That Perfect Place Page 3

  “How old? Married or single?”

  “Divorced, about my age, I guess. His half-sister is the receptionist. I don’t know how I feel about her yet. She seems a bit bossy. Dr. Murdoch’s wife is the lead tech, and there is one other vet but she won’t be in until Monday. The clinic is a dream, though. Brand spanking new and well equipped. There are large- and small-animal facilities and a nice operating theater.”

  “No leaky autoclaves, huh?” Trish asked.

  “No.” Jill laughed. “This place is first class all the way. I’m sure they can sterilize instruments properly.”

  “So are you staying?”

  “I think I will take the three-month trial to see how I get on. I told Dr. Gundersen I’d let him know tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be great. You are a good vet, and anyone would be lucky to have you on their staff.”

  “I’m a little afraid after all the places I’ve been. It’s hard to work in a place where you don’t feel comfortable.”

  “You were in bad circumstances.”

  “My sister, Tina, says the same thing.”

  “Well, for once she’s right. Everyone here wants you back. Some of us have sought the services of another vet.” There was a pause. “Uh-oh, gotta go. Baby calling. Call me again soon, OK?”

  “Kiss Kimmy for me. Bye.”

  ill walked down to the clinic at twenty to eight. Brad was heading for the school bus that was turning in the drive.

  “Dad’s in the barn doing morning meds,” he informed her.

  “Thanks. Have a nice day, Brad.”

  She took a few minutes to wander around the clinic and get familiar with the layout. Behind the shelves of animal supplies were a storeroom and a staff break room with a shower and a fairly complete kitchen with a washer and dryer. She looked into what she supposed was another closet but turned out to be a small bunk room with two cots and a bureau full of extra clothes.

  The staff room led directly to the small-animal treatment area containing kennels, bathing facilities, and a treatment table. On one side were the back doors to the consulting rooms and on the other the private offices. Jeanine had her own space, but the other office contained three desks and lots of reference books. She put her things on the empty desk by the window. From this angle she could see the farmhouse and the fields behind it, a big improvement on the funeral parlor her window had looked on in Ohio.

  She went back out of the office and explored the large-animal treatment area. The floors were all rubber matted. There was a stock to restrain animals for treatment, and several holding stalls were located along the front wall. There was a separate room for x-rays set up for both small and large animals. The lab was large and well stocked and divided the small- and large-animal sides of the building. All in all, it was a well-equipped clinic and laid-out sensibly. They had obviously spared no expense.

  The automatic door opened in the back of the building, and Jake entered with a Shire clopping along behind him. He tied the big black draft horse to a ring in the wall. Jill noticed a long oozing gash on its chest.

  “Morning,” Jake said and filled a pail with warm water and added some Betadine for disinfecting. “Soon as I finish here we’ll start farm calls.”

  He cleaned the discharge from the wound and donned a headlamp. Holding the halter with one hand and probing with large forceps with the other, he pulled out a splinter about four inches long. The big horse slashed his tail and pawed the ground while Jake probed and pulled. Jake patted him on the neck and dressed the wound with iodide powder. He finished by giving the animal a huge injection of penicillin. A horse whinnied in the distance, and the building rang as the gentle giant answered his pasture mate.

  Promptly at eight, the phones began to ring. Jake was putting the horse in a holding paddock when Jeanine appeared.

  “Morning, Dr. Maitland. You and the Big Guy have got quite a day ahead, starting with an emergency, a difficult foaling at one of the Amish.” She handed Jill a clipboard and hustled back out, answering her headset as she went.

  When Jake returned, Jill handed her boss the clipboard. He rolled his eyes when he saw the first entry.

  “Chances are, the mare and foal are already dead. A lot of these guys don’t call until it’s too late,” he commented as they headed for the truck. The collies and the terrier jumped in the truck, but the Corgi stayed on the porch and watched them go.

  The terrier growled at Jill when she attempted to get in. “Get in the back, you little shit,” Jake growled back in mock anger. The small dog sheepishly slunk over the armrest to claim his place among the big dogs. “Don’t let Newton intimidate you because he will try.” He handed her a plat book. “You’ll need this.”

  “What township is this?” she asked, opening the county atlas. “Oh wait. Jeanine has it marked already. And in Independence are the pig guys?”

  “Yeah, they specialize in hog confinements. We’re the cow-and-everything-else guys, although there is another small-animal clinic in Indy, but the guy there is semiretired and doesn’t do surgery.”

  It took just a few minutes to get on the Fairbank Amish Boulevard and find the appropriate farm. Jake pointed out the 911 addresses as they went.

  An anxious bearded young man was waiting for them when they pulled in. “I think, Jakob, we will have to be putting her down,” he said.

  “We’ll see.” Jake looked at Jill and said, “IV, ringers on your side. I’ll grab the rest.”

  A Belgian mare was down on her side. She couldn’t deliver the baby because his leg was bent back. The foal was miraculously still alive. Jake was gloved and greased up with KY jelly in seconds. He reached in and lifted and straightened the foal’s leg between contractions after making a quick incision. As soon as he got the foot out, the mare finished expelling the foal on the next contraction. Jill already had the IV started. The vets moved back to see if the mare would take charge from there. Being an experienced mother, she rolled up on her sternum and proceeded to lick the foal.

  “Eli, the mare is pretty torn up. And so is the colt’s leg. I don’t think I want to know what you were doing.”

  “My papa, I’m afraid. I was hitching up the team. My missus told me he was pulling the foal, and I called you. I sent him away as soon as I saw what he was doing. There will be a big argument in my home, I think.”

  “I’ll sew her up, but you can’t breed her back this year and maybe not ever.”

  Once the afterbirth was expelled, Jake anesthetized the mare and repaired the vaginal tear. Jill, meanwhile, had cleaned the baby’s leg. She helped him up to nurse, but he had to be held because he couldn’t put weight on the injured right front.

  “The tendon is badly contracted,” she observed. “Probably from his position in the womb. We’ll cast it and check back in a four days. It may need tendon surgery later, but I think the little guy has a good chance at being normal.”

  The vets had been there more than two hours by the time they got packed up to go. They watched with satisfaction as the Belgian colt got up and nursed on his own.

  As she was climbing into the truck, Jill heard Eli comment to her boss. “Well, Jakob, it looks like you got some good help now.”

  “Ja, if I can convince her to stay.”

  Newton had taken her seat again and growled.

  “Newton,” Jill said, “let us come to a right understanding. I don’t give treats to dogs who sit in the front.” She handed biscuits to the collies in the back.

  The terrier picked up his ears, and his eyes got big and moist.

  “Not until you get in the back,” she admonished, pointing. Newton hopped over the armrest and snatched his biscuit from her fingers. Jill slid into her seat, and Jake nodded approvingly, a smile playing about his lips.

  “That’s what makes this job so great, isn’t it?” He pointed to the paddock where the mother and foal were resting.

  “I agree completely,” Jill answered, smiling. Wow, he feels the same way I do—amazing.
>
  The rest of the morning was taken up with vaccinations on several herds of cows. The value of the collies was demonstrated here. The two worked as a team and got the cows exactly where they were needed whether a chute or a paddock corner or into a stall. No human had to get his or her feet dirty. Jill made a fuss over them each time they finished, which made them ecstatic. Newton, not to be outdone, contributed a pocket gopher and two dead mice.

  “Wow. That is so helpful. What great dogs.”

  “Yeah, they make things manageable for me.”

  She wondered if he were referring to his missing foot. This must be the trouble everyone had hinted at.

  She asked him a lot questions about how he liked specific things to be done. His answers were to her liking, and to her delight he added, “Jill, the DVM after your name means you get to tell people how you want things done. Besides, I always want to hear new ideas and methods. You never know when something better might come along.

  “Maybe that’s why they call it practicing medicine. If we stick with it long enough maybe we finally get it right,” he said wryly.

  They headed south and stopped at large dairy farm on the Blackhawk County border. Jake took care of some lame cows while Jill treated a case of mastitis and cleaned out a retained placenta. They both worked efficiently, keeping up a flow of conversation with the dairymen as they worked.

  It was 1:30 when they headed for their last morning stop down near Vinton. “This next is my favorite, plus my best friends own it.”

  “What is ‘it’?” She laughed with his enthusiasm.

  “You’ll see.” They got off the highway and crossed a bridge. On their right was a large truck stop, on the left a sign for Iowa Exotic Animal Facility. They passed camels, llamas, emus, and zebras on the long drive in. He parked in front of an office and got out.

  “In the summer, it serves as the local zoo, but they also do research, rescue, and rare-species breeding. It’s run by Steve and Maggie Brandeis. I went to school with Maggie, and Steve and I were marines together. I introduced them, but they don’t hold it against me.”

  A one-handed, shaggy, bearded man appeared around the side of the building and wrapped Jake in a bear hug. “How ya doing, you son of a bitch?” He stopped when he saw Jill. “Say, is this Ellen’s replacement?”

  “We’re working on her. Now be nice and don’t scare her off. She’s a damn good vet. Jillian Maitland, I’d like you to meet Steve Brandeis.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Dr. Maitland,” he said, shaking her hand. His eyes twinkled as if he were about to share some happy secret. “Shall we eat first? Maggie has prepared a feast. She’s always trying to fatten Jake up,” he explained to Jill. “Never works on him though. I’m the one who gains all the weight.” He patted his well-padded abdomen.

  Maggie was the opposite of her overly sun-exposed husband with straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was quiet and reserved with a Mona Lisa smile. She welcomed Jill and hugged Jake. They sat down to lunch immediately, and it was delicious. A salad of leafy greens and mandarin oranges with a sweet, light dressing was followed by steak and whipped yams.

  The dining area was reminiscent of a jungle. Bromeliads and potted figs grew up to the glass ceiling. The furniture was bamboo with a leaf pattern on the cushions. There were some wood carvings and bronze statuary scattered around the room.

  “So, how did you get into this business?” Jill asked.

  “I worked at a zoo before the marine corps, so when Maggie’s cousin was looking to retire we took the place over. We’ve been here six years now and haven’t made a dime yet, but it beats a suit and tie.”

  Maggie put in, “I love it here, but you have to get used to some very strange noises at night. Happy animals are a welcome relief after working with so many torn-up and despondent soldiers. I’m a RN and used to work for the VA. I still do volunteer work a few times a month. Usually we take animals in for visits.”

  “Matt Damon made a movie about a guy who buys a zoo, and boy, could we connect with that,” Steve joked. “I once chased a camel clear out to the highway. We led him back from the window of the pickup.”

  “Do you remember the lady and the peanuts?” Jake asked.

  “Oh, yeah. This lady comes to us and complains that the animals are throwing things at her. ‘What things?’ I asked, and she said peanuts. Seems she threw peanuts to the monkeys and they threw them back. I told her our animals could read the do-not-feed sign, so why couldn’t she?”

  Maggie said, “I think we lost a patron that day. I don’t know if she was angrier about the peanuts being thrown back or Steve insinuating she wasn’t as smart as a Rhesus monkey.”

  Jill was laughing so hard she nearly forgot what they had come for. Her prospective employer hadn’t, however, and pushed his chair back as soon as he finished.

  “Gotta keep moving. We’re already several hours behind schedule because of that emergency, and I’d like to finish before nine.”

  “Jill, do you have any experience with exotics?” he asked.

  “No, sorry.”

  “Didn’t expect you to. We’ll stick together then. Let’s start with the monkeys.” He got up. “Thanks, Maggie. You’re terrific and so was lunch.”

  “I know, Jake, I know. I’m a saint.”

  “Well let me kiss St. Maggie for good luck,” he said.

  “Hey, get your own saint.” Steve pushed in and gave his wife a squeeze.

  Jake and Jill donned thick gloves to handle three Rhesus monkeys who had suffered extensive hair loss.

  “The problem is they lick off the cream as soon as I put it on,” Steve informed them.

  “It almost looks like FAD,” Jill observed. “The skin is red and scabby. Do you get many flea problems in Iowa?”

  “I never thought of fleas. They’re not usually a problem in Iowa and monkeys usually keep each other picked clean,” Steve said.

  “The winters are cold enough to keep them in check,” Jake said, running his hand through the monkey’s fur. “There are no documented cases of FAD in monkeys as far as I know. Has anything changed in their environment and have they always been together?”

  “There are four of them that have lived together for two years with no problems until now. I moved the fourth one out this morning.”

  “The fourth monkey is OK?”

  “No sign of skin problems, but she has been depressed. She lost a baby a few days back,” Steve said.

  “This could be a contact allergy. Try cleaning with a different, milder cleaning agent, but watch the fourth one’s behavior. She may be hair pulling.”

  “You could be right. Maggie said they seemed like they weren’t getting along lately.”

  “Give them a trial separation and see if the skin starts to improve. Hide sad monkey’s food and make her work to find it. Maybe try buying her a doll.”

  “Barbie or Ken?” Steve asked skeptically.

  “How about Curious George?” Jake said. “I know it sounds crazy, but she just might need a distraction.”

  Next, they treated two newly arrived camels with foot rot and vaccinated all sorts of species, finishing up with the big cats. Jake fixed an ear abscess on a testy ocelot and headed for the outside enclosure. Jill was furiously scribbling notes as she followed him. This is so cool, beyond my wildest expectations.

  She got a real scare when a pregnant lioness charged across the open space after her new boss. She nearly screamed when the lioness jumped up and wrapped him in a hug.

  “Sasha here is my girlfriend. She was born in captivity and kept as a pet, so she still thinks she’s a house cat,” he said, laughing as the big cat put her paw around him and licked his ear. “Her first litter is due in a few weeks.” He winced as her rough tongue rasped the side of his face.

  Jill closed her eyes and willed her heart to beat normally. She didn’t say anything because she wasn’t sure she could speak without squeaking. She let the lioness sniff her hand and rub against her legs. She scrat
ched the cat’s back, and Sasha made the throaty growl that passed for a purr with lions.

  Their last job at Brandeises’ was a tooth extraction on the old male lion, Zorro. Jake was very good at explaining everything as he went. Jill noted to herself that he would make an excellent teacher. He had a clear, concise way of stating things.

  They left at six thirty and made one stop outside of Brandon to see some young pygmy goats that were scouring. Jake had Jill take several stool samples to check once they were back home. Jake treated the goats for coccidiosis and admonished the owner to make sure they were drinking plenty of water. He left her with a pamphlet on goat care.

  Working their way back up the county, the vets stopped near Rowley, and Jake watched while Jill did a lameness exam. It was a hind-leg lameness in an eventing horse and difficult to pin down. He noted approvingly at how thorough Jill was, and after several minutes of flexion tests and jog outs, agreed with her assessment that the problem was in the sacral area. Jill suggested massage, heat, and rest from strenuous work. The owner looked at Jake, and he nodded.

  “Good job,” Jake said. “I agree.”

  He went over to the horse and proceeded to adjust its spine in several places. The horse sighed and licked its lips when the vet was done.

  “I like to use an actuator for chiropractic,” he explained, showing the device to Jill. “It’s more precise, but I can do hand manipulations if necessary. Of course, my height is a big advantage with these seventeen-hand guys.”

  Jill came over and palpated the area, noting the lack of reaction from the horse where he had shown pain before. “Well, that’s certainly better than painkillers.”

  “Yup, remove the cause, extinguish the pain,” Jake commented.

  “I’ll be back in four days, Vic,” he said to the owner. “Like she said, heat and only slow stretching work for three days. No jumping for a while.”

  Two more stops completed their day, and they pulled into the yard at 8:10 p.m. Jill had entered notes that Jake dictated into his laptop as he drove, saving about an hour on the day.