Texas Equine Veterinary Association

www.texasequineva.com | 43 How does that Even happen? Bo Brock, DVM, DABVP Brock Veterinary Hospital, Lamesa, Texas It just seems like the odds of certain things happening are so incredibly small that they should just never occur. I have found myself looking at situations of life and just thinking "wow, the chances of that happening are almost zero!" e phone rang at the house around 5:30 a.m. at is not really a big deal, it seems that people are up that hour feeding animals and preparing for the day so they oen discover misfortunes in the animal world about that time. But Steve seemed to have a strange tone in his voice as my sleepy brain processed his request. "I need you to stop by my house on your way to work. I have a prob- lem with my dog and I can't bring him in. Come buy as soon as you can please." His tone was not that of a man with a huge emergency. He seemed fairly calm with just a hint of 'hurry if you don't mind' sprinkled in. I tried to quiz him a bit about what was wrong with the dog but he just kept saying that I would have to see it because he really couldn't explain it. I rolled out of the sack and thought about taking a quick shower. He didn't seem to be too up in arms about the problem and the need for immediate attention was not the feeling I got from the conversation. But something told me I should skip the shower and just go ahead on over there. Steve is not a very emotional fella. I have known him for years and don't believe he would change his expression if his pants were on fire. So I slipped on some clothes and texted him I was on the way. His house is just a few miles down the road from me so arrival in the driveway found him ambling down the path from his house to the barn. He was moving with his arms hanging limp by his waist at the usual snail pace that characterized his way. I pulled up beside him and managed to get the window down and greet him before he even looked up. "Where is the dog buddy? What is wrong? How come you couldn't bring him in? Do you need a ride to wherever we are goin'?" I managed to ask all these questions and even pause between them waiting for a response before he even said a word. And then, he really didn't even say anything, he just pointed toward the barn and just motioned for me to follow him. I am a fast moving, hyperactive, 'let's get things done' kind of guy. When I get around the laid-back, slow-moving people, it just wears me out. I know I need to be more like them and smell to roses a bit more, but I just can't. We crept along at the speed of smell until we finally rounded the corner of the barn and saw his pick up parked in the so plowed dirt on the edge of a freshly worked cotton field. He pointed over to the pick-up and got a concerned look on his face. I ex- amined the pick-up as I exited my own truck and could find nothing out of order. I did appear to be parked in a strange way with the front tires turned all the way to the le. I looked to see how this could involve a dog. e windows were rolled down, so he obviously wasn't trapped inside. e tailgate was down, and no dog was visible in the bed of the truck. It just looked like a normal truck. We kept walking toward the truck with no words spoken until we finally rounded the back of the truck and the front wheel on the drivers side was visible. ere…pressed under the front wheel, was Steve's dog. He had run over the dog and somehow actually stopped right on top of it. "WHAT??" How can one actually run over anything and stop on top of it? e dog was pinned in the so dirt and other than having a destitute look on its face, appeared just fine. e problem was, if the truck went forward, it would crush his head, if it went backward, it would run over his abdomen and hips. I know you are trying to get a picture in your head of how that tire was on that dog. And I am trying to figure out a way to describe it but the words just are not there. It was kind of on the skin of the nap of his neck and a little on one back foot. is dog was curled up in a really strange position and pinned to the earth by a pick up. "I just don't see anyway to drive that pickup that won't kill that dog, do you doc?" Steve said in his usual monotone voice. I examined the situation closely and determined that he was correct. e dog was in the worst possible place. Steve was hopeless. I, on the other hand, could not believe that anyone could run over a dog and stop on top of it. How slow must he have been going? I just had this picture in my mind of the steam roller scene in the Austin Powers movie. I went to the back of Steve's truck and got a shovel. I started digging in the so dirt under the dog. I would move a shovel full of dirt and the dog would wiggle a bit. I would remove another shovel full, and he would wiggle some more. Aer about five minutes of shoveling a wiggling, the dog finally popped free and ran off like nothing had ever happened. Steve was as happy as Steve can be. He even smiled and shook my hand. I ask him how in the world he managed to actually stop on top of the dog. He told me that he was going really slow (no kidding) and the dog just ran under the wheel so he slammed on the brakes. When he got out to check, there was the dog, just like it was when I arrived. e dog went on to live happily ever aer. Steve went on moving at the speed of a three toed sloth. I went on and decided I was going to write a story about someone that could actually run over a dog and stop on top of it, and then, the dog stay under the tire for an entire hour, and then, run off like nothing ever happened.

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