08/04/2020
Dare I say this makes a simple castration sound purely poetic!
Tis the season!
Brain Surgery, a poem by Karen Campbell:
I start the phone a ringing, a voice on the other line.
“Dr. B.” I say, “That roan c**t’s gone and lost his mind.”
“He’s started jumping fences when he’s built for throwing twine.”
She asks me, “the one that used to be so kind?”
“That’s the one!” I cry. My voice shakes now in grief.
“He’s my husband’s favorite and a darn good looking beast.”
“I’ve got the fix for that” she states, “We have to catch the thief.”
“I’ll see you Friday morning when the sun shines in the east.”
She rolls up bright and early in her vet outfitted Jeep.
Gets her meds out, gets her gloves out, gets herself a drink.
We’ve got that c**t in a pen tall enough he just can’t leap
She looks at him and says, “I see why he can’t think.”
“That mind of his is lost. It’s gone to traveling.
We’ve got to find it quick or he’ll never think again.
The answer so I tell you involves unraveling
The knots that are so tight that he’s tied himself up in.”
“Surgery is called for. You called me just in time
I know just where his mind is and know he’ll be just fine.
I’ll cut him some to find it; the timing is just prime.
He’s got a couple tumors on his brain that are benign.”
We rope him up and hold him, the shot goes plunging in
And very shortly later he begins to sway and bend.
Down he goes real quiet, no lunging round for him.
No other issues which the vet might have to mend.
Out comes her scalpel, and its winking in the light.
The cuts she makes are small and also quite precise.
Just a bit of prodding shows those tumors large and white.
They’re big enough she just might have to do this twice.
Out comes her drill now and it begins to spin and whine
She twists that tumor tight and swirls it off the line
The second one soon follows as if by grand design
She’s a master of brain surgery for anything equine.
Both tumors then are placed right there in front of him
“Its important,” she tells us, “for him to know we win.”
It’s part of mental therapy to prove it’s not so grim
That now he’ll live long and happy, free of sin.”
Slowly he begins to wake, to shake and then to nicker
He’s still a little drunk; his eyes don’t have that glimmer.
But I can tell he’ll heal up well, he won’t be any sicker
Even if the surgery makes him just a little slimmer.
She gets her gloves, gets her meds, and gets her drink.
She loads them all up back into her Jeep.
She drives off down the road as quick as you can blink
She’ll call in a couple days to check on his upkeep.
I hear the phone a ringing, a voice on the other line.
“Dr. B,” I say, “our new gelding is just fine.”
He isn’t jumping fences. He’ll be great for throwing twine.
He’s gone and found his mind, and he’s back to being kind.”
I’d liked to say he had some cow when all he had was mare
But he’s gone from chasing ass to chasing steers.
Thank you dear doctor for curing my despair
But I’ll have another one same time next year.”
