We bought Cover Girl Mattie as a yearling. Like her name, she was beautiful. We trained her to race and after winning many races and surviving a racing accident, she retired and became a mommy.

Mattie’s first baby came into the world with slight difficulty. In veterinary school we were taught that a foal should be delivered with their nose coming in between their two front feet/legs. We were taught that any abnormal presentation needed correction and that correction was accomplished by pushing the foal back into the mother’s uterus, correcting the incorrect position, and then having the foal delivered correctly. In about two seconds I learned that this is easier said than done.

I arrived home from my nursing work at 12:30 AM to find Mattie’s baby coming with ONE leg and his nose. I called some local farmers because everyone knows it is critical to deliver a foal quickly and if there are problems, they need addressed or mom and/or baby could be lost.

I tried to push that foal back to correct the position as I was taught, but I couldn’t. He didn’t budge when I pushed with all my strength. I placed my hand inside Mattie and determined that the foal’s right front leg was back, but had enough room to be delivered. I began pulling the foal’s left front leg and the mouth.  This was difficult because foals are wet and slippery. Mattie strained to push as I pulled. I put my foot on the back of her rear leg for leverage to pull more strenuously  on the foal.  I yelled, “Push, Mattie” as she continued to push and I continued to pull.

We worked for what seemed like an eternity but was probably 10-15 minutes. Finally, that foal plopped out onto the straw bedding in the stall. He looked exactly like his mommy- a huge black boy with long spindly legs. As I admired him, Mattie fell to the ground. I couldn’t move. I began crying and asked the farmers who had arrived to help me if she died. The memories of vet calls where mamas ruptured blood vessels and died during foaling filled my thoughts. As a veterinarian, I should have checked her, but as her owner and mama, I couldn’t. I was too upset and afraid. With calm voices, they assured me she was just exhausted.

After a short rest, Mattie stood up  She instinctively knew she had to have this little guy nurse. The first milk is important for foals because it provides proteins that protect against disease and are only absorbed in the first 24 hours of life. Both Mattie’s and her foal’s legs wobbled as I helped him into position to suckle. She nuzzled him as if to say, ‘Hello, son, I am your mommy.’ I watched Mattie love her first little boy.

The colt ran in the pasture as if nothing ever went wrong with his welcome into this world. He bounced off his mother and when he ran one direction, she followed as quickly as she could to keep up with the little guy. He wore her out. Most moms know how this is with their little ones. He was fast. He was born to race.

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I worked as a home health nurse for children. Every child I cared for was precious to me, but one particular young man had a special place in my heart. He was ten years old when I met him and lived with his grandmother, father, and  uncles.

I cared for him at night time and brought soda, donuts, and movies for us to enjoy until wee hours of the mornings. We played checkers and other board games on the floor of his bedroom. He loved “Angels in the Outfield” and “Richie Rich” movies as well as others.

We became very good friends and we invited him along for fun during the daytime hours. He had a condition that made his legs too weak to walk so he was wheelchair bound. When we went places, I would pick him up, transfer him to the car, and put the wheelchair in the trunk. Everything is portable. We went to movies and stores. One day we decided to go to a park called “Swings and Things.” There were go- carts, bumper boats, and putt putt golf for kids to enjoy.

He  was unable to push the gas pedal in the go – carts and they were too small for both of us to sit in, but we had a blast in the bumper boats. I carried him into the boat- a small rubber water craft in a little pool- and sat next to him. I held him safely the entire time. As my step daughter ‘bumped’ into us with her bumper boat, this little boy threw his head back and laughed so much his belly shook.

After the bumper boats, I placed him in his wheelchair, and we headed to the putting greens. I have never been a fan of golf, but am a great lover of putt putt. As we made our way through each of the greens, I noticed that when he putted, my step daughter placed her putter in front of his hole-  blocking his putt from going into the hole. I was astounded, I said, ‘You do realize he’s in a wheelchair?’ She didn’t care, she kept doing it.

Then when she putted, he wheeled closely to the hole and blocked her putt with his putter. I was exasperated. I said, ‘You both are terrible, I have some news, we are NOT keeping score any longer. If you each have to win so badly you do this to each other, we will not keep score.’ That worked. They stopped sabotaging each others’ putts and we had fun finishing our putting. We had some lunch and finished our fun day.

I realized I was glad she never seemed to see the wheelchair, she just treated him like a regular boy. He appreciated that.

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My brother inspired my love for kayaking along the spring fed rivers in Florida. Each time I visited him and his wife, I was determined to see manatees. However, the manatees only come into the springs when the ocean waters they live in become cold in winter months because the water is warmer water in the springs – the temperature is a constant 72 degrees Fahrenheit. For many ears I was either too early or too late to see manatees, but never seemed to miss the gators.

One visit my brother, his wife, and I canoed Alexander Springs. While cruising the river  my brother fished and caught three bass. As  he admired his catch, other river travelers passing by told us there was a gator up the way with babies sitting on her back. This I wanted to see.  My brother agreed.

He used shoe laces to secure the bass to a tree along the river. Pretty ingenious we all thought. The three of us continued along the river and spotted the mother gator with many little babies on her back. Usually I am terrified of gators, but I thought this was so great I had no fear at all! I took pictures and ‘oohed’ and ‘aaahed’ and acted like a tourist that just arrived in Florida.

As we returned to retrieve the bass, suddenly my brother jumped out of the canoe and swam to his fish. At first we couldn’t see the reason for my brother’s frantic actions. Soon we noticed the thieving otters trying to steal his bass. They must have thought “WHAT AN EASY CATCH TODAY!” My brother, however, had no intentions of allowing those fish to be apprehended by those otters. He was fearless and unconcerned that the otters could present a problem or even bite him. If it was me I would have given those cute little otters the fish. Their faces seemed confused as they watched him retrieved his bass> We finished our canoeing and my brother tells the story of how he almost lost his bass because I wanted to see some gator babies on their mother’s back.

It was a great day on the river.

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I am amused at the names my clients give the family pets. From Fizzgig to Gator , many have favorite characters or family members they name their pet after.

We adopted a little tiger cat who was a terror from the moment she came into our home. She raced everywhere in the house, darted under furniture, climbed draperies, and jumped from counters to cabinets to the floor. She was exhausting. My step  daughter loved cats and this kitten was her favorite.

When we named her, I asked my step daughter what name she wanted for this kitten. We both agreed she was a monster. We thought about naming her Monster. Then, my step daughter  thought more and she said, ‘Well, I really like the name Donna.’

We considered our options. Should we name her Monster or Donna? We went back and forth and still couldn’t decide. Then she said, ‘Well, I also like the name Lisa.’

What to do? Now we had three names to choose from. Should she be Monster, Donna, or Lisa? Since we couldn’t decide, we did the only logical thing, we named her Monster Donna Lisa. When you said this about 100 times, it sounded like a real name anyone might name their pet. I am certain there are NO other cats in the world named Monster Donna Lisa, but there are many unique other names as well as the usual names like Bella and Max and Tiger, and others.

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I was assigned to castrate 3 appaloosa horses for a client. When I arrived at the farm, the couple who owned the horses were quite pleasant and we talked for a short while before beginning the surgeries.

When I do this surgery, I prefer to put the horse on the ground and pull one rear leg forward by tying it to a rope around the horse’s neck Then I complete the castration. Surgery went perfectly for the first horse, however, midway through surgery on the second horse, things did not go so well. He stood up  with his leg tied. There’s a first time for every disaster I always say. I administered additional medication to put him back on the ground. He fell on the opposite side, so I pulled the other back leg forward and tied it to the rope around his neck. I finished the castration. Yes! Both back legs were tied in a forward position at this time. I finished, untied both legs, let him wake up, and prepared to castrate the last horse.

Before we started the third horse, the owners asked to take a break and went into their home. As I waited for them to return, crazy thoughts went through my mind. I thought they were calling my boss to tell him they did not want me to do the last castration because I had so much trouble keeping the second horse down. I thought they were planning to tell me to leave their farm. The fearful thoughts were overwhelming.

When they came out, he said, “My wife and I were talking about you.”

I prepared for the worst as I thought, ‘I knew it! Here it comes.’

Then he said, “We really like you, you don’t talk down to us. You talk like a regular person.” I was so relieved and said, “I thought you were upset with me and calling the boss because I had to give a second dose of medication to the second horse.”

They replied, “Oh, no. We weren’t upset about that, he (the boss) had to give additional medication to a horse down THREE times one day to complete a castration.”

I was amazed. It makes me think I am the only one difficult moments happen to when others don’t admit circumstances don’t always go perfectly for them.  As time goes on I realize everyone has difficulties and no one has perfect moments every moment.

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One of my favorite things to do in Florida is walk the beaches searching for shells. I never realized shells have specific names- like turretella, yellow land snail, florida welk, scallops, telescopium, angel wings or concus aulicus- to name a few. I simply call them clam shells, conchs, spiral shells, and pretty ones. Once I found a sand dollar and a starfish. Friends enjoy showing me the shells they found.

Of all the shells I find, the ones I treasure most are the broken ones. I find more fragments of shells than perfect, whole shells. I collect the fragments of shells to add to shell crafts because I think they are still beautiful.

The broken shells remind me of me- broken and imperfect. So many times I catch myself saying exactly what I did not want to say. I wish I had the opportunity to relive moments and do them better a second time around. Why did I become impatient? Why did I give someone the impression I had no time for them? Why did I need to feel superior to someone else? Regretting moments is an ongoing battle. New Year’s Eve is approaching. I want to be better. I want those around me know how much I appreciate them, how kind and helpful they are to me and how they make my life better just being in it. I want to choose words that let them know they are valuable and worthwhile.

Sometimes the broken shells remind me of people I love. It seems easier to accept imperfection in myself than those around me. I want them to know I see the beauty in them, the value in them. This New Year’s I want to be patient and kind. I want to believe the best in all around me and never notice if anyone does wrong to me. I want them to know they are special to me- every moment, every day. I want to be there to share their struggles as well as their celebrations.

A thanks- to those who have seen me at my best and at my worst and cannot tell the difference because they love me so much. I want to love everyone else the same.

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During my last year in veterinary school I chose rotations that allowed me to ride with the zoo veterinarian. The Columbus, Ohio zoo had 2 baby twin gorillas. We were taught that it was not advisable to touch the gorillas due to the possibility of disease transmission, but the temptation was more than I could bear.

One day I stood outside the twin gorillas pen and watched as they delighted in swinging around the tree branches and patting their chests. They would stop and look at me to make sure I was still watching them- and I was. They played for a while, then one of them came to the front of the cage and put his arm through the bars stretching as much as he could trying to reach his little hand my way. Priceless. I wanted to reach out and grab that little hand. I did not see cameras, but am certain they were around that enclosure. I imagined bells and whistles going off if I dared touch that little guy. I did not touch him or his twin, but I wanted to.

On another trip to the zoo, I learned the zoo employees wanted to repair a broken structure in the outdoor exhibit of the gorillas. The females were inside, but the males refused to come in. When the zoo veterinarian and the few students with him (I was one of them) stepped out of the truck, the male gorillas began running full speed into the indoor enclosure. We laughed stating, “Doc, it looks like they know you.” He had his tranquilizer gun in hand and, indeed, they did know him- even from the distance we were away from them.

I was told that when the veterinarian shoots the tranquilizer into the gorilla, they must be very careful because the gorilla is able to pick the syringe off their body. They throw it back at the veterinarian. This can be dangerous because the medications used to tranquilize the gorilla are very powerful and can cause harm and even death to a human. We found it amusing they were intelligent enough to do this. Then, as we were told the gorillas throw the darts back at the veterinarian, we were told they hand the syringe to their caregivers. “Awe,” we said, we wished we were their caregivers instead of their veterinarians.

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I love Christmas. I decorate trees, find a special new ornament each year, set out my nativities- a collection I am proud of, and send Christmas cards to family and friends. I decorate the outside of the house and bushes and scan magazines and library books for Christmas crafts. I spend hours in front of the television watching holiday movies and look forward to family time as well as time with friends. I enjoy finding the perfect gifts for everyone. My radio station plays non-stop Christmas music – a treat I look forward to each year. In short, I love it all. I am one of those who wishes it could be Christmas 365 days a year!

My friends and family do a cookie swap each year. I am always assigned the oatmeal cookies because everyone is aware of my baking limitations. I enjoy the great meals with pumpkin and apple pies. We attend church on Christmas eve and include others to share our holiday who may not have family to spend time with.

But when I think about Christmas, I realize the reason I love Christmas so much is because of the real meaning of the season. It is the time I get to thank God for sending His very best. My search for Christmas does not take me to a palace with plush royalty and all the comforts of wealth. My search takes me to a much different and unusual place. In find Christmas in a manger-  where my Savior was a Baby born to a peasant girl who believed the angel of God who told her she would be the mother of Jesus and not to be afraid. There was no room in the inn, so I find Him in that stable one quiet, holy night thousands of years ago. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes and visited by a few shepherds. Wise men traveled far to see Him.

I have found Christmas. I have made the choice to be one of the wise people that still seek Jesus. I know the reason for the season. He is my King and the Baby born to live and die for all to live. Glory to God in the Highest and on Earth, peace and good will toward men.

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I wanted fresh eggs every morning. Obviously, the only way to have this is to have a chicken. But where to get a chicken?

One of my favorite clients knew where to get chickens. He hatched eggs and seemed to know everything you could imagine about chickens, ducks, geese, and many other birds. I shared my problem with him and, since he was going to an auction where chickens were sold, he offered to buy a chicken for me.

When he brought me my chicken, he brought what he called 6 chickens and one rooster. He said a rooster among the chickens helps the egg laying process. What did I know? As an unexpected surprise, he thought I would like a little Bantam hen and rooster. They were tiny and cute. I took them and instantly fell in love. I named her Henny Penny after children’s stories I read, and him Cock A Doodle-for obvious reasons.

Having cats that were bigger than the Bantams presented a problem. The cats treated the Bantams like toys. When attacked by the cats, they ran and flew to me. Sometimes they flew on the backs of the horses. Surprisingly, the horses did not mind them on their backs. I scooped them up and held them safely from the cats. It was obvious these two little ones were someone’s pets and hand raised.

One day we could not find Cock A Doodle. We thought the worst happened. I left for work sad to say good – bye to him. Later that evening, my friend called to tell me he was working in the vegetable garden and suddenly he heard a cock a doodle doo and turned to see that little rooster strutting his way. He was fine and had been hiding from the cats.

There’s amazing math involved in chicken procreation. These two little birds had many little Henny’s and little Doodle’s. Eventually I had 30 chickens and roosters.

Also, the six chickens and one rooster I was supposed to have received turned out to be six roosters and one chicken. She did lay wonderful and delicious eggs, but the boys did not stay, they fight. So much for someone knowing the difference between chickens and roosters at that young age. It can be challenging.

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Invite all your friends- $50.00 cash or gift card for the winning story about your favorite holiday memory. Contest if for 200-800 words. Deadline is December 20, 2016. Submit all stories to terriesizemorestoryteller@gmail.com. The winning one will be posted on Facebook.