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Superstition January 27, 2012 By Beau Whitaker, DVM

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I don’t consider myself a superstitious person. It has always seemed silly to believe in such things. As the Stevie Wonder song lyrics go, When you believe in things you don’t understand Then you suffer Superstition ain’t the way, no, no, no. 

That’s right, Stevie.  Superstition ain’t the way. No. No.  Maybe? I have to admit, I have started to allow some twinge of belief in things I don’t understand. The list of things I don’t understand is  pretty darn vast. What I am referring to are things of the superstitious variety. I am not talking about a belief in bad luck from walking under a ladder. What we are dealing with here is something much more real and sinister. 

My flirtation with superstition mostly deals with the power of suggestion. I have learned through trial and error there are certain things you just don’t say. For example, never ever say, “You know, I haven’t been kicked in a long time” or “We have not had to do a fetotomy this year.”  It is also a good idea not to discuss how smoothly a day is going or how well a horse is behaving for a given procedure. I know it seems completely ridiculous but as soon as you speak of these things there seems to be unintended consequences. 

For the sake of this discussion, let’s refer to after-hour emergencies as “Night Club.”  It is not exactly a club you want to be in, but if you’re going to join you have to know the rules. Actually there is only one rule. The one rule of Night Club is you don’t talk about Night Club. If you break the one rule of Night Club you will have to go to Night Club. I am on call as I am writing this, so I hope the rule only applies to the spoken word and not the written. Crap. The phone is ringing.

(Two hours later) The number two rule of Night Club is you don’t write about Night Club. These rules are still a little fluid. Speaking of such I have one more Night Club superstition. It is more like a strong suggestion than a rule, but it may soon become Night Club Rule #3. When arriving home after a day of work, don't change your clothes. This is still a theory but it seems if you put on the comfy cotton tee and gym shorts you will soon be changing back into your dirty jeans and work boots. Unless I am completely covered in blood and manure and it would be a biohazard for me to come in contact with my kids, I don't change clothes until I am going to bed. I am currently testing out the theory as I sit here writing this in sweat pants and a tee shirt. These rules and suggestions may seem ridiculous, but don’t test them. I know it seems superstitious, but I don’t make the rules. I’m just resigned to believe in something I don’t understand. Crap. The phone is ringing again.

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