The Gift of Pets: Stories Only a Vet Could Tell by Bruce R. Coston Page B

the hoof wall. Can you see that?”
    “Oh yeah. That’s pretty cool.” I chuckled appreciatively. I had never seen an X-ray of a horse’s foot before and I found it amazingly exhilarating, despite the fact that these men were clearly becoming increasingly put out with me.
    “So what would you do for a case of laminitis this severe?”
    “I guess I’d call you guys,” I said, laughing at my ready wit, but slightly concerned when none of them laughed, too. There was another moment of awkward silence before Dr. Evers abruptly stood up.
    “Okay, so it seems we’re done here. We’d better hit the road. We’ve got a busy day. I guess I’ll take Bruce with me, unless one of you wants him.” There were no takers.
    I followed Dr. Evers to his truck, its gleaming white veterinary box filling the bed. We climbed in and set off on an adventure I had been looking forward to for many weeks. Our first call was to a breeding farm, where we were to perform an artificial insemination on a mare worth many thousands of dollars. The sire was a famous stallion who commanded a stud fee of $75,000. Both horses were on-site at the farm for the breeding and were to be evaluated beforehand by Dr. Evers.
    “If both horses are at the farm, why not just let them breed naturally?” I asked.
    “Because they are both too valuable to risk injury. It’s as simple as that.”
    “Will you need my help, or should I just watch?”
    “You can help. First, we’re going to collect the stallion. Then we’ll evaluate for abnormalities under a microscope before infusing it in the uterus.”
    None of this made a bit of sense to me. Why in the world would we collect the stallion? Hadn’t he just told me he was right here at the farm? And how would he evaluate the huge horse under a microscope? All will come clear, I thought. I was here to learn from the professionals, after all.
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “I’ll show you when the time comes. Just remember, though, you have to be quick. Things happen pretty fast in the heat of the moment.”
    Once on the farm, Dr. Evers removed from his truck a three-foot-long plastic two-layered sleeve reminiscent of the arm of a thick down jacket. He filled the space where the feathers would have been with warm water. This left a hollow tubelike space between these water-filled layers. He lubricated this space generously with a slippery goo he squeezed from a tube. He attached an eight-inch-long plastic funnel to one end of this contraption, and to that he affixed a large test tube.
    “What in the world is that thing?” I asked.
    “That thing is what you are going to hand me when I ask for it. It is the most important piece of equipment in this whole process. Handle it carefully,” he said, placing it gingerly in my arms.
    The mare was brought into the aisle of the barn and cross-tied with a rope from each side. Dr. Evers carefully examined her, starting at the head but spending most of his time at the other end. His exam included inserting his arm up to the shoulder in one orifice or another—I wasn’t sure which. Apparently, she passed with flying colors because she was soon escorted back to her stall by a groom.
    The stallion was then brought out by another stable hand and led to an arena with a circumference of some one hundred feet. It was not clear who was in control of whom, but the groom seemed to have the upper hand, with the help of a leather lead with a two-foot length of brass chain at its end, which was snapped to one side of the halter, looped over the horse’s nose, and passed through the D-ring on the groom’s side of the stallion. Every step or two, the groom would give the lead a quick jerk. This reminded the powerful beast to follow directions despite the surging of his raging hormones. As an experienced stud horse, he knew exactly what his immediate future held.
    Dr. Evers carefully examined the stallion as well, concentrating his efforts on the animal’s reproductive