Texas Equine Veterinary Association

Page 42 | The Remuda | SPRING 2024 EDITION 25 ADULT DAY CARE Bo Brock, DVM, DABVP Brock Veterinary Hospital, Lamesa, Texas My good friend Dr. Clark Cooper from Louisiana owns a practice about like ours in Lamesa. I just love talking to that man because he has a great wit and always has a perspective that makes me laugh. We were talking about how difficult it is to run a practice and he told me that it was about like being the principle at a 25 adult day care. That made me laugh for about three hours. Another of my old veterinary buddies is Dr. Alfred Vardeman from Colorado City, Texas, and a few days later he and I got into a similar conversation and he said that no one can really even imagine how hard it is...we have to make a decision every three minutes. That made me laugh for about three more hours. Those two paragraphs are a prelude to the story at hand. It was about one o'clock on a Monday when one of the people that work outside cleaning horse stalls came up and began telling on one of the other people that work in the same area. They, of course, don't like each other and take every chance they get to try and get the other in trouble. I never know if they are telling the truth, or just trying to get the other person in trouble by any way possible. It drives me crazy. The story of today was that the other fella had gone home for lunch and smoked some pot and now had come to work high on weed. The tattle-tail guy was telling me the story and pointing over at the acclaimed weed blower who was raking a horse lot with his headphones in his ears and dark sunglasses on. He finished his tattling and then just turned and walked off while giving me this look that kind of suggested that if I didn't go and do something that I was a terrible boss. Now, as I stood there alone, I began watching the alleged pot head work. It was a very busy morning and I was right in the middle of working up a tough lameness and now I have to stop all concentration to deal with an accusation that may, or may not even be true. It occurred to me, as I stood there watching him rake, that I wouldn't know what someone high on weed even looks like. I thought they just laugh a lot and eat Cheetos. He was doing neither. But he was moving mighty slow. He looked like a three-toed sloth trying to rake that lot. But then again, he always moves that slow. I was considering going and getting a urine cup and making him go pee in it but then it occurred to me that I don't even know if that is where marijuana is tested for. I really didn't have time for this. I had clients all over the place that needed help and now this. I decided to go over and at least talk to him and see if this would give me a clue. I opened that stall and went in, he didn't even look up. I could hear from twelve feet away the music that was playing in his ear buds. Drives me nuts. I decided I would just see how he responded to a little subliminal torture and maybe that would answer my question. I stood there waving my arms until he finally noticed the motion and looked up. I began talking vigorously and pointed to the barn just north of us, except as I moved my lips, I made no sound with my voice. I initially did this because I knew he would never be able to hear me no matter how loud I yelled because the volume was so high on his head phones. This caused him to take off the blaring headphones and tell me that he couldn't understand what I had said. Couldn't understand me? I'll say...he couldn't understand me because the music was so loud he couldn't HEAR me. I stayed with my initial intent. I began adamantly pointing to the north barn and acting like I was talking with no sound coming out of my mouth at all. I even changed expression several times, from a smile, to a serious look, and finally to a look of surprise. All the while making no noise at all. He then turned the volume down on his headphones, even though they weren't in his ears. This kind of made me giggle internally. He again said that he couldn't understand me and twisted his expression into a low-eyebrowed concerned look that seemed to reflect that he did not want to make me mad, but didn't know what I had said. So I did the exact same silent tirade again, only this time I raised my eyebrows and added a moment of stern expression to the already confusing smile/serious/surprised looks. I pointed with great animation to the north barn and then stopped and breathed out heavily. The first time I got his attention he thought it was the loud noise of the music in his hears that made him unable to hear me. The second time, even though they weren't in his ears, he still thought the music was too loud. This time he changed to a totally different facial expression that reflected worry and despair. He shifted his eyes from left to right and I could see he was trying to decide if he could hear anything at all. When he saw the tractor running in the alley to his right and confirmed that he could hear the sound it was making, he suddenly became even more confused. I was interested to see what he would do next so I just stood there looking. He passed through several visible emotion changes and then just said, "I think I am losing it man!" and walked off and started raking a pen in the north barn at an equally slow pace. Only this time he left the head phones off. I have no idea if he had been blowing weed that day or not. But I do know this, if he had been, he now thinks that it causes him to selectively not be able to hear my voice when I am obviously yelling at him to get something done. Must have freaked him out a bit because he never wears the headphones any more and quit wearing the dark sunglasses. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Dr. Brock is a past TEVA President and Texas Equine Foundation President. These stories are from his book "Crowded in the Middle of Nowhere."

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