“The syringe, Mrs. Melba!”
Scrambling through the rails, she flushed the thiabendazol into the end of the tube that I held out for her.
“The chaser, Mrs. Melba!”
She hurriedly produced the water and flushed the remaining medication into Sweet William. With a quick puff into the tube, I pulled it from his nose and released him. Shaking his head, William retired to the back of his pen, screwed up his lip, and watched me climb through the rails.
I was regaining my composure by the time I reached the car and pulled off my coveralls. Mrs. Melba scurried behind me carrying my bucket and dose syringe.
“Are you all right, Dr. Perrin?”
All right! Why shouldn’t I be all right? I always went around smelling like a billy goat; the back of my shirt was frequently saturated with semen.
“Yes, Mrs. Melba...I’m just fine. Now I understand where the old saying ‘hornier than a billy goat’ comes from.”
Without a trace of a smile, she replied, “Buck, Dr. Perrin. William is a buck, not a billy goat!”