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Highland vet closes clinic
BY ANNE ADAMS • STAFF WRITER
 | | Barbara and Ronald McCarty brought their dog, Sonny, to Dr. Malcolm, for once last appointment. The McCartys, of Frost, W.Va., say Malcolm is the best, and has been a dedicated vet for their animals over the years, taking time to drive to their farm for livestock. Here, Malcolm takes a look at Sonny's ears before declaring the dog in good shape. (Recorder photo by Anne Adams) |
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McDOWELL - If you've got four legs, chances are pretty good you've seen one Highland County man for your share of shots, pills, and pats on the head.
"Dr. Joe," as longtime veterinarian Dr. Joeseph Malcolm is often called, has been the primary physician here for 20 years, but this week he closes the doors on his clinic to move on.
Last Friday, a man and wife arrived about 30 minutes early for their appointment at his clinic. "Stinky," their beloved cat, and "Sonny," their purebred English shepherd, needed one last once-over in Malcolm's capable hands.
Sonny wiggled and jerked on the leash, eager to sniff the musky odor of the other animals' scents in the Stonewall Veterinary Clinic, tucked a few miles back along the Doe Hill road.
 | | Last Friday, Dr. Joe Malcolm finished up in surgery before tending to other appointments at Stonewall Veterinary Clinic. He closes the doors on his practice this week after 20 years in business. (Recorder photos by Anne Adams) |
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Ronald and Barbara McCarty had driven all the way from Frost, W.Va. to see Malcolm one last time. Malcolm is the best, they said, and well worth the drive from Pocahontas County after all these years. He'd been out to their farm many times to care for livestock. He'd been the vet for Sonny's father, too.
Ronald got Sonny settled just long enough to swallow the pill Malcolm nudged down the dog's throat. "Once the tongue comes out and licks the nose, the pill's gone down," Malcolm assured his owner, before heading to his office to gather the records.
"I've been with him a few times and watched him work," Ronald said of Malcolm. "He's about the hardest working man I know, I'll tell you that."
"I don't know what we'll do now," Barbara said, wistful about Malcolm's decision to leave his post as the only resident vet Highland County has ever had.
 | | "Ringo," so named for the dark ring marking on her tail, is a resident cat at Stonewall Veterinary Clinic in McDowell. "She doesn't like me to hold her," laughed Dr. Joe Malcolm. "We just let her do whatever she wants." Most of the clinic cats have been adopted, but some of the older ones will stick around the farm in McDowell when the business closes this week. |
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After Stinky and Sonny got their check-ups, the couple gathered their patients' records, and shook Malcolm's hand.
"It's been a real pleasure, Joe," Ronald said. "We wish you the best of luck and I hope we'll see you again some time. I can't blame you, but we're really going to miss you and we sure wish you the best."
"Thanks for everything you've done for us," Barbara added.
The decision to close his clinic didn't come easily, but after Malcolm landed a position teaching veterinary medicine at Blue Ridge Community College, he felt it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. The 46-year-old is ready for a regular schedule, and more time with his wife, Koressa, and two children, Roy, 18, and Rachel, 14.
 | | "Dr. Joe," as he's often called, will be taking up a new post teaching veterinary courses at Blue Ridge Community College in January. (Recorder photo by Anne Adams) |
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"I had an idea I wanted to do this from the time I was very young," Malcolm recalled about his early start on this career.
Just then, another man dropped by unexpectedly with his older dog, now pregnant. Malcolm walked with him to the parking lot to look her over, assuring the owner she'd be OK despite her advanced maternal age.
Having grown up in Highland, Malcolm is intimately familiar with most of the animals and their owners in the county and surrounding area. He's not only served to keep animals healthy, but he's also passed on a lot of knowledge to residents here, many of whom have learned more about caring for their four-legged charges than ever before.
Malcolm grew up raising livestock on his family farm near the clinic. After he graduated Highland High School in 1979, he went to Virginia Tech, where he had secured a B.S. in biology by 1983. He applied to vet school while he was in college, but didn't get accepted right away. The requirements were tough, and the competition tougher. Only 50 students of 350 applying had been accepted into his class at Virginia Maryland Regional College of Veterinary Medicine.
But he made the grade, and graduated with his DVM degree in 1987. Unlike most of his classmates, Malcolm already had his future at home in Highland mapped out. "I knew I wanted to come back," he said.
He had worked hard in high school and college during his off time to raise livestock at home; he saved every penny he made and invested it wisely. By the time he had his license, Malcolm was debt-free. He began construction on his clinic building a month before he graduated, and with the help of his grandfather, he was ready for business the minute he returned to Highland.
This county had never had its own veterinarian before, but business was nevertheless slow-going at first. Farmers here weren't used to needing a doctor for their livestock, and smaller animals, in general, simply didn't get much medical attention.
"If you had a dog, you might have taken it to the health department every three years for a rabies shot," said Malcolm. "But that was the extent of what dogs got. And you just didn't do anything for cats. People didn't much take animals to the vet unless they went to Staunton or Warm Springs."
Malcolm eventually established himself, though. "The farmers were more excited than pet owners," he recalled of the time. Before long, he had plenty of clients who became dependent on his care. In the beginning, Malcolm says, about two-thirds of those were large animals, and one-third were small pets. Now, those numbers are reversed and the majority of those he sees are smaller.
Malcolm has a "mixed" practice, meaning he treats both large and small animals. "Mixed animal practice is slowly dying out," he noted, as vets are increasingly specializing.
In fact, according to the American Veterinary Medical Association, out of slightly more than 56,000 U.S. veterinarians in private practice, only 4,376 have a mixed practice, about 7.8 percent. By comparison, those who focus strictly on companion animals (small pets) make up 37,137 U.S. private vets, or 66 percent.
The mix makes Malcolm special in the eyes of his rural clients. When it comes to cattle, sheep and horses, he remains aware those animals represent a financial investment for their owners, and need good health care. "I really have to consider the economics involved when I'm treating them," he said.
Simultaneously, he must be compassionate when it comes to pets. "I understand there is a real emotional involvement for them," he said, "and I understand what it means not to be able to afford all the care some want to give (their pets). What surprises me is that there's such a vast difference from one person to the next. There's such a gulf there. Some want to do absolutely everything, others will say their pet is too old and decide not to do anything."
But those who have relied on Malcolm all these years appreciate the depth of that compassion, not just for pets, but for their owners. Many note Malcolm's quiet, calm disposition, and his penchant for few words in the human social sense.
He's just better with animals than people, they say.
"I suppose that's true," Malcolm laughs.
There are countless stories about Malcolm's dedication - braving horrible, dangerous weather to help birth a calf, making a late-night house call for a sick cat, or canceling personal plans to tend to a new litter of puppies or foal born in the wee hours of the morning.
There are a few exotic creatures he has seen, though for the most part he made referrals for those who own reptiles or birds, since they require more specialized medical care. But he has tended animals like llamas, a few of which reside on local sheep farms to keep predators at bay, and he used to have several ostriches and emu, though he says most of those have moved on. He also had one client in Pocahontas County, W.Va., with tigers, and Central and South American creatures.
Is Malcolm a dog person or a cat person? Neither, he says, claiming no particular favorite animal. "I like the variety," he says.
It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with the changes in his industry, he says, and he considers himself more of a general practitioner. "It's hard to keep up with all of the different animals these days," he said. "I'm not a specialist. I'm just a country doctor."
You'd think caring for animals day and night would give Malcolm his fill of critters. But over the years, he and his family have adopted a great many of them at home on the farm - cats in particular. "I used to be embarrassed when the kids would tell people we had 17 cats," he laughed. But they still have about that many, plus a dog, two horses, and a turtle. That's in addition to the 35 beef cattle and 50 sheep on the farm. "That's part of why I'm changing jobs, too," Malcolm said. "I've had no time to care for the farm like I need to."
Malcolm is more than a little worn down by the 70-80 hours a week. He gets up about 5 a.m. to check his own farm, and tries to get to the clinic by 8 a.m. to see how his "hospital patients" have fared through the night. Typically, he's seeing clients by appointment from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. and he's on the road making house calls for larger animals the rest of the day.
Almost always, the afternoons run well past 5 p.m. If he's lucky, he'll make it home for a quick supper with his family before heading out again.
That doesn't count the number of times a week, and on weekends, someone calls with an emergency.
"The rest of a day lasts as long as it takes to get to everyone," he shrugged. "Large animal emergencies are usually seasonal, winter and spring, with birthing problems and the baby animals. With the small animal population, it's rare I don't have a call at night."
And during bear hunting season, Malcolm can always count on dog owners to start calling. "Their hunting dogs get a lot of bear bites, and a lot of them don't survive," he notes.
Last Friday, there was no hiding the fatigue on Malcolm's boyish face as he came out of the operating room. His sky-blue eyes, ruddy cheeks, and strawberry blonde hair reflect his youthful years, but he'd been up a good portion of the night doing surgery and catching up on paperwork.
To handle the stress, Malcolm and his family always tried to take some weekends off and longer vacations in the summer. "I can't stay at home though," he said. "If I don't answer the phone, they'll call my parents, or just come to the house. So we have to leave town (for a break)."
Fifteen minutes later, a young man arrived carrying a chubby cat with scabs on its back. Malcolm looked it over the feline and knew immediately it was a kind of allergy. He handed the owner a longacting antibiotic. "That should take care of it," he told him.
After two more phone calls, he looked up again.
"I didn't anticipate there would be so much emergency work when I started," he said. "This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. It's an awful lot of work. I've never minded people calling me anytime with a real emergency, but many times they're not."
Clients call him with a variety of questions or concerns that could have waited until morning, part of the job Malcolm says he won't miss. "And if they get Koressa, they can get hateful and ugly with her sometimes if I'm not there. People didn't used to be so rude."
It's been rough to handle, but Malcolm has always kept himself in check and tried to be supportive. "In the last few weeks I've gotten so many nice cards, and people stopping by to say how much they've appreciated me being here. That's been nice to hear, especially after you've been treated sort of like a public servant for so long. Overall I'm glad I did it, and I wish I could do it longer."
Having time for himself and his family is something he looks forward to. "The hardest part is never knowing where you'll be one minute to the next, never being able to plan anything. I start the day with plans, but the schedule always falls apart. Or I make weekend plans and they get blown." It was hard to handle, especially when his kids were younger. "I've just always tried to do it all, and ultimately, I realized I can't do it all ... So I'm looking forward to a new challenge, one where I'm still in this profession and I get to share what I know."
Starting the first week of Janu- ary, Malcolm will teach three classes in Blue Ridge Community College's technical program - animal science, lab techniques, and clinical techniques like surgical assisting. He said he started looking for a change a couple of years ago but until last June, there's was nothing in sight related to his field that seemed a good fit. Then his wife, who serves on BRCC's board, learned about a veterinarian tech job opening, one that required someone with large animal experience. Malcolm was intrigued. "The salary, benefits, and time involved were attractive," he said. And he knows how to teach. "I've had a lot of students through (the clinic) over the years, and I've done a lot of public speaking on mixed animal practice over the years, so I can do this," he said. "Plus, I'll get summers off to work on my farm, sleep, eat, take vacations. Catch up on a lot of things I've let go."
As much as he loves his work, Malcolm said he's gotten to the end of his rope on several levels. If he could do anything differently, he wishes he'd had more business acumen under his belt before he started. As he closes the clinic this week, there are thousands of dollars on the books he'll never collect.
"It was very, very difficult," he said of the decision. "Leaving feels like a personal failure, but I've never been profitable, and here I am 20 years later it's still a struggle. I'm not a good businessman. I don't charge as much (as some other private vets), but one of my missions has been to get more animals helped by keeping prices low. It's hard; there's a difference between what I can give and what people can pay. I have no retirement saved. I'm an S-corporation, but there are a lot of months there's no money to pay my own salary. I didn't used to have as much trouble until recently, but now I've got more clients from out of the area I don't know."
Malcolm says he's never been strict about checking credit history on his clients, and finds himself struggling as a result. "There are thousands and thousands of dollars I'll never see," he said. "We just didn't bother with any of that."
Malcolm says he would have spent time getting experience elsewhere before starting up directly out of school. "Really, to get more business experience," he said. It's disappointing, he added, that in order for vets, like other medical providers, to be successful, they almost have to be cold-hearted, and not spend much time with their clients, or charge higher prices. "The caring part seems to be really incompatible with financial success," he said.
Over the years he's had occasional complaints from clients, but contrary to recent rumors, he's never been sued. "The complaints seem like they've gotten more frequent," he said. "The worst was a lady who wanted to sue me. She wanted to see the cats I had in here, and then one mother cat didn't like her dog and it bit her."
Another made a false claim to the state board of medicine, he said, alleging Malcolm threw a syringe at her. "It was totally made up but she got really mad at me and caused me a lot of trouble," he said.
The work is physically demanding and messy, too, which he doesn't mind (he does his own laundry, by the way), but it's also got its dangers, including being bitten on a regular basis. "I've come so close to getting really, really hurt," he said.
Just in the last couple of months he's been kicked and thrown. One horse reared up, kicked him in the face, and then came down on his ankle. Malcolm headed for the emergency room and came away with a fracture. "I got lucky, but it hurt like crap," he said.
In another incident he was kicked in the stomach and thrown through the air. "One of these days they're going to kill me," he chuckled. "I guess I just don't move as fast as I used to.
What's next?
Malcolm has advertised for someone to take over the Stonewall clinic and lease his practice in McDowell. Ideally, he envisions being able to take up the slack for such a vet in order to give that doctor the kind of regular relief from the hours he never had. "I've advertised it as the true James Herriot experience," he said, referring to the famous rural veterinarian, British author of "All Creatures Great and Small."
He plans to keep his license up, and maintain his membership in the American Veterinary Medical Association.
In his two-decade stint, Malcolm says he's most proud of his involvement in the Highand SPCA chapter, which he helped to start, and educating people about animals and their health care. For the first two years, the SPCA was housed in Malcolm's clinic, which he calls a "vast mistake," for the time involved, but "I'm proud of being part of it, and serving on the board. I plan to stay involved in all the SPCA chapters," he said.
Malcolm plays a similar role in the chapters in Bath, Pocahontas, Pendleton and Grant counties.
He volunteers his services to spay and neuter animals.
Malcolm has almost single-handedly helped reduce the incidences of feline leukemia in the area, a disease fatal to cats. "When I first started I would see about 10 cases a week," he said. "Now it's unusual to see more than 10 a year. So I know I've made a real difference there, and also with the farm animal business. Farmers are doing a much better job of preventing problems now," he said.
"One of the biggest roles I think a vet tech should play is educating people, spending time with clients. That extra five minutes to explain things, which a lot of vets can't do."
He still has cold feet about the decision to close. "I'm going to miss visiting with people most," he said. "I really like talking to people and their animals and I enjoy most people, although there are certain ones I won't miss. But I do feel like I've accomplished something. I would have liked to make it longer and I talk myself out of (leaving) every day. I'm very concerned for these folks and it troubles me to just leave them, but there are not going to be a lot of other opportunities for me. I had to sieze it when it was there, even though I'm sorry it will put hardships on people.
"I owe it to my family," he added. "They've put up with a lot with me over the years. A lot of people think Koressa is pushing me into this against my will, but it was my decision. I've been back and forth dozens of times, but ..." he trails off. "I guess people's expectations are higher now, and it's just not possible for one person do keep up anymore."
Friday will be Malcolm's last day. Most of the clinic's resident cats have been adopted; a couple of them will stay. Malcolm will continue to refer his patients and their owners to a list of nearby vets as needed. He's sure to continue to get calls at home from those reluctant to find someone else. But Malcolm will tell those folks, "Sorry, I don't do that anymore."
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