The most important drawer in my desk

I gave a talk to a group of undergraduate students at the veterinary school at Texas A&M the other day, and it got me thinking about why I do what I do. These students were all pre-veterinary majors and hoped someday to get to do what I do every day for the rest of their lives.

As I met with them they asked question after question about being a veterinarian and what life was like. They all had stories about other veterinarians who'd told them they shouldn't do it. It's true-it seems as if many veterinarians have become bitter and burned out on our profession and actively tell up-and-coming pre-veterinary students to pursue a different path.

After the class was over and I was making the seven-hour drive back to Lamesa, I had plenty of time to think about what we had discussed. I wondered what made all those veterinarians so bitter about our profession that they would discourage the next generation from becoming veterinarians.

I finally decided that it was because they never kept a “Why I Do It” drawer. About 20 years ago I started putting thank you letters in the bottom drawer of my desk. There are stories of little girls whose horses would have died without a colic surgery, notes from old women who were thankful to still have their dog, cards from people who just wanted to thank us for making the last few days of their pets' life comfortable, and stories of pigs that won a big show.

There are cards signed by 50 little first-graders thanking us for letting them tour the clinic. There are cards from saddle recipients who'd won roping competitions or barrel races we'd sponsored because we were blessed enough to have the means to share. There are pictures of horses winning big races and little kids holding puppies. There are Future Farmers of America students standing in the winner's circle with a lamb that would have died if we hadn't seen it. There are booklets from graduation ceremonies that I've been privileged to speak at-an opportunity I never would have been afforded without the education and exposure that being a veterinarian gave me.

There are hundreds upon hundreds of thank you cards reminding me that in this little corner of the world, I have made a difference. And this drawer-the bottom drawer of my ancient metal desk that came with the clinic when I bought it 23 years ago-has now spilled over to the other drawers. I no longer have a “Why I Do It” drawer, I have three drawers full.

And when I get down on being a veterinarian for whatever reason that day offers, I sometimes open one of those drawers and remind myself why I do this, one little letter, note and picture at a time.

The next time I go talk to students who are hoping to become veterinarians for a living, I'm gonna reach into one of those drawers, pull out a handful of reasons why they should do it, and take them with me to read. I'm really glad I made the decision all those years ago to save the precious little notes from the people whose lives I've touched. I had no idea that someday it might encourage the next generation of folks who want to spend a career making people and their animals smile.