just interviewed one lady, but she didn’t fit.”

  “You got that right,” Emma called from behind the reception desk. “Stephen, you mind coming in here and hanging the sign on the door while I haul my hippo self out of this chair?”

  He did, and she did.

  “The job description for what I do—or did before I got too big—is dogsbody or gofer,” Emma said. “Mostly it’s ‘other duties as assigned.’ Did you come back to visit Orville?”

  “No, I’m here to wine you and dine you. I have vintage sodas and Michelin three-star sandwiches.”

  “No bananas Foster on fire?” She picked up napkins from the counter that held the coffee urn and several paper plates from the shelf underneath. “Any lower down and you’d have to reach them. I don’t bend any longer. Here you go.”

  “Don’t people get upset when they come in the middle of the day and find you’re closed?”

  “We have them well-trained, unless it’s a genuine emergency,” Barbara said.

  “Then we miss lunch,” Emma added. “Sit down. We can eat on our laps unless you want to go formal and pull up one of the side tables.”

  “Lap is fine. I don’t do formal. Who wants what?”

  They parceled out the food and drink and ate in companionable silence. Emma looked on the verge of exhaustion. He knew she didn’t want to let down Barbara, but he intended to speak to her in private and let her know that if she needed more time off and Barbara couldn’t replace her, he would take her place. He could do his research from here on his laptop just as easily as he could from home. He’d always been able to concentrate in the center of the whirlwind.

  “Is the notice about closing Friday week in the Marquette paper?” Barbara asked Emma.

  “Scheduled the next two weeks. I asked for space next to the half-page ad for the fair, but they never promise position unless you pay a lot more money. Tom at the radio station is going to announce it every day next week on the community announcements.”

  “Including that Dr. Kirksey will be handling emergencies?”


  “Yes, Barbara,” Emma said with weary patience.

  “You’re closing?” Stephen asked. “Going out of town?”

  “No. Tuesday through Saturday week is the Williamston County Fair.”

  “Barnum and Bailey it is not,” Emma said and rolled her eyes.

  “It’s one of those traveling carnivals. They come every year with all the usual midway rides and stuff, plus there’s livestock judging, cooking, quilting...” Barbara added.

  “Making sorghum for your biscuits,” Emma said and wiggled her nose. “Not my thing, but some people love it. Interesting to watch them cook it, but these days I’ll probably smell it and barf.”

  “No you will not, Miss Emma,” said Barbara. “You give this year a miss just for me, all right? You have no business being jostled and breathing in other people’s germs. You stay home with your feet up, read a book. Since we have to close the office, get some rest.”

  “Why exactly, do you have to close the office?” he asked.

  “The local vets share the chores at the fair every year,” Barbara said. “That Friday is down as my day. I have to get to the fairgrounds south of Williamston by seven in the morning to check the animals that are being shown in the breed classes. After that I deal with problems on an ad hog basis.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I will ignore that, thank you. Like what?” Stephen asked.

  “Usually cuts and scrapes, lameness, sows getting stressed and trying to eat their piglets... Don’t look like that. Hogs are very sensitive. Mostly I get to hang out, eat myself sick on greasy food that is guaranteed to put five pounds on me overnight and ride the rides.”

  “You what?”

  “Well, some of the rides. The Ferris wheel terrifies me. When I was in high school, the boy I went to the fair with conned me into riding the Ferris wheel with him. We got stuck at the top.”

  “And he, being a teenaged boy in a confined space beside a teenaged girl, trapped between heaven and earth...”

  “Right, he rocked the gondola. Hard.”

  “I’m sure he had some dumb idea that you would scream and cling so he could snatch a kiss or two.” Stephen chortled. “What did you actually do?”

  “Oh, I screamed and clung all right, until we got down and out onto the boardwalk, then I slugged him and begged a ride home from my best friend. I gave the boy a black eye. He never told anyone how he got it and neither did I. I haven’t ridden on a Ferris wheel since and don’t intend to ride one again in this lifetime. Now, the roller coaster I love.”

  “You are insane. Roller coasters, even the small ones, horrify me. My youngest daughter, Anne, who rides large horses over tall fences, has never seen a roller coaster that she didn’t want to bring home with her and set up in the backyard. When Nina and I took the girls to the fair every year, Nina had to go with Anne on the roller coaster until her patience or my cash ran out. My elder girl, Elaine, stayed on the ground with me. What do you do when you are not vetting, eating, or riding the roller coaster?”

  “See the fair. Check out the livestock, watch the animal judging. Talk to people. There’s harness racing in the afternoon. No betting—well, not overt—but no harness-racing enthusiast could miss having a little flier with his buddies. The police generally turn a blind eye. I listen to the high-school band and maybe watch the sunset. Then I drive home carefully, since I’m usually so tired by that point I’m cross-eyed. Once home I make certain the animals have been fed and watered and that the place is locked up.”

  “Who looks after them while you’re not here? Not Emma, surely.”

  “Since that’s the day all the kids are out of school for their fair day, the girl who comes in the afternoon does it. Although I thought I’d surely have a full-time replacement for Emma by this time.”

  “Sounds like an awfully responsible job for a youngster,” Stephen said.

  Emma ran her hands over her shoulders and eased her neck. “What she’s not telling you is that Seth and Earl will drive by a couple of times to be sure there aren’t any problems.” She glanced over at Barbara. “So will I.” She held her hands in front of her. “Don’t look at me like that, Barbara. I promise I won’t spend the day here, but I will stop by a couple of times, and I’ll have the clinic phone switched over to my house. Heather has done the afternoon feeding and watering several times. She knows when to panic.”

  “We won’t do any nonemergency surgery that day,” Barbara said. “Dr. Kirksey has a full-time vet tech, so if he has to go out to do an emergency delivery or something on Friday, he can go in my place.” She stood, collected the detritus from lunch, balled it up and stuffed it into the sack Stephen had brought it in.

  “I wouldn’t have thought Williamston was a large enough town to have an annual fair,” Stephen said.

  “Complete with a midway,” Barbara said. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “It’s been going strong since just after the First World War,” said Emma. “The blue ribbons for the biggest hog or the most colorful quilt are prized and argued over all year by everyone in town. Nearly all the churches have food tents that sell pure cholesterol and sugar.”

  Stephen gave Emma an arm to hold onto as she struggled to stand.

  “I’m off to the bathroom for the fortieth time. Thanks for lunch, Stephen.”

  They watched her toddle off. Stephen asked Barbara, “Does your fair have fried custard?”

  Barbara lifted her eyebrows and tossed the trash bag into the wastebasket beside Emma’s desk. “So you know about that, do you? We can beat that. We have fried butter!”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Am not. They take a whole stick of butter, roll it in bread crumbs and fry it.”

  “That is right up there with dining on chocolate-covered crickets. What happens when you bite into it?”

  “What do you think? It’s supposed to be fried so fast that the butter doesn’t melt, like chicken Kiev. Most of the time, however, the minute you bite it goes sploosh and squirts out all over everything.”

  “I thought fried custard was bad. What else?”

  “Tamales and foot-long hot dogs, corn dogs and corn on the cob, cotton candy, fried catfish, barbecue, turkey legs and—”

  “Stop!” He held up his hands. “I give up. Do the EMTs run a mobile trauma unit to revive the gourmands who keel over with heart attacks on the fairgrounds?”

  “No idea. I’m only concerned with the animals. I hate having to close, even though I start reminding the clients about the date weeks before the day I’m at the fair. Dr. Kirksey and I coordinate our answering services. He has a much larger operation than I do, but as a general rule, he does small animals only. With luck, by next year this time I’ll have another vet working with me and someone on the front desk full-time. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  “Are you interviewing anyone for the veterinarian’s spot?” he asked.

  Barbara looked over at the restroom door. Emma had not yet reappeared.

  “I’ve written to two—one woman, one man—both new graduates who have passed their boards and are ready to get their feet wet in the real world of veterinary medicine. Another full-time vet will mean that we’ll all be able to work decent schedules. Ideally, one vet will work in the office handling clinic calls, and one will be on the road dealing with large animals and emergencies. A full-time clerk will manage the office part, then I need a full-time trained vet tech to assist the vets.”

  “So you’ll have more free time?” He could hear the eagerness in his voice. You’ll be able to leave the clinic? Actually go out to dinner, maybe a movie occasionally? Possibly even the theater in Memphis when they have something good on?”

  Emma froze. “More likely, I will go to bed early and not fall asleep at lunch. I’m used to being alone and making my own decisions. That won’t change, but another vet should mean more clients. I still wo
n’t be able to go gallivanting off if I feel like it.”

  “So you’re trying to reach critical mass all over again with more staff?”

  “Not immediately. This is a professional decision, Stephen. In no way is it for my personal convenience. Or yours.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grinned at her.

  “I may still be looking to hire this time next year.”

  “Surely not,” he said. “So, who are these newly minted vets? What schools did they attend?”

  “It is none of your business.”

  “I’m curious, is all.”

  * * *

  BUTTING IN, WAS ALL, Barbara thought. “The woman is from the University of Alabama. The man is from Mississippi State. They both have significant experience with both large and small animals, but the woman has some wild-animal experience with their local rehabilitators. It’s not a deal breaker, but it would help if the person I hire can deal with skunks and raccoons and foxes. We don’t have badgers or black-footed ferrets this far east, but you’d be amazed at what some people will buy for pets. I don’t approve of keeping exotic pets, but I intend to see it’s well taken care of once it’s acquired. Then we occasionally are asked to treat a really wild animal. We have cougars—what the local farmers call painters—moving up from the south toward eastern Kentucky. Possibly because of global warming and lack of habitat. And we have black bears from time to time. I’ve never had to deal with one, but my colleagues around the Carolina border have. In the spring when they’re hungry and have cubs, they are very dangerous.”

  She was suddenly struck by the fact that she had no other frame of reference but the animals she served.

  Stephen talked about going out to dinner or even going to Memphis to the theater. She and John used to drive to Memphis to see plays, but she hadn’t seen live theater since he’d died. She hated even going to the movies alone. She might as well have walled herself up.

  Intellect withered in isolation. So did emotion. She funneled all hers into the animals she served. Had she totally lost the ability to connect with people about anything other than their dogs and cats and their cattle and goats? She realized she had not heard what he was saying. She couldn’t even listen to human speech properly.