We went first to a local cattle ranch so Uncle Dale could deliver some medicines, then we made our way several miles south to a home of horse owners who had called complaining that their six-year-old quarter horse was thrashing around.
“What do you think it is, Doc?” my father said to my uncle as we drove toward the house at the top of a hill.
“Probably just colic, or some kind of impaction.”
“I think we should let Nate examine the horse. What do you think?”
“Sure, that’s a great idea.”
I kept quiet in the back but wondered why they were acting so strangely.
We pulled up behind a huge red barn where we were met by two young women. They greeted us with friendly smiles. I noticed the taller of the two had her blond hair braided perfectly over her shoulders.
Dale waved as he walked past them into the barn. “Morning, ladies.”
“Morning, Dale,” they said in unison.
“I’m Nate.” I put my hand out as I approached, but they started laughing. The shorter, dark-haired girl looked away shyly.
“We know,” the girl with braids said. “You’re the doctor.”
“Yes, I’m a doctor.”
“I’m a doctor, too,” my father interrupted wryly, but the girls didn’t seem to care.
They followed us into the barn where we found Dale in one of the stalls looking over a mare.
“Get in here, Nate, and put on one of those gloves.” He pointed to a long plastic glove hanging out of his case.
My father leaned over the stall door and watched the show. “Go on, Nate. Get the glove on, son.”
I moved into the stall, took the glove in hand, and proceeded to pull it all the way up to my shoulder. The girls watched and tried to suppress their laughter.
“What’s going on?”
“Come on, Nate. You can’t be that clueless,” my dad said.
Dale turned to him. “See how smart that fancy college made your boy?”
I looked to the girls for a clue. The short one laughed into her hands before the one in braids said, “You’re gonna have to stick your hand up the horse’s ass and pull out the poo.” She burst into laughter and then they scurried away.
“What? No. No. I can’t. Do you know how much these hands are worth?”
“Come on, Nate, give me a break. Nothing is going to happen to your hand, just be gentle with her. You don’t want to get kicked in the balls. I can’t imagine it feels very good to have a bony arm like yours up her ass.” My father was really enjoying himself.
“Why do I have to do this?”
“Because we’ve both paid our dues.”
“Dear god.” I moved toward the rear of the mare and looked up to Dale.
“Pet her real nice, right there on her behind. Let her know you come in peace.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“And a horse’s ass.”
“Stop it, Dad!”
Dale came over with a large milk jug full of clear gel. “Hand out, son. Got to lube her up first.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You two are enjoying this.”
“Immensely,” my father said.
Uncle Dale continued petting the mare’s head and trying to calm her. “Nate, I’ve done this a million times. Dolly here is constipated. She needs us to help her out. Now work your way in there and see if you can’t find the blockage.”
I hesitated, staring at Dolly’s hindquarters as she whipped her tail around.
“She seems pissed,” I said.
“She’s just really uncomfortable. You’ll see once you grow a set and get this procedure under way.”
“I don’t know if I should be doing this. This horse isn’t familiar with me.”
“What do you want to do, take her out on a date? You’re a doctor, kid. Buck up.”
With no expression on my face, I looked back toward the stall door and my father’s smug grin. “No more talking, Dad.”
I pushed my hand into poor Dolly’s backside and immediately discovered the culprit. The odor alone could have killed a small animal. Gagging, I pulled handful after handful of . . . well . . . poo, out of the horse’s enormous anal cavity. About ten minutes into the procedure, Dolly seemed to relax and feel better.
“She likes you, Nate,” my uncle said.
I’d had too many encounters with shit since I’d been on the ranch to find humor in anything my father or uncle said. “That’s it. She’s good,” I mumbled as I pulled the disgusting glove off my hand. I walked out into the main part of the barn to a sink where I attempted to wash the skin off my hands.
The girl with the braids came over. “Hey, Nate. You did really good in there.”
“Thanks. It took a great deal of skill pulling poop out of that horse’s butt.”
“How long are you in town for?” She didn’t get that I was making a joke.
I stepped back and dried my hands on my flannel shirt. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Wanna go out and have some fun tonight?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, cocked my head to the side, and looked down at her in a fatherly way. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.” She looked seventeen at best.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I’ll show you my driver’s license.”
“No need . . .” I paused, realizing I didn’t even know her name.