Art vs. Vet

My painting instructor, Vicki, is a few years older than me, and one of these tough-as-nails-yet-tender-as-roses types. She is working on her master's, and among those on her graduate committee are my professor, D.W., with whom she worked for a year, and M. H., a lifelong friend who collects art and happens also to be a professor in the Vet School.

Last week Vicki was on her way downstairs heading for a meeting at the Pao School of Art, which is a new, modern affair with a big, airy three-story staircase on either end. She tripped on the last few steps and fell, breaking her foot. She wasn't at class the next day, having gone in for x-rays after a night of pain. After class I went back to the Vet School and reported the incident to DW, who happened just at that time to be talking with MH. Neither man had heard about it. With a wicked grin on his face, MH only said laconically, "Did she trip down those stairs, or was she thrown?"

Being the tattletail I am, I told Vicki this today before class walking alongside her as she hobbled with a heavily bandaged foot and a walker. She got a grim, determined look on her face and looked down at the floor at her foot. "Well, now, I wasn't the one who got fingers bit off because I stuck my hand in a horse's mouth", she retorted.

When I returned to the office, DW confirmed that MH indeed was missing part of one of his fingers from that very incident.

Mercy, but I am going to miss these people!