Horse Illustrated Magazine

“Hello, Dr. Diehl? I have a question about a cat named Devil Breath. He’s at our clinic today and Laurie said to get his records from you?”

“Devil Breath …” I repeated slowly.

Normally, I’d just email the vet records, but the Devil Breath experience was forever burned into my brain. While I’d escaped uninjured, my truck hadn’t been so lucky, and Laurie’s husband had ended up in the ER.

Laurie had 11 horses, including two rotten ponies. In addition to the long drive, trying to outsmart ponies, and juggling a variety of problems with the herd, there were six barn cats and four small dogs to attend to. A trip to Laurie’s was always a day-long adventure, and it was actually because of Laurie that I’d started keeping a well-stocked small animal pharmacy on my mobile vet truck.

Raining Cats & Dogs

On my most recent visit to Laurie’s, I’d done a lot of vet work on the herd and taken some X-rays of one of the ponies, who decided to kick me firmly in the shin. The other pony wasn’t getting vaccinated, as she’d knocked Laurie down and run away as fast as her fat little legs could carry her.

I was tired and sore, and I was glad to be cleaning up when Laurie announced that the dogs and cats needed shots. I sighed and set my dirty equipment down on the tailgate of the truck. One of these days I was going to start saying no to dog and cat work.

We set up on her back porch and got through all the dogs and the few cats that she could catch. It went very smoothly until we got to Devil Breath, a huge black barn cat.

Devil Breath was semi-feral on a good day, but he hated vets, and it was an art to get him safely vaccinated. I’d done a rapid exam and given the shots after speed-rolling Devil Breath in a towel. I wanted to watch him for a bit, so Laurie put him back into the carrier and set it in the shade.

My vet truck sat nearby, and the door to the vet unit was hanging open. As usual, I’d forgotten to close it, and my tailgate was a mess of dirty dental equipment and a used sheath-cleaning bucket with brown wads of cotton floating in the water.

A Foul Escape

Devil Breath was sulking in his carrier when Laurie’s husband saw him and exclaimed, “What did they do to you, Devil Breath?”

Suddenly, there was a clatter and a loud yell, and the husband stumbled into view clutching his arm and uttering expletives. Devil Breath shot past us, leaped onto my tailgate, knocked the sheath-cleaning bucket over, then disappeared into the depths of my open vet truck.

I watched in dismay as the foul water flowed into the truck, but soon realized that I had even worse problems, because Devil Breath was doing other things in there as the spilled sheath water pursued him. The smell of cat urine was overpowering.

Laurie gasped.

“Oh, Dr. Diehl! Your poor truck!”

I was more worried about her poor husband, who was now leaning against the house moaning, so I sent Laurie for some antiseptic.

I should have known better than to leave the vet truck open. They’re a magnet for barn and ranch cats, and over the years, I’d inadvertently stolen and safely returned several stowaways. I had learned a few tricks for de-catting my truck prior to leaving a farm, and confidently jumped behind the wheel.

I started the loud diesel engine, which is usually enough to scatter any hiding cats, then pumped the throttle a few times for good measure. Then I turned the truck uphill so the foul sheath water would drain from the vet unit, and I figured that Devil Breath would be long gone.

Except he wasn’t. I shined my flashlight into the unit, and disembodied eyes glared at me from the depths of the truck. When the smell of cat feces hit me, I realized that Devil Breath had engaged his entire arsenal, and that it was now officially war.

I yanked the unit’s sliding drawers out as far as they would go and began removing my equipment and supplies, stacking everything on Laurie’s deck. When the truck was empty, I opened the gull wing door on top of the unit, borrowed Laurie’s hose, and stuck it into the depths of the fouled vet unit. Then I turned it on full blast.

There was a muffled yowl, and Devil Breath shot from the back of the unit, followed by a flow of gross water and clumps of feces. I ran the hose for a good 10 minutes, removing all traces of the battle, then sprayed everything down with disinfectant and replaced my gear.

Laurie was preparing to take her husband to the hospital and had loaded the poor man into their little red Mazda. She rolled down her window as they drove past.

“Did you get him out?” she yelled.

I pointed in the direction of her barn. “Sorry about the mess in your yard.”

She shrugged.

“Well, at least he won’t poop in my barn!” Then she clapped her husband heartily on the shoulder as they drove off. “And Dr. Diehl gave him the rabies shot right before he bit you, so it’s your lucky day, dear.”

Returning to the Present

My phone squawked at me.

“Hello? Dr. Diehl, are you still there? The owner said Devil Breath might be difficult, do you have any recommendations?”

I snapped back to reality, and realized I was still on the phone with the vet clinic.

“A suit of armor, gauntlets, and a full-face shield should do it,” I said. “And nose plugs.”

The woman laughed merrily.

“Oh Dr. Diehl, you’re always so funny. We’ll keep our eyes peeled for those records.”

“You do that.” I told her. “I’ve retired from small animal practice.”

This edition of Vet Adventures appeared in the August 2023 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!