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

longer and he began to laugh right out loud. To my horror, Dr. Evers joined him.
    “Bruce,” offered Doug when his laughter died down, “that’s called proud flesh.”
    “ Proud flesh is the medical term for that?” I asked incredulously.
    “Well, the technical name is actually exuberant granulation tissue,” Dr. Evers said. “But the common name is proud flesh. For reasons we don’t entirely understand, horses produce way more scar tissue than is necessary to heal a wound. And it can be very difficult to get rid of. I’m not sure why the old-timers called it proud flesh, but the name has stuck. You’ll get used to it.”
    Dr. Evers went to work doing some type of surgical debulking of the excessive tissue; but honestly, my heart wasn’t much into it. I was distracted by a two-week-old foal in the adjacent pasture that was kicking up his heels. A sudden question from Dr. Evers brought me back to the task at hand.
    “So, Bruce, after I finish cleaning this wound up, what important shot should I give this horse to make sure it doesn’t get sick?”
    “I guess an antibiotic injection?”
    “Don’t guess, man—know!” He fairly shouted the words at me. “Soon your clients will be paying you for your training and knowledge. They deserve better than your best guess. Yes, I will give him an antibiotic injection, but what preventive shot does a wound like this need?”
    Though I was beyond mortified at this heated chastisement, I had no idea what Dr. Evers was referring to. I looked at him blankly but did not speak.
    “My goodness, Bruce, think, for heaven’s sake. It’s something you need to get every ten years or so.”
    “Maybe a tetanus shot?” It was a blind stab in the dark.
    “Yes, a tetanus shot! Surely you know how susceptible horses are to tetanus. Whenever they receive a penetrating injury like this, they have to have a tetanus booster. Bank on it.”
    “I’ll remember it, sir” I said quietly. When Dr. Evers looked at me with disbelief on his face, I repeated my promise, this time defensively. “I will.”
    And I have remembered it ever since. If tomorrow, by some strange twist of fate, I was called out to treat proud flesh on a horse’s leg, I would have not the slightest idea what the currently accepted treatment for it is. But I would, without hesitation, give the horse a tetanus shot.
    I was quiet when we got back in the truck. It was only lunchtime, but already the day seemed very long—very long indeed. From the moment I had stepped foot in Dr. Evers’s practice I had been grilled and interrogated for answers I did not know. Repeatedly, I had exposed my ignorance to the men whom I so wanted to impress. Nothing had gone right. I was tired and embarrassed and tired of being embarrassed. So I just sat silently in the passenger’s seat, sulking. If Dr. Evers sensed my frustration, he didn’t let on. And he couldn’t leave well enough alone.
    “Honestly, Bruce,” he began after a prolonged silence. “I have some real concerns about your readiness for practice.”
    “I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’ve still got plenty of time before vet school’s over.”
    “But graduation is only a few months away, right?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m really looking forward to graduation.”
    “Have you gotten good grades in school?”
    “Yes, sir, I have,” I responded defensively. “I expect to end this semester having gotten straight A’s through my whole four years.”
    “You’re kidding me, right?” Dr. Evers seemed unimpressed by my grades.
    “No, sir, I’m not. I’ve worked really hard for my grades.” He did not respond to this for a moment, and I hoped the grilling was over. It was not.
    “Do you have plans yet—after graduation, I mean?”
    “Yes, sir,” I responded. “I’ll be working at camp this summer again. Then I’m headed to Tennessee for college.”
    Dr. Evers didn’t really seem to be paying much attention to me, but at this comment I saw his face jerk