The Great Escape

D. E. Larsen, DVM

“Doctor Larsen, why is it so expensive to neuter a tomcat?” Vivian asked.

“So expensive?” I said. “I thought my fee was one of the most reasonable around.”

“Oh, I’m not questioning your fee. You are one of the most reasonable. But it just seems like a lot of money for a procedure that my father used to do out in the barn with his pocket knife.”

“Things have come a long way from when cats were neutered with a pocket knife,” I said. “I had an uncle who would neuter all the barn cats for the family. I was raised with a large extended family, and there were six family farms in a small area. Uncle Robert neutered all the barn cats.”

“So, if he could do it with a pocket knife, why does it cost thirty dollars for you to do it now?” Vivian asked again.

“After I got out of vet school, I was curious about just how he managed to do all those cats,” I said. “When I asked him, he said that his knife was always sharp. He would just pick up a cat, and with one stroke, cut off everything. The scrotum and testicles all at once, then toss the cat to let him runoff.”

“Oh, that sounds sort of gruesome,” Vivian said. “Those poor cats.”

“Yes, that is why I do a complete exam on the cat before surgery. And why I use anesthesia and pain medication, and I require cats have distemper and rabies vaccinations before surgery,” I said.

“That makes me feel a little better,” Vivian said. “I guess one gets what one pays for in most cases. Is your procedure safe?”

“Uncle Robert said that he never lost one of those cats,” I said. “At least not that he knew about. Of course, most of the dairy barns would have a dozen or more cats in those days. A young tomcat would not be missed in most cases. Here, we recover the cat from anesthesia and make sure everything is okay before sending him home. We have very few complications. But no procedure is without a possible problem. People make mistakes, cats have undetected problems, there is always a slim chance that there will be an issue with the surgery.”

“I am just so worried about Rocky,” Vivian said. “I just don’t know what I would do if I lost him.”

“One thing to think about is that tomcats that are left intact have a rough life,” I said. “And most of them don’t live very long. By their second year, they are out looking for the ladies, often at all hours. Cats like your Rocky, who have been pampered their entire life, are suddenly out fighting with the meanest old tomcat in the neighborhood. They are at high risk of getting diseases like the feline leukemia virus, and abscesses become common. When they are out prowling the neighborhood, they are thinking about that girl kitty across the street, and they forget to look for cars. Many get squashed on the street. Moneywise, you end up spending far more treating abscesses and wounds than you will ever spend on a neuter.”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell me all the bad things that will happen,” Vivian said. “I will schedule a neuter, but you just make sure you take special care of Rocky.”

“We try to take special care of all our patients,” I said. “You just schedule a morning to bring him in for surgery, and he will be ready to go home in the afternoon.”

“I don’t do mornings very well,” Vivian said. “Maybe I can bring him in the day before. Would that work out okay?”

“That should work out just fine,” I said. “We can work Rocky into our schedule on any day that you want to bring him down in the afternoon.”

“That is great. My daughter is taking me out shopping and having dinner for my birthday. We could bring Rocky in when we leave town tomorrow. That way, she could pay the bill. It is my birthday present.”

“Rocky will appreciate your daughter’s thoughtfulness,” I said. “We will look forward to seeing you tomorrow afternoon.”

***

Tuesday was shaping up to be a warm day. Wanting to get a jump keeping this clinic cool, we opened the garage door in the back and started the sprinkler on the roof right after lunch. The water coming off the roof was already running hot.

Vivian, with Emily following, came through the door carrying Rocky in her arms. Vivian took a seat and tried to console Rocky. Rocky could already smell a rat. This was not normal behavior for anyone.

“Hi, I would like to pay Vivian’s bill in advance if that is possible,” Emily said as she stood at the front counter talking with Sandy.

Sandy took care of the transaction, and she could see that Rocky was getting anxious.

“I’ll get one of the girls to take Rocky back to his kennel,” Sandy said.

“That will be nice,” Vivian said. “We need to get on the road if we are going to get any shopping done before dinner.

One of the high school girls working that summer scooped Rocky out of Vivian’s arms and held him as Vivian said her goodbyes. When Vivian and Emily left, The girl started to the kennel room in the back with Rocky in her arms.

As they approached the kennel room, Rocky heard a couple of dogs, and he had no interest in going through that door. At first, he struggled, then he exploded. With the open garage door right there, he was gone in a flash. 

The girl thought her career was over. We checked to see if, by chance, Vivian was still in the parking lot. No such luck. A crew of us went out back to try to retrieve Rocky. He was not interested in being returned to that house of horrors. I last saw him trucking down the railroad tracks. There was no chance for recapture.

I called Vivian’s home phone, no answer. We had no contact information for Emily. I would have to wait until morning to talk with Vivian. I was not looking forward to making that phone call.

***

“Good morning, Vivian,” I said when she answered the phone. “This is Doctor Larsen. We had a problem yesterday. When the girl who took Rocky from you got back to the kennel room, Rocky sort of exploded and got away from her and escaped out the back door. We tried to retrieve him, but he would have nothing to do with us.”

“So I am not going crazy after all,” Vivian said. “I thought that was Rocky at the food dish on the back patio. I was trying to tell myself that I was seeing things.”

“If you still want us to neuter him, I will send Sandy and one of the girls up to your place with a kennel to pick him up. We will do the surgery and return him in the afternoon, along with the money your daughter paid. I couldn’t charge you a fee in good conscience, not after yesterday’s events.”

“That would be fine, doctor,” Vivian said. “I appreciate your honesty, and I am sure my daughter will be pleased to get her money back.”

“If Rocky is at the food dish this morning, we will pick him up now, schedule the surgery for this afternoon and bring him home this evening.”

“Will he be awake enough to come home this evening?” Vivian asked.

“With the anesthesia we use, these guys wake right up,” I said. “He should be fine by this evening. And he will be happier at home than sharing the kennel room with a couple of dogs.”

“That is for sure, I will get him in the house now, and Sandy can come anytime.”

***

The surgery went well, and the trip to and from the clinic in a kennel was a snap. Rocky was the only patient to escape from the clinic in our forty years of practice. We got lucky that he was an outside cat that knew the town well.

Photo by Levent Simsek from Pexels

From the Archives, one year ago

My First Ellwood

The Value of a Valid Complaint

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Vertebrate Embryology class in the Zoology Department of the School of Science at Oregon State University was a required course for virtually all preprofessional students in 1969. That means that anyone hoping to get into medical school, dental school, or veterinary school was required to take this class. A good grade, preferably an A, was an unspoken requirement.

In the years before 1969, the series, which included two-quarters of Vertebrate Anatomy, was required. This was the first year that the requirement was reduced to just the embryology class. 

These classes were taught by Dr. Hilliman. Dr. Hilliman was feared by most students in the class. He virtually held their futures in his hand and could scratch their dreams with a stroke of a pen. Rumor had it that he had just failed one of his Ph.D. candidates who had been studying under him for five years.

The lectures were held in a large auditorium in the Zoology building. I don’t know how many people were in the class, but the arena was packed. I would suspect there were nearly 600 students in the lectures. Then the class was broken into laboratory groups. Graduate students would conduct the weekly lab classes, and my lab class had about thirty students.

Historically, one of the main features of the fall term was a massive spelling test. This test included anatomy names and phrases extracted from all three classes in the vertebrate anatomy and embryology series.

This was the setting when Dr. Hilliman addressed the packed auditorium about the upcoming spelling test.

“This test will be from the list of words that will be handed out in your lab class this week,” Dr. Hilliman said. “This word list is derived from words in this class and the two anatomy classes. This test is heavily weighted in my grade book.”

I was thunderstruck. How could he justify testing over classes that are no longer required? I waited for the uproar from the class.

Not a word was said. The entire auditorium was silent, not even a moan. There was nobody brave enough to question this man. 

I was mere weeks from the days when I gave presentations to visiting generals and NSA bigwigs in the general staff meetings at Wobeck. Those men actually held men’s lives in their hands. Those men had actual power. This professor was nothing compared to those men.

I took a deep breath and stood up. An audible gasp rose from the depths of the auditorium. Dr. Hilliman actually looked shocked as he looked at me. Someone was actually standing to address him. But he did not say a word to acknowledge my standing in the middle of this huddled mass of students.

Finally, I spoke in a firm, loud voice so all could hear.

“Dr. Hilliman, I am David Larsen,” I said. “I know this is a historical test, but this year, the requirement for the two anatomy classes has been dropped from the preprofessional requirements. The majority of students in this class today will not be required to take those classes. I think it is grossly unfair to be tested over material that we will not be required to take.”

When I was finished, I continued to stand. Dr. Hilliman seemed to glare at me, but he was too distant for me to appreciate that glare.

“Sit down,” Bob, a premed student sitting beside me, said as he tugged at my shirt. “Your dead, you know.”

Full minutes passed as Dr. Hilliman contemplated how to address this lone student who dared to stand and question the very conduct of his class. Did this fool not know his stature, the power he wielded over this group of wannabes. There was a hushed silence in the auditorium as everyone waited for the explosion.

“I have given this test every fall for over twenty years,” Dr. Hilliman finally said. “In that time, not one student has stood up and complained about this test. How dare you question my intentions.”

“I know the history of this test,” I said. “But this is the first year in the change in requirements. I say again, most of this class will not be required to take the two anatomy classes included in this test. And, I do not think that is fair.”

“The test will be conducted in your lab classes in three weeks,” Dr. Hilliman said. “Its format will be unchanged.”

That sounded like the discussion was over. I knew enough to not push too hard and try to get in the last word. I sat down.

“Why did you give him your name?” Bob said. “He is the most vindictive man on campus. You’re dead for sure.”

“What is he going to do? Send me to Vietnam,” I said.

Bob looked with a question in his eyes.

“That is the standard Army threat,” I said. “Do this the way I say, or I will send you to Vietnam.”

***

The following week, Dr. Hilliman appear in my lab class. He came through the door and stood in the corner as the graduate student was finishing some instruction. When she was finished, he came over and pulled up a chair to the table that I shared with Bob. He laid his grade book on the table.

“How are you doing today?” Dr. Hilliman asked.

“I’m doing fine,” I said. 

“I have been looking at my grade book,” Dr. Hilliman said. “You are doing quite well. Not the top of the class, but close.”

“I enjoy your class,” I said. “That makes it easy.”

“You are a little older than most of my students. Can you tell me a little about yourself?”

“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in Myrtle Point. I didn’t do well in my first couple of years of college. So I spent nearly 4 years in the Army. That gave me some maturity, some direction in my life, and a sense of responsibility to my fellow man.”

“The other day, when I said nobody had ever questioned me in class, I meant it. I all my years of teaching, nobody has stood up in my class like you did.”

“Everybody is afraid of you,” I said. “You intimidate them.”

“You’re a good student. A little anatomy test should not be an issue for you.”

“But it might be for some of your students,” I said. “Like I said in class, it’s not fair. The test is not fair, and your intimidation is not fair.”

Dr. Hilliman sort of recoiled at that statement.

“What makes you so different?” he asked.

“My experience base is a bit different than a lot of your students,” I said. “Fear and intimidation is no way to lead men, or women, for that matter.”

***

The test turned out to be no big thing. It was a snap, in fact. It was one of the few things I studied for that fall, and getting an A was the expected result.

Following the test, the lab instructor handed me a note. It was from Dr. Hilliman, with an invite to visit him in his office.

“I have never seen Dr. Hilliman take a personnel interest in an undergraduate student,” the lab instructor said. “Your standing alone, in the middle of the auditorium the other day, must have made quite an impression on him. Good luck with the meeting.”

In my remaining two years at Oregon State, Dr. Hilliman remained a good friend and advisor. Unlike his reputation, I found him a cheerleader for my progress and an excellent reference for my applications for veterinary school.

Photo by D. E. Larsen, DVM