The Round Robin 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Deacon opened the letter carefully, she was hoping to be able to reuse the envelope. Inside there were four small sheets of paper, she removed them almost reverently.

“You kids come in here and I will read the letters,” Deacon said “And bring your little brother.”

“He can’t even talk,” Larry said. “Why does he have to listen to the letters?”

“That is how he will learn to talk,” Deacon said as Linda was arranging the chairs around the kitchen table.

“I don’t think he will ever talk,” Linda said.

It was 1943 and World War II was in full force. On the Home Front, gas rationing was one way everyone could participate in the war effort. Frank and Dolores (Deacon) Larsen were living up Coos River, out of Coos Bay. A trip to Myrtle Point to visit with family required save ration tickets to allow enough gas to for the trip. It also distracted from the Home Front effort to help the war effort.

Catching Creek was heavily invested in the war effort. Stan Felsher was missing in action in The Philippines, actually dead at the time but that was not confirmed by the military. Bob Lundy was on a flight crew in the Pacific. The Bartlett boys, Gene and Phillip were in the Navy. Gene was on a ship and Phillip was flying a fighter in the Pacific. Ernie was in flight training in Texas to fly bombers. The Home Front was their way of supporting those young men by actions, rather than just words.

In response to this forced isolation, the large Davenport family adopted  a plan the titled The Round Robin, that was a common mode of communication during those dark years of war.

Some would start a letter and include all their family news, maybe some local gossip, war news and the like. They would mail the letter to a family member. The second person would add their letter to the envelope and send it on. By the time the letter made it around the family, it was a treasure trove of information. Not quite the same as a family dinner at Grandmas, but the best substitute they could devise.

With the kids all seated around the kitchen, Deacon started to read the letter. Actually, she read it to herself and paraphrased it for the kids.

“Grandma is sending a package to Uncle Ernie in Texas,” Deacon said.

“Mom, Why is Uncle Ernie in Texas?” Larry asked.

“He is learning to fly airplanes to fight in the war,” Deacon said. “And Aunt Lila and Uncle Robert are planning to go to San Diego to work building ships for the war.”

“When is the war going to be over?” Linda asked as she helped Gary out of his high chair.

“We don’t know how long it will last,” Deacon said as Gary toddled off into the front room. “That is way it is with a war. We just never know when it will end.”

“When do we get to go see Grandma again?” Linda asked. “I miss her.”

“We have to save our gas ration so we have enough gas to go visit,” Deacon said. “It is over thirty miles to Grandma’s house, and they need most of our gas for the men fighting the war. You want Uncle Ernie to have enough gas for his airplane, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s hard not being able to see Grandma,” Linda said. “Are you going to tell everybody about how good Gary is walking now.”

“Yes, that will be a good thing to add to the letter,” Deacon said.

“And tell about Dad bringing home a branch from the huckleberry bush where he works,” Larry said.

About this time there was a loud crash in the front room and a squall from Gary. Everyone rushed in to find Gary in the middle of a pile of boxes that Frank and Dolores had stacked in the corner.

“I wonder how high he got be they all came tumbling down?” Linda said.

“That’s the second time he h

as fallen from his climbing,” Deacon said. “I would think he would learn to keep his feet on the ground one of these days.”

“He just seems to be a slow learner,” Larry said.

“You kids take care of your brother,” Deacon said. “I will write our notes on the letter and get it ready to mail. I just hope I still have a stamp in the drawer.”

Deacon penned her notes on the back of the last slip of paper and carefully folded it and placed it in a new envelope. She addressed it to Duke and Jean Davenport, and placed a three cent stamp on the envelope.

“Larry, you take this out and put it in the mailbox before the mailman comes,” Deacon said. “And make sure you put the flag up so he will know there is a letter to send.”

“How come a letter cost three cents?” Larry asked. “The postcard we got yesterday from Auntie Dee only had a penny stamp on it.”

“You can only write a little note on a post card, and this letter contains a lot of those notes,” Deacon said. “Now, you hurry out to the mailbox so we don’t miss the mailman. The sooner this letter is mailed, the sooner we will a reply with all the other messages.”

It would be a long week before the same letter would make its second appearance with all the notes from everyone in the family. And Grandma would be starting a new letter.

It served its purpose, probably not as functional as a zoom meeting, but for a couple of three cent stamps, the Larsen family were kept informed of all the goings on the entire family group. And Gary grew up with acrophobia.

Drunken Hounds 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I stood in the driveway, waiting for Jeremy to come out of the house, and I could see several hounds in the large kennel behind the house. They were staggering around, just like Jeremy described in his call.

I watched as Jeremy made his way out of the back door of the house. He was a young man, no more than twenty years old, he was well-built and fit. He probably got plenty of exercise following these hounds.

“Hi, Jeremy,” I said as I extended my hand. “I can see a couple of your hounds staggering around in the kennel. How long has that been going on?”

“Like I told your gal on the phone, it just started this afternoon,” Jeremy said. “It is the whole bunch of them. They look like they have been out drinking all night.”

When we got back to the kennel, I could see Jeremy had six hounds, and they were all in some state of neurological dysfunction. They were all on their feet but staggering, and at least two hounds were pressing against the kennel fence, trying to stabilize themselves.

“And you say they were fine this morning?” I asked.

“Yes, they were fine,” Jeremy said. “I fed them about six this morning, and they bounced around like nothing was wrong. They cleaned up their food in a few minutes, just like they always do.”

“And nothing else happened?” I asked.

“Well, now that you ask, I did give them some worm medicine,” Jeremy said. “But the guy at the feed store said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“What did you give them?” I asked.

“Just a minute. I will get the bottle out of the trash,” Jeremy said as he ran back into the house.

Jeremy returned with an empty plastic bottle in his hands a few moments later. He handed me the bottle.

“I have been seeing worms in their stool almost every day,” Jeremy said. “The guy at the feed store said this was a good wormer.”

I read the label on the bottle, Piperazine Pig Wormer Concentrate.

“How did you give this?” I asked.

“The directions talk about milligrams and kilograms and the like,” Jeremy said. “That didn’t mean much to me. The guy at the feed store said they sell it all the time, and it was safe. I just dumped the whole bottle into their water bucket.”

“You used this whole bottle?” I asked.

“Was that too much?” Jeremy said. “Are these guys going to be okay?”

“Let’s get that water bucket out of there first,” I said. “Rinse it out and put some fresh water in the kennel. Piperazine is a good dewormer for roundworms, but it can cause some neurological problems at high doses. I think you overdosed these guys. The worms in the stools are probably tapeworms, and Piperazine doesn’t help against tapeworms.”

“What are we going to need to do for my hounds?” Jeremy asked.

“There is no antidote,” I said. “This will wear off, just like cheap whiskey. They are all up and okay. They just need to sleep it off. You need to come to the clinic and pick up some Yomesan tablets for the tapeworms. It will be a little more expensive, but it will work. Most of the tapeworms we see around here come from the flea. The flea larvae eat the tapeworm eggs, and the dog eats the fleas.”

“I don’t think my dogs have fleas,” Jeremy said.

“Jeremy, I have been in the valley long enough to know that all dogs have fleas around here,” I said. “You sound like some of the old ladies I see. In the summer, all these dogs will have fleas unless you are treating them every few days.”

“I guess you’re right. I know when I put flea collars on them a couple of years ago, they had more problems scratching the butts than they did without the collars,” Jeremy said.

“Yes, that little cloud of protection that the flea collar gives off is about three feet behind these active dogs,” I said. “They do a good job around the head and neck, and all the fleas live back on the dog’s rear end.”

“Okay, I’ll change their water and watch them,” Jeremy said. “Do I need to do anything other than come pick up some pills for tapeworms.”

“That’s it,” I said. “These dogs should be improved by this evening. If they aren’t, or if any of them get worse, you give me a call. And don’t get in too big of a hurry to worm them for tapeworms. Let’s let their systems rest for a few days.”

Jeremy’s hounds were much improved by evening and entirely back to normal the following day. Jeremy came by the clinic, and I spent a few minutes discussing flea control in the Willamette Valley as it existed in the 1970s. And he picked up his supply of Yomasen tablets.

I talked with Stan at the feed store to make sure he cautioned folks to follow the medication label and call someone if they didn’t understand it.

Photo by Sandi Mager on Unsplash.

A Perfect Delivery, From the Archives

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I glanced out in the waiting area and could see Emma waiting to talk with me. Emma was an attractive young girl with light brown shoulder-length hair that she wore in a ponytail. I think she was still in high school, probably a junior or senior.

Emma had a young mare, Lilly, due to foal most any time now. Emma was doing everything in her power to provide the perfect setting for the delivery. In doing so, she has been talking my leg off. She had been talking with me a couple of times a week for the last month. Most of the time, that was okay, I did a lot of work for her father.

When I stepped out to the front counter, she bounced up.

“My father says I have been bothering you too much and not paying you a fair fee,” she said. “So I want you to make a farm call and check out the birthing facility I have set up. I have moved a bed into the barn, and I will be sleeping there until Lilly foals.”

“You tell your father I am always willing to provide whatever instruction I am capable of to our clients and their families,” I said.

“I know that, and so does he. We just thought maybe you should check over what I have set up, just to make sure I am not missing something. I want this to be perfect.”

“That sounds fine. You can schedule a time with Sandy. It is probably a good thing, we have covered a lot of topics over the last month or so.”

“I have a checklist from those discussions and from reading in Horse and Rider magazines.”

“You know, Emma, a lot of mares will be reluctant to foal if they are being watched,” I said.

“But she is so ready, all the signs are there,” Emma said. “She is leaking milk, and her privates are really swollen and flabby. And her due date is tomorrow. I am taking off school tomorrow, and Thursday, and Friday if she hasn’t foaled by then.”

“They have their own clock, and don’t be surprised if you don’t go to the house for dinner or something and come back to a foal standing in the stall,” I said. “But, you schedule a time, and I can get out there this afternoon and see what you have set up.”

The Pedersen farm was anything but neat. The barn was a large old barn, once painted red, that set a hundred yards behind the house. With all the work on the farm, Mr. Pedersen didn’t have a lot of extra time to worry about mowing the lawn. Emma was the oldest of 5 girls, and I don’t think any of them helped around the barn much unless it was with Emma’s horse.

I drove past the house and parked the truck by the barn. Emma came out of a small attached shed on the house side of the barn. Her younger sister was by her side, Sara was 7 years old, and she was often around when we were working with the cows. Both girls were all smiles, and you could tell that the pending birth was going to be an exciting event for them.

I was literally blown away when Emma and Sara led me into the shed with the horse stall. It was immaculate. There was not a cobweb in the tallest rafter. She had a well-made cot in the corner with a desk and bookcase nearby. Then she had a small refrigerator on a shelf for medication and supplies.

Lilly was in a sizable stall that was bedded entirely with straw. There was a pitchfork by the stall gate and not a trace of soiled straw in the stall.

“Do you think the straw is clean enough?” Emma asked. “I have worried about that, but I don’t know what else there is that I could use.”

“The straw is fine,” I said. “It is far better than most foals get.”

“Emma thinks that it is going to be born tonight,” Sara said. “I want to bring a sleeping bag out here, but Mom won’t let me.”

“Your mother is probably right,” I said, “it is a school night. When mares have their babies, it is usually a pretty fast event. You would probably sleep right through it.”

“I just worry about all the little things,” Emma said. “The magazines talk about all sorts of problems. Things like navel infections I can feel confident that I have under control by dipping the navel with iodine. They talk about foals suffocating in their membranes. Stuff like that where you have to there to help, or you lose a foal.

“You have things just about as perfect as they can be, Emma,” I said. “Those stories like the foal suffocating in the membranes are just stories. Most of those foals were probably stillbirths. Things happen fast when mares foal and most of the foals are not going to allow any membranes to hang around on their heads. Horses have been doing this a long time before people got involved in the process. Being here to watch is okay, but you don’t want to do anything unless there is a problem. And then you should call me first if you can.”

“Okay, I will relax a little,” Emma said. “At least you have made me feel a little less concerned. It is just that I want everything to be perfect with this delivery.”

“And Emma, don’t worry if she doesn’t foal tonight,” I said. “Mares will often hold off their labor if there is too much observation. The big horse ranches usually monitor their mares in labor with remote cameras.”

“Okay, but you know I am going to call you if anything looks unusual.”

With that, I returned to the office, and Emma sort of faded into the background for a time. Wednesday came and went with no call.

By Friday afternoon, I had just about forgotten about Emma and her mare. Then the phone rang.

Sandy answered the phone and quickly handed it to me. There was a very frantic Emma on the other end of the line.

“Dr. Larsen, you have to come quick!” she said. 

Then the phone was silent for a moment before little Sara picked it up.

“Lilly had her baby out in the shit pile,” Sara said. “Emma is pretty upset. Can you come?”

“You tell Emma that I am on my way and that things are going to be alright,” I said.

The entire family was out in the barnyard when I arrived. The mare and the foal were both up and looked like they were doing okay. Emma had a halter and a lead rope on Lilly.

“It is all my fault,” Emma said with tears streaming down her face. “I was cleaning the stall and left the gate ajar. Lilly ran past me and out the gate. She picked the dirtiest place in the barnyard, right on the pile of straw and manure from the last 2 weeks of stall cleaning. She laid down and popped that foal out before I could do anything.”

Lilly was stepping sideways with her hind feet, bothered by the membranes still hanging out of her. About that time, the membranes came out with one big flop, and she stepped away.

I picked up the membranes and spread them out on the ground to show Emma how to check that the entire afterbirth came out.

“In cows, we don’t worry too much about retained membranes these days. As long as the cow is doing okay. But in the horse it is an entirely different story and it is important to check that both off these ends are intact. Otherwise, we need to go in and get the retained pieces.”

“Now, let’s clean this little gal up and take care of her naval and her E-Se injection,” I said. “Then, we can take care of Lilly.”

By the time we were done, and we had Lilly and the foal back in their stall, Emma had calmed down a little. 

“What should I watch for now?” Emma asked.

“You should watch for a normal baby,” I said. “Don’t worry unless there is something to worry about. You have a long way to go in this life, Emma, if this little hiccup today is the worst you have to deal with, you will be a lucky young lady.”

Photo by Helder Sato of Pexels