Bo Brock - Crowded in the Middle of Nowhere: Tales of Humor and Healing from Rural America

PRAISE

A wonderfully, heartwarming book! Each story is designed to provoke a reactiona laugh, a chuckle, a smile, a tear. Written in an easy-to-read, down-to-earth style, you can read this book all in one sitting, or read a story a day. Either way, this book lives up to its promiseit WILL make you smile.

Lisa P. Lubbock, TX

His knack for finding the heartserious or funnyof a situation kept me enthralled with every story! I highly recommend it to everyone who has a heart or a funny bone!

Eileen P. Junction, Colorado

This is one of my all-time favorite books. Bo's stories transcend education, economy, and age. Each one generates distinctive thoughts and emotions and can spark remarkable conversations. This is certainly not just a book for veterinarians or for those who live in small towns.

Emily B., Davis CA

The names and identifying characteristics of persons referenced in this book have been changed to protect their privacy.

Published by Greenleaf Book Group Press

Austin, Texas

www.gbgpress.com

Copyright 2014 Dr. Bo Brock

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Distributed by Greenleaf Book Group

For ordering information or special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Greenleaf Book Group at PO Box 91869, Austin, TX 78709, 512-891-6100.

Cover design by Main Street Designs, Inc., Pinehurst, N.C. Interior design and composition by Greenleaf Book Group Cover photo by Ashton Graham

Cataloging-in-Publication data is available.

Print ISBN: 978-1-62634-264-4

eBook ISBN: 978-1-62634-265-1

Part of the Tree Neutral program, which offsets the number of trees consumed in the production and printing of this book by taking proactive steps, such as planting trees in direct proportion to the number of trees used: www.treeneutral.com

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

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Second Edition

CONTENTS

ONE
Family

TWO
West Texas Ingenuity

THREE
Mentors, Colleagues, and Peers

FOUR
Veterinary (mis)Adventures

FIVE
Adventures in the Field

SIX
Cowboys, Old Men, and Oddballs

SEVEN
Cowgirls and Old Women

EIGHT
Look for the Moments

NINE
Unconditional Love

TEN
Leonard

Introduction

Otis, or Why I Became a Veterinarian

At two days post graduation, I wasnt the surest diagnostician to answer a farm call. I was off to my first caseon my first day of workand my first foray into being a real vet. As I drove to the ranch, I ran through the possible causes of the symptoms that the man had explained to me over the phone.

Crossing the fifth cattle guard after the sixth turn through the rough county around Clarendon, Texas, I saw Otis standing at the foot of a steep cliff. I had never met him before, but I quickly noted that he was a type-B fat guy. You know the kind I am talking about: He wears his pants below the belly. The type-A fat guy wears his pants above the belly, and those pants usually have a zipper that must be twenty inches long. (You male readers know what I mean: When youre standing at the urinal during football half-time and you hear a zip that lasts about two seconds, you know its either a coat unzipping or the type-A fat guy with a twenty-inch zipper.) Otis, I would learn, always smoked a cigar and had the vocabulary of a sailor.

Where is she? I asked after climbing out of my truck. He pointed up to the top of the fifteen-or-so-foot cliff to a small, flat spot where the cow had collapsed and lain down. We climbed up the side of this dry riverbed together, him huffing and puffing, and me wondering what the heck this cow could have wrong with her.

When we arrived, I saw a huge Shorthorn cow lying on her side and paddling her legs. She had been paddling for so long that she had dug wedge-shaped trenches beneath her. I began to feel the sweat roll down my neck as I pondered what in the world could have caused this behavior.

Otis asked, What in the hell could be wrong with that big ol cow, young doctor?

I had no idea. I needed to stall for as long as possible and collect my thoughts. I told Otis I had to get something out of the pickup and slid back down the bank. I decided the best thing to do was to get some blood and see if lab tests could help. With blood collection tubes in hand, I scurried back up the cliff to the cow and her big, fat owner.

Much to my surprise, when I stuck the needle in the cows vein, the blood ran chocolate brown. Wow, what luck! They had taught me about this in veterinary school. The cow had nitrate poisoning from grazing the milo (sorghum grain) patch across the creek. And guess what? I actually knew how to help her!

The next trip down the cliff to my truck found me walking with a spring in my step and even whistlin a tune. I gathered up the antidote and scurried back up the cliff.

Otis was impressed with my confidence and even smiled for a second. So, doc, how long till she gets up after you give her this stuff? he asked.

To this question, I had no answer. The text books dont give you that kind of information; they just tell you how to treat the problem. Thats why they call it the practice of medicine, and at this particular moment, I was practicing on my very first patient. I gave Otis the standard I-really-dont-know answer: It varies from animal to animal. There are just some things you learn as you go, and I was going to learn how long it would take the antidote to work.

I gave the cow the medicine in her vein and, to my surprise, she hopped right up! In fact, she hopped up and looked mad. She looked real mad. First, she looked at me, then she turned to Otis. I guess she decided that he looked easier to catch and softer to head-butt because she went running at him with mean intentions.

I did what any valiant veterinarian would do in this situation: I ran down the hill and jumped into the back of my pickup. I thought Otis was right behind meand the cow was right behind himbut he wasnt. She had him cornered on that little cliff, and she was whoopin him.

At first, I was amazed at his agility. For a fat guy, he was putting some moves on this cow. But that only lasted for a short while. You see, she was still a little uncoordinated and stiff from being down so long, but that only took about three or four charges to get over, and then she had her youthful athleticism back. On the fourth pass, she got him. She rolled him like a rubber ball to the cliff s edge, and then with one mighty shove, over he went. Good thing dry creek bed sand is soft, because I really think I saw Otis bend backward so far that his head touched his fanny.

Are you OK? I shouted from the safety of the truck bed.

S---, no! he screamed back at me.