Accounts from Mae Spuckleseed’s veterinarian practice may be read in any order.
#SueAnn is fine. We weren’t so sure the other day, though, after her elbow gave out pushing up off the riverbank.
Crole saw first. We were fishing the spot and she fell, made a sharp mew. Crole thought the sound was a lark or a swallow with a real set of pipes.
But Sue lay on her side, struggling.
“Ho, girl.” I lowered my rod and reel. “Let’s have a look.”
Her rheumy eyes were on mine, too wide. She kept digging for purchase, and that elbow kept vexing her. The paw would push around the mud, small weak circles, then down she’d come.
She mewed again.
Crole said, “Almost sounds like a peeved titmouse.”
I hurried to still my dog. Sue responded to my hands on her neck and belly, staying on her side, peaceful.
But the eyes were still wide.
“Does it hurt?” I said, probing the joint.
She didn’t mew or speak, but when I touched the elbow’s tip, it twitched back.
I decided to call #MaeSpuckleseed. Now Crole will say I’m a softie, but if you’ve owned a senior dog, you’ll understand. Mae, our vet up in Barboursville, has been practicing since before Johnny Unitas.
We spoke a few minutes. Then Mae had to get back to a mare with a sour stomach, one of Razorback Reba’s over in Teays Valley.
Crole had waited with Sue on the riverbank.
“About damn time,” he said. “I missed four good bites.” Gesturing to his rod, which he’d propped against his jug of moonshine.
I replaced him at Sue’s side. I located the two bones of her forelimb and set my fingernail between them by the elbow. I felt both surfaces carefully.
Crole resumed fishing and suggested I had a future in canine chiropractoring.
I kept feeling.
*There.*
A quarter inch down: the spur.
I opened the plastic bag I’d brought from the house, and pulled out the ball-peen hammer, awl, and several slices of venison liver. I lost my nerve a few times but finally completed Mae’s remedy.
Sue’s fine now.
To the reader — I wouldn’t look to Mae’s advice nor this tale generally for guidance. Crole believes we did not a whit of good. He figures the noise was passing geese.
Sue and I were at the vet. She’d missed her yearly check-up, all this Covid mess.
“… vicious, a whole vicious gang of ’em,” I heard from inside #maeSpuckleseed’s exam room. “I swear my pepper plants are nothing but stalks …”
Other voices joined in. I caught stray words. “Tomatoes.” “Danged destructive.” The door was closed, but the voices got through. Mae’s parking lot was full of cars and trucks. More than usual.
#sueAnn settled differently against my boot. Last February, Mae had wanted to X-ray her bum hip. I said no. Sue’s old. What more is a glossy picture going to say?
Mae’s voice crackled over the others. “Enough. A rabbit is a rabbit is a rabbit …”
It got hard to hear, and I stopped trying. Eavesdropping is no past-time of mine. I get enough surveillance in during missions for Third Chance Enterprises.
Sue and I waited another ten minutes. Then Mae showed us in, frowning at Sue’s gait.
I explained, “She’s been sitting a while. Stiffens up.”
The leathery skin around Mae’s eyes creased further. Sue looked at her and tried standing straighter, I thought.
I hiked my thumb toward the parking lot. “What were all them hot about?”
The vet’s head ticked back and forth. “Aw, they think I know some magic bunny cure. I told them to build fences. They’d be done by now if they spent half the time it took ’em complaining, plotting to come talk to me about it.”
Mae drew back a syringe plunger, preparing a shot. She stuck Sue between the shoulders. Sue didn’t flinch.
“Amen to that,” I said.
#MaeSpuckleseed reports the varmints are getting desperate. Less commerce, fewer scraps I guess.
She took this fella into her clinic off the streets of Barbourville.
#maeSpuckleseed plays in a roving card game, every other Tuesday night. It's said she's a real shark. She brings her vet bag. If you host, she can knock out your dog/livestock checkups for the year. Offsets your losses
#maeSpuckleseed says that glucosamine might help Sue's hip. She advises buying the people sort in bulk, cheaper that way.
It's said the vet up in Cumberland, #maeSpuckleseed, will neuter or spay a bobcat. $35, in and out. First she'll try to talk you out of it.