JB the Vet

Jackie Johnson (JB or "Jackie Boy") was a pretty awesome man and I could only wish to be one fifth the man he was! I had watched in amazement when he would true up a warped bicycle wheel by tweaking spokes according to his findings by that curious dial indicator device or replace a burned out element in a stove simply by looking at it and doing it without instruction. JB was a patient man but had a temper. I had seen him bring the hammer down and felt his embrace, but this tops it all.

JB had a certain way with animals, and I had alluded to his uncanny knack in "All Things Wise And Wonderful". He had performed many field surgical and field dressing of animals in distress including a dog with a torn "dew" claw, emergency tail amputation (one tail hung around for several years, and was used to great comedic foil through those years) and the results of rat encounters and eight year old boys. JB could handle anything!

Matt, Allen Rowe and I were in the back yard watching Matt's cat chasing the popping plug Matt was casting when kitty decided to pounce and wham! That poor cat got all sorts of tangled up in hooks. Poor kitty didn't know what to do but try and run away which just drove hooks deeper and added to anguish. Matt quickly let out the drag and brought the kitty to a somewhat controlled stop that looked for all the world to be a wild segment of a Bill Dance show. Throwing the rod down, he ran to the rescue of the now-hogtied cat that was in no mood for such tomfoolery!

Daddy was in the shop, fidgeting with a reloading die at his gun bench when the three of us raced through the door in a panic as the poor kitty was not one bit happier about the transport to the trauma center and was exponentially increasing it's protest of the predicament. Kitty howled and hissed in displeasure as Matt related to JB how the predicament came to be. As Matt told the tale of woe, kitty jerked it's entangled paw even further to the point that the barb of the hook potruded clean through it's paw. Upon the sight of such, I immediately turned away and suffered a huge case of "the willies".

JB didn't say a word. He swiftly grabbed kitty by the scruff of the neck, scooped up a wire cutter laying on the workbench and clipped off the barbed end of the hook. He then slid the barbless hook out backwards as deftly as a surgeon and instructed me to open the bottle of merthiolade and the bottle of peroxide he kept in his "first aid" cabinet....the most-visited spot in JB's shop!

When he had backed the hook out he had me first pour peroxide all over the wound, then to soak the paw with merthiolade and back up. I was curious about the "backing up" part, but obliged upon completion of this curious potion JB was inventing now. I was secretly hoping the next step involved gunpowder and what happened next was even better.

The merthiolade burned it's way deep into the puncture wound and began it's task of microbial elimination much to the chagrin of kitty's neural system and kitty took a huge bite of Daddy's hand. Not a nip, not a snap but a big ole honking, teeth-sunk-in growling with a puffy tail bite! Kitty growled in an odd, muffled way and shook it's head to show how it really felt!

Daddy didn't flinch, he just loosened his grip and kitty bolted in a black and white flash. Oh, that's why we stand back!

As kitty bolted away to restore it's pride Daddy poured peroxide and then merthiolade on the wounded hand and didn't say a word, and returned to the reloading bench as we raced to tell everyone in the neighborhood what happened. It always made the story more valid when a third party was present!

Y'all have a rice day!