Folks often ask me, “What’s it like to be married to a veterinarian?”
My response: “Well, not all that different from being the son of one.”
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Folks often ask me, “What’s it like to be married to a veterinarian?”
My response: “Well, not all that different from being the son of one.”
You see, I’ve been blessed with two veterinarians – my father and my wife.
I was reflecting on this familiar anomaly as I watched the new PBS series “All Creatures Great and Small” this past week. For those who don’t know, it’s about a British veterinarian practicing in the 1930s in the rural Yorkshire.
PBS just announced there will be a second season this year.
Oddly enough, I’ve yet to meet a veterinarian who enjoys watching the program – or any of the other of a half dozen or so shows about animal doctors.
Journalists are just the opposite. We love to watch movies about our profession. “All the President’s Men,” “Spotlight,” “The Frontpage” and “His Girl Friday” are all shows that just about every reporter I know has seen.
My wife, Joan, a Springfield small-animal veterinarian heckles the TV screen when a veterinary procedure is depicted. She feels the need to share with everyone within earshot what the person on TV is doing wrong.
One time, while watching “The Incredible Dr. Pol” my wife cast a jaundiced eye toward the television and hollered, “Why isn’t that dog intubated?”
On the other hand, reporters will sit in awe as Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman depict Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein – even if it’s the twentieth time we’ve seen the movie.
In his later years, I tried to get my Dad to watch “Dr. Pol” with me. After all, like Pol, he treated livestock and pets. But after a few minutes of viewing Dad would growl, “I guess someone who knows nothing about veterinary medicine might find this interesting.”
I love to watch that show.
After all, growing up, I was always “Doc Reeder’s boy.”
Together we would ride from farm to farm across Knox and Warren counties. I observed and helped with countless surgeries and procedures.
Sometimes it was as simple as, “Hold the flashlight, Scotty.”