Thirty Years On

The following poem was delivered by its author, the late Gavin Gidley-Baird, at the 1998 Class reunion.

Thirty Years On

On the 9th of December, back in sixty-eight,

A new group of graduates was let out the gate.

Full of knowledge, to save one and all,

`Twas the ultimate high, before the great fall.

In those formative years, when left to our fate,

The learning curve went up, at a very steep rate.

Animals to treat, and clients to impress,

And always more to do, when one wants to do less.

For those going bush, T.B. testing was the rage,

Along with Strain 19, it helped pay our wage.

Out of the dust, the flies, and the heat,

Reading those bloody tags, till you’re out on your feet.

Those in the city, it is also true to say,

Were also not having, all things their own way.

The dreaded, “dog breeder Syndrome,” descended like a plague,

To test all the ethics, of those who appeared vague.

Universities and Governments, took some of our mob,

And taught them the cunning, to try keep their job.

To design projects, that appear quite obscure,

Keeps others not interested, and jobs more secure.

So, as those early years, got rolling along,

We learned to be right and admit when we’re wrong.

And grin, not grimace, at those who were bores,

For we must suffer the pain, for the good of the cause.

In the seventies, it was Parvo, that had to be beaten,

With its external views, of what dogs had eaten.

Vets and their nurses, would baulk at that smell,

Knowing what followed, was “three days of hell”.

Prospects and Partnerships, we all had to assess,

As to whether we get more or end up with less.

Marriages and Mortgages, became part of the norm,

Then along came the kids, to whip up a storm.

School fees to pay, and Practices to run,

We seemed to work harder, with less time for fun.

“You’re never at home,” was the often-said phrase,

As you wonder like hell, “how I’ll get out of this maze.”

Obscure lameness’s to solve, and colts to geld,

And working out times, that drugs be withheld,

Keeping the indemnity paid up, in case you’re wrong,

‘Cause if you are, you’ll hear before long.

Heifers to calve, and milk fevers to treat,

And prolapses to replace, as you’d not have defeat.

Those bloody Herd Health’s, keep rolling around,

It sure is a help, if you’re mentally unsound.

Employees became Employers, as the years gathered speed,

We learned super, holiday pay, and taxes to be heed.

We’ve became computer literate, and that’s no mean feat,

To tackle those Academics, with whom we compete.

Advertising and ethics, have changed over the years,

And now both are exploited, by some of our peers.

Soliciting goes unchecked, and undercutting is rife,

And Vet. Board’s too weak, to sort out the strife.

New graduates, also, we’re all happy to employ,

We’ve juggled the clients, and the calls did deploy.

We’ve repaired their wrecked cars, and followed up their cases,

And when finally, they’re trained, they’re off to new places.

Time has flown so quickly, since that ’68 date,

And will probably proceed at an accelerating rate.

Yet as we filter the past back to that ’68 night,

We know in our hearts, that vet science was so right.

The reunions will roll round, and we’ll talk of the past,

And look at each other and wonder who’ll last.

The roll call will be less, as the years roll on bye,

And there’ll be more at reunions, up in the sky.

Gavin Gidley-Baird 19.05.98