Night Calls

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By Dr. Jim Foster

“If you decide to become a veterinary surgeon you will never grow rich, but you will have a life of endless interest and variety.” James Herriot, All Creatures Great and Small

It is the evening of August 27th, 2025, and I am grateful for cooler and less humid weather. I am halfway through thirty-four years of veterinary practice and at the end of each day I am tired and grateful. I am in the minority of those who work that can say they have been in the same job and in the same employment for that many years. The adventures that I have had in my career are what I believe have anchored me in Shelby County, Missouri.

I have had young people ask me about my job as a veterinarian and they typically focus their attention on animals. That is a completely normal thing, especially for little children. However, my life as a veterinarian has not just been about animals. It has also been about their owners. I have viewed it as a relationship between owner, animal and me. Sometimes, owners do not always give all the information when an animal is sick. My role as a veterinarian is at times that of a detective. And still, I do not always get important information and that can lead to unusual situations during the day and sometimes at night.

My phone rang one early late summer evening with a client needing an after-hours appointment. I left my home three ½ miles northwest of Shelbina, Mo and made my way to West Maple Street which in my childhood was Old Bus 36 Hwy. I slowed my vehicle as I saw an ambulance pull up along side the north side of the street and I stopped briefly as I noticed our Shelbina City Marshall Paul Bowen standing in front of the ambulance. Many of us referred to him as “Officer Paul.” I rolled down my window and asked if I could be of service as he grinned in true “Officer Paul” tradition. I knew the ambulance crew was very capable, but we never know if some poor animal may be involved and if veterinary assistance is needed. I learned that there had been a mishap in a local amateur home beauty salon and that no pets were harmed in the process.

They were an older boyfriend/girlfriend combination that had mixed alcohol with the idea of operating a home hair salon when she mentioned she needed a trim and did not have the money to go to a local hairdresser. She sat in the kitchen while he wielded the sharp sheers aiming to give her the bob hair cut that she wanted. Gravity may have won out over his alcohol level as he grabbed the long lock of hair and aimed his one good eye at the imaginary line he was drawing in his attempt to make a clean cut. Gravity won. He lost his balance and did not let go of her hair. She screamed at his yank while he went for the  line not seeing her hand coming in to stop him. It was a clean cutter special with a spattering of blood that led to the 911 call. Still to this day I’ve yet to learn which of the fingers hit the floor preventing her from typing or playing the piano or if their little dog viewed it as a potential sausage treat.

I said goodbye to Officer Paul and made my way to Red Barn Veterinary services located at 528 East Maple Street. I parked in the west drive of the vet clinic with the intention of going through the front door, which was my typical habit. It was now dark on this late August evening as we were beginning to lose our sunlight entering fall. I fumbled for the correct key to unlock the door that contained six induvial windowpanes that gave me just a glimpse into the lobby while in the dark. I heard a hard clicking sound against the little windows and looked up to see massive teeth revealed as a loud “BARK! BARK! BARK!” came from the furry face of what appeared to be a large golden retriever. As it barked, I screamed. The blood drained right out of my head and every ounce of liquid I had ingested that day may have ended up in my boots as this canine culprit scared the bejeebers right out of me. I made my way carefully through the door as he ran behind the lobby counter. I quickly closed the door as he came back around and knocked me down. He licked my face and then ran for the back of the clinic. He was a new boarder. It was later revealed by his sweet owner that he was a very playful sneaky escape artist. They had forgotten to reveal that to us. “He is so smart he can open any latch!” they bragged while I laughed and wondered what that couple down the street was drinking the previous night.