I love traveling with dogs, I suppose it represents time off, vacation, more importantly its special time bonding with the particular dogs that have joined in whatever endeavor I am on at the time. We always come home closer with a deeper friendship. I have anxiety in the absence of dogs. Growing up, my father was extremely violent when intoxicated. Back then you just pretended it never happened. I found safety from his rampage with dogs, in a world that never made sense to me , horses and dogs always accepted me, they stood up for me, gave me purpose, and identity through competition. Humans not so much.
Recently on a trip to deliver a pup, combined with a visit with my Mom, Daughter and grandchildren, I saw on the side of a country road outside a small farming community, a man sitting in a lawn chair, next to an old faded blue ford truck, its bed filled with corn. Homemade painted piece of plywood said , "Fresh Sweet Corn 4 Sale" As our Indian Summer was approaching, I realized, I had not, as of yet, enjoyed any sweet corn. I pulled over . The gentleman , Zeb, I later learned was his name, asked, " How many dozen can I get ya? " My trip eleven hours each way. I replied, " Well , I'm not sure, I am down from the U.P. How long does it stay good?" Zeb replies, " I'll jump in, and lets pick ya some fresh." Zeb is suddenly riding shotgun in my truck! I am thinking, 1. As a forensic SANE nurse this is neither smart or safe. 2. At 62, I am probably not a prime assault target. 3. Serial killers typically do not use sweet corn as bait.
Zeb sees my R.N. nurse badge hanging from my review mirror, along with a RCAC gun dog ribbon from my last field trial with ROKY. The three dogs in my truck introduce themselves as he starts giving me directions ." Your a nurse?, These your huntin dogs? You hunt yoursef? Turn right by that big ol oak tree yonder." My mind wanders, my heart says cool!, adventure!, this guy is a character worth knowin, plus the dogs need to air out a bit, maybe they will get a chance, where ever it is we are going. My brain says, "Get this sum bitch out of your truck now! This may be the one and only sweet corn serial killer!" Heck my friend Tom , having issues with wild hogs in Texas, baited them into traps with what?? ... Sweet corn that's what!
My heart wins as it usually does , and I decide I'm in, both feet and three French Brittany's. Within 15 minutes we arrive at a farm, centered among corn fields, hay fields, and a pasture with about a half dozen dairy cows. A collie mix trots out to my truck, Zeb gets out and says, " Its ok Gertie, they are just visiting, mind yer manners now" , then he says, " you can let em out" , referring to my dogs. For safety, I put their, garmin e collars on, Zeb looked on amused, " pretty fandangled outfit you got there" " Never know " I say. Zeb leads me to a corn field were I get a tutorial on picking sweet corn, tassel color , kernel color, maturity, I mean you just don't go a pickin without thought here, GMO , non GMO, conversations getting serious now, I find out Zeb is a veteran , father, grandfather, husband, and third generation farmer. Zeb also leans pretty far right. We shared our faith, political views, work ethic, good dog and bad dog stories. Three dozen ears of corn later, Zeb says, " I best get back to my truck, hey since your a nurse would you mind looking at my cows boll? " Hmm, I think, cow boll?, or a bulls ball? either way Zeb feels its worthy of me seeing it. I follow him into a super cool old dairy barn, he disappears briefly and comes back leading " Tammy" named after Tammy Wynette, by a belt around her neck, the collie trotting quietly behind her. On her left hip / flank area is a rather large , grapefruit size abscess. " I cant hold her and drain that thing at the same time, whatcha think of it? " I come along side of her, and gently palpate the soft mass, off to the side of it, I feel a soft squishier spot. " I can lance it, do you have any pennicillin ?" Zeb says, " Yup in the fridge" , I interrupt Miss Olive snacking on cow manure, I say let me go get my bag, I carry a medical bag for my animals whenever I travel, it just lives in the truck. I load my three dogs, and return to the barn. I use a number 10 disposable scalpel, wondering if it will be big enough. I wash the area with hibiclense, then dump a bunch of betadine over the it where I felt the soft spot. I asked Zeb if I was about to get cow kicked, he chuckled, and said , Tammy can be a little ornery . I got as close as I could to her, and quickly stabbed that abscess, she jumped, and threw her head into Zeb, took him off his feet briefly, as the " Boll" aka boil, drained under pressure and deflated like a water balloon. I irrigated the inside with saline and betadine. then packed it with some bacitracin ointment. Zeb was tickled pink . I told him that I would start her on Pennicillin if she'd put up with it, Zeb said he was already a step ahead of me. As we drove back to Zebs truck / road side stand, Zeb says , "The sweet corns on me, say what would you think of buying a trailer load from me, .. cheap! then you could sell it up there in the yoop, you know make yersef a few bucks? " I tell him as we arrive at his truck, " As much as being a sweet corn broker appeals to me, I have to say no. Thank you though for the offer." Zeb replies, " Suit yersef , ya know where to find me , ya change your mind." With that he was out of my truck opening a lipton tea, and back sitting in his lawn chair.
pickin corn and cow bolls
