Aug. 14, 2002 ~ Mixed blessings
How could rain in August, in Texas, possibly be a mixed blessing? On the one hand, we desperately need the nearly two inches of rain we got this morning. But on the other hand, it means that Hoppy's splint got wet. "Hoppy" is a 27 day old calf with a broken leg. We have no idea how it happened. Perhaps he stepped in a gopher hole while racing through the pasture at top speed. Perhaps he simply got stepped on by one of the cows. At any rate, he is now sporting a stylish blue splint (thank you, Susan... thank you, thank you, thank you). It's best if the padding doesn't get wet, but that's almost impossible, even under the best of circumstances. With the rain, though, the padding and bandages will be thoroughly soaked. Can't be helped, I guess, and we do need the rain. We'll just have to change the padding and reapply the splint.
Susan doesn't actually treat large animals, other than mine, and only when she volunteers. Most of the time we try to use the large animal vets. This time, though, they were going to charge a small fortune to treat the calf, and in general, we don't have good luck with sick or injured calves. There have been a few notable exceptions, but mostly they die no matter what we do. We couldn't justify spending as much to treat the calf as he would bring at auction, IF he survived. And I can't begin to tell you how much that hurt my heart. At that moment, looking at that injured calf, and telling the vet that no, I guess we couldn't afford to treat him... I felt about as low as I've felt in a long, long time. I very much wished to be out of the cattle business. I couldn't eat. Had trouble sleeping. But Susan was here the next morning and when she saw the calf, she just smiled and said he could be easily treated, that she would help... Well, I've said it before, but it bears repeating... there must be a special place in Heaven for small-town vets.
Hoppy will probably always limp, but that's the way it goes. He will probably bring less at auction, too. Again, that's the way it goes. He's obviously still in pain, but he's getting around better and is eating better, too. His mama, Brownie Jo, was very upset about the whole situation, but now she's settling down.
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Misha is actually feeling a little better. Still very thin, and still quite sick, but he feels better, and he's jumping up onto the bed again... acting more like his usual self.
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I have friends who get terribly, deeply depressed in wintertime. Something about the lack of light. But me, I have trouble with August. By August, it has already been "summer" (hot) since about April, and I'm tired of it. The garden fades, the pastures dry up and the dust starts to swirl, and it just wears me down. Every day the same thing, hot... and plenty of it. I lose focus, lose energy. Don't want to do anything, and then feel guilty about being so lazy. I don't even want to get up in the morning. I grow weary of always fighting the bees and wasps, and this year we're overrun by grasshoppers and moths, too. Yes, even in the house. I do mean overrun... they're everywhere. Leading the meetings, my little part-time job, gets to be a pain, these final weeks in August. Attendance picks up in September, but those last few weeks until then, everyone is on vacation or whatever and my confidence lags. Is it me, I wonder? It probably is. They hate me, I'm sure of it. I start to wonder why I even bother. Maybe I should just go to work for Susan.
It's kind of like that. One thing piles on another, and sometimes I just wish I could scream. An unhealthy dose of self-pity doesn't help anything, either.
But each and every year, September follows August, just like clockwork. And after September comes October, which brings cooler temperatures. And I can breathe again. Things look a little brighter. Life is full of possibilities. Until then, I will get up each morning whether I want to or not, and will fight the bees, and will pick vegetables until the plants totally give up. I will smile. I will do the things that absolutely have to be done, and will try to do a little bit more each day.
Somedays I may grit my teeth. But it won't last forever.
It helps to know that this will pass.
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