When I was a practicing otologic surgeon, I’d be amused when patients brought framed pictures of their dog or cat to place on the bedside table in their hospital room. They’d show me the picture and tell me how much they loved and missed their pet. Some would even cry. I was always sympathetic, but I never quite understood their attachment.

That’s because as a child, I never owned a pet. A mutt followed me home once when I was nine years old, but my father wouldn’t allow me keep him. Ours was not a pet-friendly family.

Then my attitude changed in the late 1990s. My wife and I lived on a ranch in Southwest Texas near the small community of Utopia. The property was approximately eighty miles northwest of San Antonio.

There was a severe drought during that period and does were abandoning their fawns. One of the men who worked for me found a fawn on the side of the road that was about three days old. Miraculously, the fire ants and coyotes hadn’t found the little guy. Rather than allow it to die, the man brought the fawn back to the ranch. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he felt sorry for the little fellow.

We had a multitude of deer on the property, and I enjoyed watching them feed in the early morning and again at twilight. I thought they were beautiful, graceful animals. So when the fawn arrived, I took charge of him and named him Jasper.

Needless to say, I was a neophyte when it came to raising a wild animal. First of all, he was about the size of a small cat and frightened. I placed him in one of the stalls in our horse barn. That would be his home for about three months.

I was fortunate to have another young man working for me who had raised several fawns to adulthood. I relied heavily on his advice. I was told to feed Jasper a baby bottle full of goat’s milk four times a day. No problem there.

My wife was curious about the whole affair and would watch in on Jasper from time to time. She is an animal person and noticed that Jasper hadn’t voided or had a bowel movement in the five or six days I’d been feeding him. In my obtuse way, I’d failed to notice that.

When I mentioned this to my hired hand, he said, “Gosh, Doc, I plum forgot to tell you about that. See in the wild the mother licks the fawn’s private parts to get them started.”

            I blanched.

Then my man said, “All you’ve got to do is use one of those foil-wrapped baby wipes. Rub it over his privates once and that’ll take care of it.”

The next time I fed Jasper, that’s what’s what I did. I can’t explain how excited I was to see his stream of urine hit the wood shavings on the stall floor. Then, little pellets of feces popped out like machine-gun fire. I don’t know who was more relieved, me or Jasper.

Soon we were into our routine. I’d arise every morning at six, go the barn and fill a baby bottle with goat’s milk. As soon as Jasper heard the barn door open, he’d begin to squeal. I had no idea that deer made any noise at all. Opening the stall door, I’d walk in and kneel so I could give him the bottle. His little white tail would be wagging like a dog’s.

At noon, I’d give him a bottle and another one at six. Before going to bed, I’d go back to the barn and give Jasper his fourth bottle at ten. By the second day, as soon as I opened the stall door, Jasper would run to me and put his front legs up on mine, all the time squealing. Then I’d kneel and give him the bottle. As he suckled it, I’d stroke his back and tell him what a wonderful deer he was and how much I loved him.

Little by little I gained Jasper’s confidence. Several times through the workday I’d stop by his stall to visit. He’d come to me and I’d stroke his head and back. Then he’d snuggle up against my leg like a cat.

When Jasper was a month old, I built a pen for him on the lawn in front of the barn. If the weather was nice, I’d place a harness on him and take him out of the stall on a leash. He loved being outside and would sit calmly for hours at a time.

At two months of age, Jasper was allowed to roam freely around the barn area. I did take the precaution of placing a small bell around his long neck. By that time he would respond to his name and come to me when I called.

During those first two months I continued to feed him milk from a bottle four times a day. He was growing rapidly. I had an office next to the barn and I’d let him come in while I worked on the computer. He’d wander around the room, his hoofs making a clicking sound on the hardwood floor, and then he’d sit next to my chair.

Jasper received a bottle four times a day until he was three months old and then I weaned him off by transferring him to Milo and protein cubes. By that time, Jasper had the run of the property. He never went far from the barn, and would always come running when I called him, his bell tinkling.

While Jasper would let strangers walk up to him, I was the only one whom he’d let touch him. And he’d only come to me when called. At four months, he was a typical adolescent. He’d run around the barn like a streak of lightening and kick up his back legs up like a bucking bronco. I decided that’s why male deer are called bucks.

Poachers were known to hunt out of season, so I was in constant fear that someone would shoot Jasper. I placed ever larger bells around his neck and kept a close watch over him.

My wife and I decided to sell the ranch and move back to the city. The thought of leaving Jasper made me despondent. I was afraid the new owners wouldn’t take good care of him or protect him. Luckily, the young man who worked for me lived on a ranch and agreed to keep Jasper. I’d have full visiting rights.

The day before the moving van arrived, my hired hand and I placed Jasper in the backseat of my pickup and drove him to his new home. He behaved beautifully. There were cows and horses at the new property and Jasper felt right at home.

Six months later I visited Utopia and went to see Jasper. He’d grown to about the size of an average doe but still had no horns. He came to me the first time I called. It was a happy reunion and I was overcome with sadness as I drove away.

So, what did Jasper teach me?

1.) That the bond between humans and animals can be a strong one, and that the human can truly love the animal. Perhaps some animals love their masters. I don’t know the answer to that one.

2.) That someone like me can become an animal person. I have two dogs now whom I love dearly. Every afternoon at 5:30 we sit and watch the CBS News and have cocktails together. Rather I have a Jameson’s Irish whisky on the rocks while I throw them animal crackers that they deftly catch in their mouths.

3.) That pets enrich people’s lives. They also give children a sense of responsibility, and they’re great companions for older individuals.

4.) That a neophyte like me can nurture, love, and care for an animal.

 Now I understand why those patients brought pictures of their dogs to the hospital. If I ever have surgery, I’ll have a picture of Patty and Toddles on my bedside table.

 

 

         

 

Mike Glasscock