Well, since you all have been so indulgent about the Hounds for Haiti stuff and are doing so well with filling up the page with bids, let’s take a mental break for an episode of Pet Doctor Barbie. What do you say?
This episode is entitled, “The Devil Went Down to Omaha.”
I recently had lunch with a colleague and friend of mine, who for the purposes of this post shall be referred to as Dr. Daisy. Dr. Daisy is a little ray of sunshine, sprinkling good cheer and merriment wherever she goes. It’s hard not to like Dr. Daisy.
Shortly after graduation, she took a job at my old clinic, working with Dr. Nessa.
I had worked with Dr. Nessa but briefly before leaving for a stint as an emergency vet. From what I understand, this was a good thing. Sure, she seemed decent enough in our brief interactions together, but shortly after leaving I started to get calls from my ex co-workers that sounded like Radar calling in for backup from the trenches in Korea.
“Dr V! I only have a minute…” sounds of yelling “It’s crazy here! You gotta come back! There’s needles flying every- whaa? AAAUUGHH!” crash
My friends on the front lines didn’t last long before getting their own discharge papers (mental breakdowns, every one) but the stories they told would make your hair curl. So when Dr. Daisy took a job there, I was a little nervous for her sweet and unassuming self. Apparently it went about as well as one would expect given the circumstances:
“Hi! I’m Dr. Daisy! I look forward to working with you!”
“Whatever. Just stay out of my way.”
“Can I ask you a question about a case?”
“But, it’s about this cat you saw and the owner says you turned it into a pot belled pig and- uh, oooooookay…….never mind.”
And so on and so forth.
I had gone to visit Dr. Daisy last week to see how she was holding up and see if I could offer any words of support. She was a little discouraged, but took heart from her good working relations with the rest of the staff, who, much like the long-suffering residents of Oz were plodding along the best they could.
While I was there, Dr. Daisy pointed out an old picture of mine, one of me and my (now deceased) dogs back at the start of my career. I had tacked it on the office bulletin board back when the clinic first opened and forgotten it when I left. I thought I had taken all my pictures with me, and was delighted and a bit verklempt to see that old photo that I forgot existed. She pressed it into my palm, and we hugged. I told her to stay strong.
The next day, the receptionist told me that the office manager from Dr. Daisy’s office was on the phone.
“Hi there,” I said. “Need to borrow something?”
“Uh, no…” she said. “Look, this is a little embarrassing and I’m sure it’s a big misunderstanding but….well….Dr. Nessa says when you were here yesterday you stole some stuff off the walls and were defacing our property…?”
To say I was displeased would be an understatement. They had to hold me back from sticking Brody in a bicycle basket and heading on over with a bucket of water. Mop water that we used after cleaning a ruptured anal gland abscess.
Imagine my sheer and utter delight when I heard the news that Dr. Nessa’s fiancee has a job offer in Omaha, effective immediately. I suppose my joy is nothing compared to that of the jolly old munchkins in Daisyland, who have some celebrating to do now that their despot is about to be deposed. Do they have tornadoes in Omaha?