Unbusinesslike

He and me.

Daddy was not a businessman.

Rancher. Hereford Organization (Federal and Provincial) president, past president and secretary. Church leader. Good neighbour. Veterinarian.

Husband. Father. Son. Brother. Uncle. Cousin. Friend.

He was all of those things.

But he wasn’t a businessman.

Maybe I should explain...

Daddy was raised by parents who exemplified the word ‘service’.

And he did the same. Selflessly giving of his time and expertise when asked—and even some times when not.

And he was always ready to help a neighbour—be it relative or friend.

As the only veterinarian for 100 miles, Daddy was much in demand—especially in times of emergency. Whenever there was an epidemic of something among the animals of the area, he was on hand to provide vaccinations. (During several rabies scares, he vaccinated some very, very feral barn cats—and had the scars to prove it!) If someone’s cow was calving, or a horse or bull had run afoul of some barbed wire and needed emergency stitchery, again, he was there.

These animals were the livelihood of these ranchers. Daddy understood and did everything in his considerable power to help out.

And that’s also where he ran into trouble.

Because he knew, first hand, the slim margins for profit these fellow ranchers worked under, and that the loss of even one animal could spell ruin. Also because the cost of medical aid was something they could ill afford, he tried to help there as well.

By not charging full price for his vet services—and sometimes no price at all.

The neighbours loved him.

And many credited him with keeping them afloat.

But, yes. Daddy wasn’t a businessman.

He was a good man.

And I’m forever grateful!