VN October 2020

Vetnews | October 2020 37 Story the beach alongside where the river enters the sea and watched a man walking four dogs. Each was a good specimen of its breed, and each behaved fairly typically of what its breed would do on an open stretch of coastline with only its owner and two strangers in sight. • The six month old Ridgeback ripped a button off my shirt in excitement. • The Beagle smelt our legs and feet then sat and gazed up into our faces while its tail thumped. • The Staffie wasn’t interested in us and was going hectic, digging frantically all over the beach, sand cascading through its hind legs. • But the dog, hound, that blew my socks off was the German Short-haired Pointer. Oblivious to us and his boss, he ran, sprinted full stride, stretching super-athletically, tongue lolling out, the full length of the beach and back again, a few times, sheer full elastic unreserved pace. To use that over-used expression – he was the epitome of poetry in motion. I could have stood under the spreading branches of that milk-wood tree for hours watching his exuberance and freedom During our short stay to collect Rebecca we stayed in pothole- ridden Grahamstown with my very dear friend and classmate, Phil Gilfillan and Anne. We had been each other’s best-men at our weddings. Although we were both born country boys, Phil has spent his last many years doing small animals, while I have been lucky enough to be a farm vet most of my working life. This is important because I love nothing more than being with a herd of beautiful Holsteins or Jerseys, Sussex or Angus; and other breeds, but I have a special place in my heart for those four, probably due to boyhood imprinting. Over the years, as the circle has been turning, I must have “wasted” (as my commercially driven colleagues would scold) hundreds of hours pausing to gawk at, or criticise, or evaluate for show purposes, bovines of all shapes, sizes and creeds. Ironically, a day before I left behind the practice that Peter Collier and I began in 1976, I performed my final caesarean on a bovine. This one, however, was not on a hilltopwith stale water far away and a bow-legged oldish farmer my only helper. No, the Jersey heifer was lying half in a mountain stream with fresh clear water rushing over her. The four of us pulled her on to the bank and performed the surgery. My assistants called me “Kulu.”The calf was staggering to its feet by the time I’d loaded my katundas into the bakkie then in my rugged Isuzu (not a VW Beetle) bounced my way across the veld to the farm track. So, my circle has fully closed. I thankmy colleagues whose lives have been, and still are, dedicated to serving such animals as Trish and I met on the Kei Mouth beach (especially GSPs!), and sleek Jersey heifers, and hope that you long-suffering colleagues can from time to time step back and appreciate the beautiful creatures – wonders of our Creator’s creation - whose well-being is in your care. I was putting up a new gate to our vegetable garden and my mind was wandering, creatively. The idea of “the full circle” sprouted, and this little essay is the result. Yes, isn’t it ironic that I started, and just short of half a century later, closed my circle or season of vet-life in the very same place? And a new season begins …… v Webinar Series Dr Sheelagh Higgerty Dr Rissa Parker WEBINAR 01 Foals and Foaling by Dr Rissa Parker 07 Oct, 19:00 CAT www.bit.ly/saeva2020-web1 support@vetlink.co.za 012 346 1590