D. E. Larsen, DVM

It was getting late in the evening when the phone rang. I looked at Sandy and frowned. A call at this hour on a Thursday night could only be an emergency.

“Are you going to answer it?” Sandy asked.

With a bit of reluctance, I got up and walked over to the phone. Not a fast walk, I was hoping it would stop ringing.

“Hello,” I said. “This is Dr. Larsen.”

“That’s pretty formal, talking to your brother,” Gary said. “I know it’s late, but I was just talking with Marty, and they are catching a lot of salmon over in the bay at Empire. We plan to put the boat in the water and fish on Saturday. I just thought you might want to come along.”

“This isn’t going to be like the last time, is it?” I asked. “Like when they were catching fish like mad on Wednesday, but when I got down there on Saturday, there were no fish.”

“The bay is full of fish returning to that commercial hatchery they built a few years ago,” Gary said. “They collected their quota, and the state made them close their gate for a full week. These fish have nowhere to go until they open those gates on Tuesday. There will be a lot of fish, but we should get some.”

“Are you going to have enough room for me to bring a kid to two along?” I asked. 

“Yes, Aaron’s busy and the girls aren’t interested, so there is plenty of room,” Gary said.

“Do I need to pick up some eggs, or anything?” I asked.

“They are using Buzz Bombs with a lot of success,” Gary said.

“Never heard of those things,” I said. 

“They are new, sort of wobbling lure,” Gary said. “You need to pick up several at a sporting goods store. They come in several sizes, get the biggest ones they have. Everyone is saying pink is the hottest color.”

“Okay, I will talk with you when we get to the folks,” I said. “I am guessing that Derek and Dee will want to fish.”

---

At noon on Friday, I stopped at DanDee Sales in Sweet Home. 

“I’m looking for some large pink Buzz Bombs,” I told the clerk.

“These things are pretty popular right now,” the clerk said. “They are using them in the bays this year. I only have four pink ones left, and they are the large, four-inch ones.”

“I’ll take all four,” I said. “Maybe I should ask what the cost is?”

“They are five and a half dollars each,” the clerk said.

“No wonder my brother wanted me to buy them,” I said. “Twenty-two dollars to maybe catch a fish. I don’t think that pencils out very well.”

---

Saturday morning came, and it was hard getting Derek and Dee up. They were tired from the 3-hour drive from Sweet Home to Broadbent, and they didn’t have to drive.

We got to Gary’s just as he was finishing loading the boat.

“I see some things never change,” Gary said. “You show up after all the work is done.”

“My passengers slowed me down a bit,” I said. “We were a little late getting out of the clinic. So that put us in to the folks at almost ten.”

We loaded into his old pickup and stopped in Myrtle Point to pick up Marty. It was a cool fall morning, but no rain. It should be a good day of fishing.

Just as Gary had warned, the bay was full of boats, and they all circled the entrance to the commercial hatchery.

We found our spot in the circle and set up to catch a bunch of fish. Gary gave a brief lesson on Buzz Bomb fishing to Dee and Derek.

“Cast this as fast as you can, let it settle to the bottom, then retrieve it in slow jerks,” Gary instructed. “Reel it up six or eight feet, then let it fall. Repeat that until you get it in. The bite will come as this falls back toward the bottom. It has a lot of action as it falls. Do you know how to cast, Derek?”

Derek looked annoyed at that question. He was only ten years old, but he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t fish.

“Yes, I can cast,” Derek said.

With that, the fishing started. And turn to form, there were no fish today. I watched the other boats. Nobody was catching fish.

Then, all of a sudden, just as Derek was pulling his Buzz Bomb out of the water, this massive salmon was after it, right at the edge of the boat. It looked like Derek just pulled the lure out of the fish’s mouth.

Derek saw the fish also. He instantly cast the Buzz Bomb right back into the water, about fifteen feet from the edge of the boat. The salmon immediately took the lure and dove toward deep water, stripping line off the reel.

Derek was able to hold him up a bit on this initial run, but it was evident that the water was too crowded to land this fish in this lineup of boats.

“Is that a big fish?” Gary asked.

“It’s a big chinook,” Marty said. “I got a good look at it. I think we should lead it out to the middle of the bay, where we will have room to get it in the boat.”

We pulled up the anchors and headed out to open water. Who was leading whom was an open question. This fish was headed out to deeper water, and we followed.

“Keep a tight line,” I reminded Derek. “And take up as much line as you can.”

Derek struggled to keep control of the fish. He was doing well, but tiring some.

“You know, you are going to have to take that pole sometime,” Gary said to me as we maneuvered the boat out to the middle of Coos Bay.

“I’m not taking that pole,” I said. “He is going catch that fish, or lose it, all on his own.”

The fight went on for a good twenty minutes. Finally, the fish was close to the surface, allowing us to get a good look at it.

“This is a big fish,” Marty said to Gary as he got ready with the net. “It’s almost dead in the water.”

With that statement, Derek leaned over the boat to look.

“It’s okay,” Marty said. “Just reel him in a little more, and I’ll get him in the net.”

The fish was played out, Marty scooped him into the net and put him in the bottom of the boat. Derek put his rod down, sat down, and looked at his tired hands. He had outlasted the fish, but not by much.

We fished the rest of the morning, with limited success. Marty managed to catch a nice salmon. It looked small lying beside Derek’s chinook in the fish box.

We stopped at the tackle shop in Coquille on the way and weighed Derek’s fish. It tipped the scales at thirty-five pounds. Pretty good for a ten-year-old kid.

---

The following week, I bumped into Jim Riggs, the principal at Foster Elementary School.

“Derek came through the front door with a pretty broad smile on Monday,” Jim said. “He had quite a fish story. Lucky kid, I wish I could catch a fish like that.”

“It might prove to be a two-edged sword,” I said. “He will spend a lifetime trying to match something that probably only happens once in a lifetime.”

Photo Credit: Kathy Larsen

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Some people actually thought that I was the boss. They seldom experienced the quiet, yet solid, push from the front desk regarding the clinic’s functions. Unless they had a collection account. Her domain encompassed all things not related to medicine. And most of the time, things ran like a well-oiled machine.

I had completed an exam on a cat with a bite wound that was brought in by new clients. The young couple was at the counter settling the bill with Sandy.

“We just moved to town,” Steve said. “I’m with the Forest Service. We will be looking for a house, just in case you know of anything available.”

“I don’t know of anything right now, but there are several good real estate offices between here and the Forest Service building,” Sandy said.

“Oh, and what about the app?” Steve asked as he looked at Ruth.

“Yes, I was going to pick up a job application if you have anything available,” Ruth said.

“I’m not sure what the Doctor is thinking right now,” Sandy said. “But we have been swamped. At the very least, we can keep the application on hand. Just a moment, and I will grab one.”

Sandy retrieved the application from the file cabinet in my office and chatted with Ruth a bit as she handed it to her.

“I will get it filled out and drop it off in the morning,” Ruth said as they made their way out the door.

Sandy stood, watching the young couple load the cat carrier into their car and pull out of the parking lot.

“I think we should hire her,” Sandy said as she sat back down. 

“You don’t know anything about her,” I said.

“They just moved to town, with a couple of young kids, and he works for the Forest Service,” Sandy said. “I would guess they will be here for a long time.”

“How do you gather all of that in a couple of minutes?” I asked. “You know, they are probably from California.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a girl thing,” Sandy said. “I just have a good feeling about her. I think you should hire her. You’re a good teacher. You can teach her everything she needs to do the job. And you worry too much about people from California.”

The following morning, Ruth dropped off her completed employment application. She spent ten or fifteen minutes talking with Sandy before leaving after Sandy told her we would give her a call after I had a chance to review the application.

When I had a brief break, Sandy handed me Ruth’s application

“You might want to review this,” Sandy said as she handed me the application.

“Is there anything in it that might change your mind?” I asked.

“No, it looks fine to me,” Sandy said. “I think we should hire her.”

“Why do you want me to review it then?” I asked. “You don’t think I would be able to overrule you, do you?”

“Then it is okay for me to call her and offer her a job?” Sandy asked.

“I thought you had already made that decision,” I said.

Ruth started work at the beginning of the following week. Initially, Sandy had her working on the front desk. We were in a period of transition in our record-keeping, and things were new to everyone.

Office computers were becoming practical for small offices. However, veterinary software was still out of reach for small-town practices. At the recommendation of a practice management advisor, I had added a computerized cash register, and we had a new Macintosh computer to keep track of client and patient numbers.

“I guess this new stuff is okay,” Sandy said. “But if we are going to have all this stuff in the cash register and on the computer, I want to make sure we keep a paper copy of everything.”

“Do you realize how much extra work that will require?” I asked.

“I don’t care, that is the way it is going to be done,” Sandy said as she turned and walked out of my office.

Of course, for the next thirty years, that is how it was done. There were a couple of times when it proved to be a good practice.

When she started work, Ruth confessed that she had never worked with a computer before.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The Mac is very intuitive. By the end of the day, you will be an old pro.”

One morning, a few weeks later, I noticed Ruth frantically searching through the computer desktop screen.

“Are you having a problem?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I did,” Ruth said with some tension in her voice. “I can’t find the client list.” 

I looked through the computer’s desktop. The client list was gone. 

“It’s gone,” I said. “You must have deleted it, somehow.”

“Oh no!” Ruth said. “What are we going to do now?”

“No problem,” I said as I retrieved the backup floppy disc from the drawer. “I back this computer up every night. I will restore the file, then you have to reenter the new files from this morning by using Sandy’s paper copies.”

That proved to be a good lesson for Ruth and for me. I hated to admit that Sandy’s paper backups served a useful role, and I never skipped an evening backup on the computer. Ruth learned to be more careful before clicking random buttons.

“Jim just called from Foster,” Ruth said to Sandy. “He is on his way with his cat. He says she has an abscess that just broke open.”

“Let’s check that file,” Sandy said. “I think Jim is a collection account from when we just started business. In fact, he might have been our first collection.”

Sandy had to go into the back to the old files, but she returned with Jim’s file. It had numerous red ink markings.

About that time, Jim came through the door. He had the cat wrapped in a towel. The towel was smeared with pus and blood.

“This cat needs some help, right away,” Jim said with tears welling up in his eyes.

“We have a little problem to settle first,” Sandy said with little emotion in her voice. “You have an unpaid balance from back in 1976. That has to be paid before services are available for you at this clinic.”

“That’s almost ten years ago,” Jim said. “I thought you were supposed to purge your records after seven years.”

“That might happen in some clinics, but it doesn’t happen here,” Sandy said as she sat down and busied herself straightening up the old file.

“How much do I owe?” Jim asked.

“With the collection fees, the total is one hundred and thirty dollars,” Sandy said. “And that doesn’t include any interest charges. If you pay it today, I’ll waive the interest charges. Otherwise, I will update the file, and you will also owe for the interest.”

“Okay, I have enough to pay the old bill,” Jim said. “Then I can charge today’s bill.

“It doesn’t work that way, Jim,” Sandy said. “The doctor trusted you with a handshake, and you have made no effort to pay this old bill. If you had paid five dollars a month, this would have been resolved years ago. Now, if you want the doctor to take care of your cat’s problem, you have to pay the old bill and the estimate for today in advance.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Jim said, his tears wiped away with the back of his bloodied hand. “All you guys worry about is the money.”

“The next clinic is fifteen miles down the road,” Sandy said. “I would suggest you call before you arrive. We have to pay wages, rent, medication costs, and make enough profit to feed the kids. If we don’t do that, we won’t be able to stay in business to help people who pay their bills. When you don’t pay, you are stealing from every one of our clients, not just from us.”

“I can’t go down the road,” Jim said. “I owe them money, too.

“That is not a surprise,” Sandy said, her voice now tiring of the conversation. “In that case, you had better hurry, Albany is over thirty miles.”

“Okay, I’ll go talk with my wife,” Jim said. “How much do you think I will need? And can I leave the cat here while I talk to her?”

“No, you are not trustworthy enough to leave a sick cat here,” Sandy said. “I can’t say for sure until the doctor writes an estimate, but I would guess you will need two hundred and fifty dollars, at least.”

Jim took his cat and went to speak with his wife. 

“What is going to happen to his cat if he doesn’t have the money?” Ruth asked.

“Most abscesses will heal on their own,” Sandy said. “It just takes a lot longer and puts the cat through a lot more pain. He probably can’t go to Albany either. In the last ten years, he has probably had a collection account with every veterinarian in the county. It’s the family names you will learn. Our collection accounts are filled with a dozen family groups. It is a lifestyle, they don’t pay for anything until their back is against the wall. Jim is going to be back in a few minutes with three hundred dollar bills, you watch.”

Sure enough, Sandy and Ruth had no more than finished the conversation when Jim came back through the door.

“Okay, my wife had three hundred dollar bills,” Jim said as he handed Sandy the bills. “If I can leave the cat, I assume he will be ready in the morning, and we can do the receipts when I pick him up.”

“Let’s have the doctor get a look at him first,” Sandy said.

I examined Jim’s cat, Tom. He had an open abscess that just needed to be cleaned up and some antibiotics. His main problem was his set of testicles. 

“I can take care of this abscess and send you home with some antibiotics for Tom and some change in your pocket,” I said. “If I do that, you will be back with another abscess before summer comes. Since you are clearing up an old bill, I can make you a deal. I will throw in some brain surgery and vaccinations, and keep the total under the three hundred you put on account. There won’t be much change, but you might be able to buy a beer or two.”

“What do you mean by brain surgery, Doc?” Jim asked. 

“If we neuter Tom, it will change the way he looks at the world,” I said. “He is still a young tomcat, so his fighting days will probably be behind him. If we leave those testicles, he is going to continue to be out there fighting with the boys. Tomcats tend to have a lot of infections, and in the end, they don’t live very long.”

“You will do that for me, after I didn’t pay my bill years ago?” Jim asked.

“See how good things happen when you become a responsible pet owner,” I said. “Your neighbors are probably going to be happy when Tom is neutered and quits beating up their cats.”

“Okay, do what you need to do, and I will be back in the morning to pick him up,” Jim said. “And you might want to apologize to the lady out front for me. I gave her a bit of a hard time, trying to get something for nothing.”

“Sandy is a pretty tough girl,” I said. “My bet she gave it right back to you.”

“Yes, she did a good job at that, alright,” Jim said. “I will speak to her when I leave. Thanks, Doc!”

Jim stopped at the front counter as he was leaving.

“Sandy, I’m sorry I was so ornery earlier,” Jim said. “You and the Doc are okay. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Ruth smiled as Jim went out the door.

“My, what a change of character,” Ruth said. “I wonder what brought that on?”

So, Tom went home in the morning with his wound cleaned and an entirely new man. A few days of antibiotics and he was as good as new. Many would say better.

As our computer use in the practice progressed, we continued to maintain a paper backup of all our work. It seemed unnecessary to me, but it was not worth the battle with Sandy. We did shorten the time we maintained the paper backup to about three months.

Ruth remained a valuable employee for many years. She progressed to a licensed veterinary technician before moving to Eugene.

Photo Credit: D. E. Larsen, DVM

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I tried to be impartial with my patients. But Bob was definitely special, and to be honest, one of my favorites.

Bob wasn’t much to look at. He was a true mutt. Looked like a cross between a spaniel and a corgi, with maybe a little coyote thrown in for good measure. His short legs looked out of place on his body. A gnarled right ear and a left ear that stood up gave him a lopsided appearance. His right eye was present, but the lids were so scarred that you had to look closely for the eyeball.  His legs and shoulders were also marred with scars, telling of a rough early life.

To Howard, Bob had become his reason for existence since his wife, Dorothy, had passed away a few years ago. I never saw Howard without Bob by his side. It didn’t matter where, in the clinic or around town.

Today, Bob was sitting between Howard’s legs when I entered the exam room.

“What’s up with Bob today?” I asked as I reached down and scratched Bob’s gnarled right ear. This was my regular greeting for Bob. He would press his head against my hand to acknowledge the greeting.

“He is getting so arthritic anymore, he can hardly get around,” Howard said. “I have to lift him into and out of my pickup, and he can’t do stairs at home. If you need to look at him today, Doc, I was hoping you could do it on the floor. I don’t think he can get comfortable on that table.”

“How old do you figure Bob is getting to be?” I asked. “Looking at his record, we just have a guess for a birthdate. It says late 1960s.”

“I don’t know that I can get closer than that,” Howard said. “He was full-grown when he staggered up to our old house on the river. And I think we moved out of that house before the son graduated from high school. And that was 1968. He was a real mess then, Doc. I always figured he must have been in a fight with a coyote, but who knows. That was before you came to town. I couldn’t get anyone to look at him, so I just did the best I could. He lived, but all the scars and his ear just added character to him.”

“So it is possible that he was born in 1965,” I said. “That means he could be pushing twenty.”

“I know, Doc,” Howard said, looking down at Bob. “He can’t last forever. However, I’ve heard that you have a new medicine that helps these old dogs. If we can help him, I want to do that. If not, I don’t want him to suffer like he is doing now.”

“The problem is these old dogs just don’t live long enough,” I said. “And their bodies give out before their heart most of the time. I have an injection that is used in horses for pain and inflammation. It’s not approved for dogs, but many veterinarians are using it in special cases. It might be something we could try on Bob.”

“Do you think it is safe, Doc?” Howard asked.

“It is safe for horses,” I said. “And works wonders in many cases. It is called Banamine. It is a class of drugs we haven’t had access to before. There are risks involved. It is hard on the kidneys and can cause some gut problems. I haven’t used it on a dog, but if we are talking about making Bob feel better or putting him to sleep, it might be something to try.”

“Kidneys and gut are two pretty important things, Doc,” Howard said. “I don’t know, Bob doesn’t need to be a guinea pig in his last days. Maybe we will go home and spend some special time while I come to grips with what needs to be done.”

“The choice is a hard one, Howard,” I said. “I see all sorts of things, some good and some not so good. The best advice I can give is it is better to be a day too soon rather than a day too late.”

“When I make the decision, Doc, I’m not going to be able to do it,” Howard said. “Can I send my son?”

“Howard, we will do anything you want,” I said. “I could come out to the house if you want.”

“No, Bob enjoys coming here and getting his ear rubbed,” Howard said.  “I will just send him with my son, and he can stay with him. That will work the best.”

Howard scooped Bob up and carried him out the door, too upset to worry about the bill at this point. He carefully put him on the passenger seat. 

***

It was three days later when Howard’s son brought Bob into the clinic for euthanasia. After he had finished the paperwork, Sandy ushered him and Bob into the exam room.

Harold was holding Bob in his arms when I stepped into the exam room.

“Dad wanted me to stay with Bob for this thing we are doing today,” Harold said. “But Doc, I can’t do it. Can you tell Dad that I stayed?”

“That’s fine, Harold,” I said. Bob and I are old friends, he will be fine with me today. We just won’t say anything. You can just hand him to me and leave.”

“Dad is pretty broken up,” Harold said. “Bob has been his whole life since Mom passed. Do you think I should get him another pup?”

“Some dogs can’t be replaced,” I said. “I think you just let your Dad make that decision.”

Harold left, and with Ruth’s help, and with me scratching his ear, Bob peacefully drifted off.

***

It was less than two weeks later when I noticed Howard in the reception area. He was holding a small Cocker Spaniel who looked like she had missed a few meals. I stepped out front to see how he was doing.

“Howard, I am not surprised to see you, but this pup is a little bit of a surprise,” I said.

“I just dropped by to make an appointment for next week,” Howard said. “I will have my check by then so I can give you some money.”

“Who do you have here?” I asked as I reached out and scratched the pup’s right ear. She leaned against my hand as I rubbed.

“This little gal just walked up our lane and made herself at home,” Howard said. “Not unlike what Bob did so many years ago. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in a week or two. I just couldn’t send her away.”

“That’s great, Howard,” I said. “It is probably just what you need since Bob is gone.”

“Yes, she definitely fills a big void,” Howard said. “Actually, I think Dorothy sent her.”

“What are you going to name her?” Sandy asked.

“I have been calling her Dot,” Howard said. “That’s what I always called Dorothy, when it was just the two of us.”

Photo Credit: Photo by freestocks on Unsplash.