11/26/2025
We love looking back at the incredible moments that have shaped our clinic over the past 15 years. Today, we’re excited to share another excerpt from Dr. Green’s veterinary stories, reflecting on almost 20 years of caring for animals both big and small. 🐴🐄🐾
Chapter: Bright Shoes and Bad Decisions
(Or: How Neon Footwear Became My Safety Equipment)
Running shoes might not be considered the most appropriate footwear for a veterinarian who regularly works with 1,200-pound horses and 1,800-pound bulls. Yet, they remain my shoes of choice.
They are lightweight, comfortable, and most importantly, fast. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in mixed practice, it’s that speed occasionally trumps fashion, safety standards, and common sense.
A Fashion Statement in Fluorescent Foam
Clients often comment on my shoes. Some are amused. Some are concerned. Most are just confused.
“Those are some bright shoes,” they’ll say, eyeing my neon footwear as if I’ve just escaped from a 1980s aerobics video.
I usually smile and reply, “That’s so when your animal runs me into the mud, you’ll be able to find me and pull me back out. The shoes will glow long after I’m gone.”
The truth is, I own multiple pairs; each one a different shade of “retina-searing.” Safety orange. Electric blue. Highlighter yellow. If subtlety were a survival strategy, I’d have been trampled years ago.
There’s also the comfort factor. After years of standing on concrete clinic floors, climbing corrals, and sprinting away from the occasional hormonal bovine, I’ve found that nothing beats a good pair of runners. Sure, steel-toed boots offer more protection, but they also weigh roughly as much as a newborn calf and have the flexibility of a frozen fence post.
Besides, I like to think the shoes give me a fighting chance.
The Running Shoe Advantage
There’s a saying that goes, “You don’t have to outrun the bear, just the slowest person in your group.”
The same applies to cattle.
If you’re in a pen and a cow decides she’s had enough of your nonsense, you don’t need to be fast, you just need to be faster than whoever’s nearest the gate. Preferably the person holding the sorting stick.
And if, by chance, you happen to be the slowest person in the pen, well… that’s why God invented knee caps.
Not that I’d ever condone violence, of course. But I’ve seen what 1,800 pounds of irritated Angus can do to a grown man, and let’s just say I’m not above self-preservation.
Running shoes might not save my life, but they do make my last few seconds of panic considerably more comfortable.
Comedy in the Corrals
I’ve often joked that if I weren’t a veterinarian, I’d be a stand-up comedian. Then I remember that most of my best material involves blood, f***s, and near-death experiences with livestock.
It’s niche comedy.
My humour tends to surface at veterinary conferences; usually around the second beer, when the stories start flowing and the scars become punchlines. There’s something deeply bonding about a room full of vets laughing over the time someone was kicked through a fence or stitched themselves in a bathroom stall.
That’s when my timing is sharpest, my stories smoothest, and my audience most forgiving. Until that day comes when the local comedy club books “The Cow Vet Chronicles,” I’ll settle for making my clients laugh during farm calls.
It’s not stand-up, but it’s close enough; plus, the hecklers have halters.
The Practical Side of Personality
Humour, I’ve found, is as essential in veterinary medicine as antibiotics. It keeps people relaxed, diffuses tension, and reminds everyone that even when things go sideways, there’s still room for levity.
Animals don’t always cooperate, weather never does, and equipment breaks at the exact moment you need it most. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh, crack a joke, and carry on. Preferably in shoes that make you feel like you could outrun your mistakes, literally.
So yes, my footwear choices may raise eyebrows, but they also raise spirits. And if my bright orange runners can make a client smile while their horse drools sedative down their jacket, I consider that a professional win.
Vet’s Note:
In veterinary practice, practicality will save your body, but humour will save your sanity. And if all else fails, at least your bright shoes will make it easier for someone to find the body.
