Widow Woman’s Ranch, From the Archives

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I could see Dan waiting at the gate to the barnyard when I pulled into his driveway off of Pleasant Valley Road. There was still some snow on the ground from a late spring snowfall, and it added a chill to the air.

“Dan, I got the message that you wanted me to stop by, but I didn’t get any other information,” I said as I extended my hand.

Dan shook my hand. His hands were heavily calloused, and his fingers bent from arthritis. I am sure his handshake was much firmer in past years.

“I want you to look at my old horse, Joe,” Dan said. “This time of the year, I keep him in the barn. I’ve noticed that he has one heck of a time eating. He takes a mouthful of grain, and more of it dribbles back into the feed rack than he swallows.”

“That might be something pretty simple,” I said. “How long has it been since his teeth have been floated?”

“They probably have never been floated, since I don’t know what that means.”

“The horse’s teeth continue to erupt throughout their life. They wear against themselves, and sometimes, when they get a few years on their mouth, they develop sharp points on the edge of the teeth that need to be filed off.”

“You just say, open wide, I guess,” Dan said.

“Some horses object to the procedure more than others, but we have a little device to help hold the mouth open. Some horses stand right there and let it happen, some need a twitch, and then there are a few who need some drugs to help them relax.”

“Joe, he’s a pretty mellow old horse. He’s sort of like Mom and me. He was a lot prettier twenty years ago than he is today.”

“Let’s go get a look at Joe,” I said.

“I’m a little embarrassed to take you into the barn,” Dan said. “This place looks like a widow woman’s ranch anymore. I’m too damn old to keep it up anymore. Our son, Stan, died in that war, and our daughter doesn’t live close. She tries to help some. But you probably know how it is when you are working and have a young family. There is just so much time you have to give to the old man.”

“I’m sorry about your son. There were far too many young men lost over there. I was in the Army for four years, but I was able to avoid Vietnam. I had a good friend who came home in a box, though. I am glad that it is over.”

Dan didn’t respond to my comment. He busied himself with the gate that we had stopped at on the driveway leading to the barn. Dan was having some trouble untying some baling twine that held the gate closed.

“I’ve never heard the term, ‘widow woman’s ranch’,” I said.

“Nothing is fixed. All the fences lean this way or that. Everything is held together by baling wire or twine. The wire lasts a lot longer than the twine, but they don’t bale hay with wire much anymore. Or maybe, I just don’t buy alfalfa much anymore. Twenty years ago, I would’ve replaced any leaning post. Or at least, reset it. Now I just support it with a mesh made out of twine. It is a good thing I don’t have much stock anymore. We feed out a steer for meat, for ourselves, and our daughter’s family. And then there is Joe. And Joe knows he doesn’t want to get out. He’s got it made here, three square meals a day, and nothing is expected in return. Even the grandkids don’t seem to want to ride him anymore.”

I helped Dan with the large barn door. We had to lift it a bit, and then it would slide. It looked like the rollers needed a little grease, but I wasn’t going to say anything. 

I was shocked at the inside of the barn. It was immaculate, like stepping into a barn twenty years in the past.

“I try to keep this place like Stan would remember it,” Dan said.

Joe was in a large stall. He whinnied and tossed his head happily.

Joe was old, a buckskin. He was probably a striking horse in his day. Now his face was grayed, and his muscle mass was fading.

“Let’s get a halter on him so I can look at that mouth,” I said as I reached for a halter and lead rope hanging on a hook at the gate leading into the stall.

“Don’t use that one,” Dan said. “Stan hung that one there the last time he rode Joe before going to Vietnam. Joe was Stan’s horse, you see. Joe is the only connection I have to Stan. I worry what will happen to him if this old guy outlives me.”

I could see some moisture in Dan’s eyes as he spoke. I had to look away for a moment and take a couple of deep breaths before I tried to talk.

“I’m sure your daughter will take care of Joe,” I said.

“She has nowhere to keep him, but I guess she could find someone to take care of him. I have it all spelled out. I have a place picked out for him behind the barn. Joe and I go out at times and talk about how things used to be when Stan was around.”

I grabbed the old halter that Dan had been holding and stepped into the stall. I needed to get to work to change the subject.

Joe nuzzled me when I slipped the halter over his nose. I tied the lead to a ring hanging on the feed rack. Joe had no problem when I ran my index finger along the insides of his cheeks to feel the points on his back teeth.

I grabbed Joe’s tongue and pulled it to the side, causing Joe to open his mouth a little. With a small penlight, I got a good view of the left side of his mouth. Switching hands and pulling the tongue to the other side, I viewed the right side of his mouth.

Joe had jagged points on the inside of his lower cheek teeth and the outside of his upper teeth. I could see sores on both sides of his tongue and on the inside of both cheeks. Joe should feel much better with these teeth floated.

Joe was remarkably tolerant. I grabbed his tongue and inserted the float in the left side of his mouth. With long slow strokes of the float blade, you could hear the points disappear as the sound went from a rough rasping sound to a smooth, almost silent sound. I finished the floating in a couple of minutes.

I smiled as I felt Joe’s teeth after I was done.

“These are as smooth as can be now. I think you’ll see a big difference for Joe.” 

“I hope so. I am a little surprised that Joe wasn’t bothered by that whole thing,” Dan said.

“Yes, he is pretty exceptional to stand there and take it with no restraint and no speculum.”

“Do you think he is going to be able to eat now?”

“I think you’ll find he is a new horse. But to be sure, I’ll check with you in a few days.”

***

I was driving by Dan’s place a few days later, and when I noticed him coming out of the barn, I stopped to ask about Joe.

“Good morning, Dan,” I said. “I just wanted to check on how Joe was eating after I worked on him the other day.”

“He’s doing great. Doesn’t dribble a bit of grain. I think he enjoys eating now. If I had known that was a problem, I would’ve had you do his teeth a long time ago.”

“At his age, we should plan to check him every year, just to keep him as comfortable as we can for his old age.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Dan said. “I’ll try to remember to give you a call.”

***

It was probably 3 years later when Dan gave me a call. He wouldn’t talk to Sandy when she answered the phone. He only wanted to talk with me.

“Doc, this is a terrible day for me,” Dan said. “I think I need you to come and put Joe to sleep for me. He sliped going out of the barn the other day, and he must have hurt a hip or something. He can hardly walk.”

“Do you want me to examine him first?” I asked. “It could be something simple that we help with some medication.”

“No, I think it is time for him to go see Stan. I’ve already had a neighbor over. He dug a hole with his backhoe, out behind the barn, under that big maple tree.”

“When do you want to do this, Dan?” I asked.

“The sooner, the better, do you have time to come now?”

“I’ll make time, Dan. I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”

Dan was waiting for me at the Barn door. I helped him with the door again. Joe was lying down when we entered the barn. It was quite a struggle for him to get on his feet.

Dan had tears in his eyes and one running down his left cheek.

“Can you get Stan’s halter down for me?” Dan asked. “This getting old stuff is no fun for me either.”

I remembered that Dan didn’t want to use this halter when I was out before to look at Joe.

“You want the one that Stan hung up?” I asked.

“Yes, we are going to bury him with it. I figure that is what Stan would have wanted.”

I carefully, almost reverently, lifted the halter and lead rope off the hook. Dan took it and held it close to his chest as he walked through the gate to Joe’s stall. Joe snickered softly as he smelled the halter. Dan slipped in on the halter and patted Joe on the neck.

“We can go out the back door,” Dan said as he started Joe toward the door. Joe was hardly bearing any weight on his right hind leg. Dan was correct. It was probably time.

Dan lead Joe out and had him lying down by the large hole that was recently dug. 

“He knows the routine. I’ve been bringing him out on good days for the last year. He lays down, and I sit here with him, and we talk about the old days.”

“Dan, do you want to stay for this?” I asked. “You could wait in the house or the barn.”

“No, Joe wants me to be here. It’s okay, Doc. Joe’s going to see Stan.”

“This is pretty fast stuff. I’m going to give him an injection to sedate him a little. Then, when I give him the big injection, he’ll be gone in an instant.”

“Okay, let’s get it done.”

Joe went quietly, resting his nose on Dan’s legs when he was sedated.

Dan shed a couple of tears, patted Joe’s neck, and stood up.

“Do you need me to help to put him in the hole?” I asked.

“No, the neighbor is going to come back with his backhoe. Our daughter will be here before too long. She and her husband will be able to take care of everything. You can stop at the house, and Sue will give you a check.”

“There’s no charge for this, Dan. Stan paid the bill some time ago.”

I walked back to the truck alone, leaving Dan to pay his last respects to Joe. I sat in the truck for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and dried my eyes before pulling out onto the road.

Photo by Idella Maeland on Unsplash

It’s a Wire Cut 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

The phone rang a second time. I looked at Sandy and Dixie, but they made no move to answer it. I looked at the clock. It said five fifteen. The phone rang a third time this Friday afternoon.

“It’s a wire cut,” I said as I reached for the phone.

“How do you know that?” Sandy asked.

“It’s after five on Friday,” I said. “This is a wire cut that happened on Tuesday, and she needs it sewn up tonight, so she can go riding tomorrow.”

I picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Doctor Larsen,” I said into the phone.

“Oh, Doctor, I am so glad I caught you,” Wendy said. “Bullet has nasty-looking wire cut on the right front leg.”

“Did this just happen?” I asked.

“No, Bob said he saw it Tuesday night,” Wendy said. “I have been busy at work and couldn’t take time off during the week. I was lucky that I could get off a little early to get here to call you.”

“Where is this cut located?” I asked.

“It’s on his right front leg, near his elbow,” Wendy said. “It looks infected, it is all puffy, and there is some yellow stuff in the wound. It is almost two inches long.”

“Being three days old and on the upper leg, it can wait until morning,” I said.

“Doctor, it is so infected. I’m afraid it is an emergency,” Wendy said. “I was hoping you could run out here this evening and take care of it. I am supposed to go riding in the morning.”

“Wendy, It was an emergency on Tuesday, and maybe even on Wednesday,” I said. “On Friday evening, at best, it is a convenience call. It is not an emergency to look at a wound that has been neglected for three days. Especially a wound that can be treated as an open wound with little difference in the outcome.”

“Doctor Larsen, I did not neglect this wound,” Wendy said. “I was just too busy to deal with it. I would appreciate it if you could look at it this afternoon.”

“I can look at it, but there will be an after-hours fee,” I said. 

“But you are still at the office. Why should I have to pay extra?” Wendy said.

“Because it is almost five thirty, and this is not an emergency,” I said. “Otherwise, I could look at the first thing in the morning.”

“Okay, I will pay the extra fee if you can come tonight,” Wendy said. “But I won’t be able to pay you tonight.”

Sandy handed me Wendy’s account card. When we charged her in the past, it was always over ninety days before she paid.

“You know our policy is payment at the time of service,” I said.

“Yes, but this is an emergency,” Wendy said.

“Wendy, this is not an emergency,” I said. “This wound can be handled as an open wound with very little difference in the healing. You can come to the office in the morning and pick up some medication, and I can give you some instructions on treating this wound.”

“My friend thought it should have sutures,” Wendy said.

“It is three days old and in a location that heals in spite of how it is handled,” I said. “If your funds are limited, I suggest treating it like an open wound. You can do that, or I can come out first thing in the morning and show you how to do it.”

“Okay, Doctor, I will be here at eight,” Wendy said. “I think I can convince my friends to a little later start for our ride tomorrow.”

***

Wendy was waiting with Bullet tied to a fence post when I pulled up in the morning.

“Good morning, Wendy,” I said. “Let’s look at this wire cut so you can get on your ride.”

This cut was actually above Bullet’s elbow. It was just over two inches and didn’t appear to be into the muscle tissue. There was some minor swelling, but not anything that was a problem.

“I have to be honest with you, Wendy,” I said. “If you did nothing with cut, it would heal just fine. I will clean it up, shave the hair away from the wound, and give you some ointment to keep on it. There is a little swelling, so I will give Bullet a long-acting penicillin injection. I don’t think he will need any more antibiotics. I will also booster his tetanus vaccination.”

“Your sure it will heal?” Wendy asked. “When Susie looked at it, she thought it needed sutures.”

“Tuesday night, I would have sutured it,” I said. “After two or three days, there is a good chance that the sutures would break down. Then you would have put a lot of expense in the surgery just to get back to treating it like an open wound.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Wendy said.

I scrubbed the wound with some warm water and betadine scrub. Then with my shoulder firmly planted in Bullet’s side, I swabbed the wound firmly to remove all the accumulated exudate. Bullet never flinched.

“Now, I’m going to shave the wound edge,” I said to Wendy. “In wound treatment, if you can only do one thing, it should be to get the hair away from the wound.”

With the wound cleaned up, it didn’t look nearly as bad. Wendy looked at it closely.

“It doesn’t look bad now,” Wendy said.

“I’ll apply a little Furacin ointment,” I said. “I will leave you this small jar. You should do this once or twice daily for a week or so. By then, this will be nearly closed up, and you can relax on the treatment.”

I gave Bullet an injection of long-acting penicillin and tetanus vaccination.

“Why does he need a tetanus booster?” Wendy asked. “I give him a vaccination every year.”

“The horse is pretty susceptible to tetanus,” I said. “The protocol is an annual vaccination and then a booster with any wound. Failing to do that, I would be in jeopardy of a malpractice lawsuit, and Bullet would be less protected.”

“Have you ever seen a case of tetanus?” Wendy asked.

“Oh, yes, and most of those just die,” I said. “I have talked with a couple of veterinarians who say they have saved horses when they were given a blank check on treatment expenses. I have never seen that happen, but I am sure it does.”

“Can I ride him today?” Wendy asked.

“I don’t think he will notice this cut,” I said. “You noticed that he didn’t object to my treatment. Riding him will probably make his muscle feel better.”

“And I can give you a check this morning,” Wendy said. “However, it would be better if you could wait till the end of the month before depositing it.”

“That will make Sandy feel better,” I said. “I will make sure she gives you a call before she deposits it. And if you are concerned about how this wound is coming along, you give me a call.”

***

Bullet’s wound healed nicely. In fact, Wendy was surprised that there was almost no scar when it was healed. And Sandy deposited her check on the first of the month, and it went through with no problems.

Photo by Jacque B on Pexels.

Her Blanket is Missing 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I rolled over and looked at the clock; it was one thirty. Then the phone rang again. Yesterday had been a hectic day. I was tempted to let the phone ring, but Sandy elbowed me in the ribs.

“Hello, this is Dr. Larsen,” I said into the phone.

“I’m so sorry to wake you up, Doc,” the female voice answered. “This is Barbara, and Sierra’s blanket is missing.”

Barbara was a good client and a breeder of registered Malamutes. Most months, she visited the clinic several times, and it was unlike her to call about a simple problem.

“Barbara, you called because you can’t find Sierra’s blanket?” I asked.

“It’s gone, Doctor,” Barbara said, close to tears. “I know you think I am crazy, but the whole thing is gone. She has been in her kennel, and I think she ate it.”

“When do you think this happened?” I asked.

“I woke up just now because Sierra was gagging and making some terrible sounds,” Barbara said. “She is really distressed, and her blanket is missing. There is no way the blanket could get out of the kennel. She had to have eaten it.”

“If that happened, I probably should check her,” I said.

“Oh, thank you, Doc,” Barbara said. “She is so distressed. I don’t think it would wait till morning.”

“It will take me at least a half hour to get to the clinic,” I said. “I was sound asleep.”

“I’m so sorry, Doc,” Barbara said.

“That’s okay, I wasn’t going to come to help you look for a blanket, but if it is a medical emergency, that is just part of this job,” I said.

I got up and pulled on my clothes.

“Are you going be alright with this alone?” Sandy asked as she rolled over.

“I guess it will be Barbara and me,” I said. “We can’t drag the kids to the clinic on a school night at this hour, and Judy and Dixie are in the same boat. Hopefully, it won’t be something that requires surgery.”

Barbara and Sierra were waiting at the clinic when I pulled up.

Sierra was standing at the door and gagging and trying to vomit. The noise she was making was loud, almost a bark.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said as I unlocked the door.

“She has been doing that constantly since she woke me up,” Barbara said.

I did a quick exam on Sierra. Everything was okay except for some abdominal distress when I palpated her belly.

“Make yourself comfortable, Barbara,” I said. “I am going to get a couple of x-rays of Sierra’s abdomen just to make sure something is in there.”

As soon as the x-rays were developed, I held them up to the viewer. Her stomach was stuffed with what we could assume was her blanket. The thing that was most concerning was a lot of content was making its way down the small intestinal tract. Fabric in the small intestines can result in a string effect where the gut accordions up on the string, which can wear through the gut wall in multiple locations.

“Barbara, it looks like the blanket is in her stomach,” I said. “The most disturbing thing is it has started down the small intestines. We should plan an exploratory surgery and get things out of there.”

“Can you do that tonight, Doctor?”

“It would be better to wait until morning when I have help,” I said. “But the problem is the longer we wait, the greater the potential for major intestinal injury. I have seen string foreign bodies that were fatal events.”

“If you can do it tonight, that would be great,” Barbara said. “I am no medical person, but I could help as much as possible.”

“There is a risk for me to do this surgery alone,” I said. “I am going to be opening the gut, maybe in a couple of places, and there will be a risk of contamination.”

“And you said there is a risk if we wait until morning,” Barbara said. “I elect to assume the risk tonight.”

With that settled, I had Barbara help me get Sierra on the surgery table and under anesthesia. I set up the surgery for the worst-case scenario, laying out several sets of gloves, multiple suture packs, and an extra surgery pack for closure.

I gave Barbara a two-minute lesson on sterile technique, showing her how to open suture packs and gloves. Then I got started with the surgery.

I made a long incision on the ventral midline and opened the abdomen. Sierra’s stomach was stuffed full with the blanket.

After securing the stomach and packing it off with lap pads, I opened it with a small incision. Then I started teasing the blanket out of the incision.

How stupid was this dog to eat the whole thing? The blanket just kept coming. Sometimes in pieces, sometimes in long strips. After removing most of the blanket from the stomach, I could see some blanket was still in the esophagus. Luckily, I could pull it into the stomach and remove it. The bad luck was the blanket pieces were starting into the small intestine. I was able to retrieve some of it, but I would have to open the intestines to get the rest. 

After closing the stomach incision, I started exploring down the small intestine. It was stuffed with content for a considerable distance. 

I picked a midpoint and hoped I could get all of the blanket out with one incision. 

“I am going to have to open the intestines to get the rest of the blanket out,” I said to Barbara, sitting in a chair in the corner of the surgery room. “The problem is every time I open the gut, it increases the chances of contamination of the abdomen and the incision. Those chances are increased with me working alone. But we can’t leave this stuff in there.”

“I am amazed that she ate all of that,” Barbara said. 

“It’s probably good that we are doing this surgery tonight,” I said. “By morning, she would have had this blanket most of the way down her gut.”

I isolated the selected loop of the bowel and opened it with a one-inch incision. I started pulling blanket material from the incision. It was easy to pull the fabric down through the incision from the upper portions of the intestine, but I had difficulty removing the material from the lower portions of the gut. When I had pulled all that I could from this incision, there was still blanket content lower in the tract.

From the second incision in the gut, I got the rest of the blanket. I was careful to flush the incisions and ensure everything was out of the gut. I instilled some saline and gentamicin into the abdomen before closing the incision.

After giving Sierra a dose of IV antibiotics, we recovered her in a kennel without a blanket. She was comfortable on recovery and not showing any of the distress that was apparent when she came to the clinic.

“I think she will be fine here for the rest of the night,” I said. “I need to check her over in the morning before sending her home.”

“When should I check with you in the morning?” Barbara asked.

“Not too early,” I said. “I might not be here at opening time, and I need some time to check that incision before sending Sierra home. We are going to have to keep a close eye on her incision. Plus, we need to give her some fluids again in the morning, and we will need to have her on nothing by mouth until the following morning. Then we can give her liquids for a few days before starting a soft diet.”

Sierra was feeling well by the time Barbara came to pick her up. I cautioned Barbara to watch the incision closely and lined out the diet and antibiotics regimen more time.

***

Only three days later, Barbara was back at the clinic with Sierra.

“I was worried about being a nuisance,” Barbara said. “But the incision is starting to weep some fluid at the upper end this morning.”

“You are not a nuisance, Barbara,” I said. “This is what you are supposed to do. We need to correct this incision now. It would be breaking open tomorrow had you not brought her in today.”

We went back to surgery with Sierra. I opened the incision. The first few sutures of the incision were starting to break down. I removed all the sutures and derided the infected areas. Then I closed the incision with stainless steel sutures. 

I kicked myself out of having the forethought to use stainless steel in the initial closure. All the newer suture material will break down in an infected closure, but stainless steel will not allow dehiscence.

Sierra healed well after that, and Barbara was both thankful and apologetic every time she saw me for many weeks following Sierra’s recovery. She also changed to using commercial kennel mats instead of blankets.

Photo by Mark Sc on Pexels.