A half century ago, playwright Arthur Miller wrote that attention must be paid to a good man’s working life. He wrote those words in a time when people’s good work was valued and rewarded with security, consideration and appreciation. Proud men and women retired from years of meaningful work they were often rewarded with a pension and a watch or a party. My uncle wore his watch proudly until he died and would never buy a car from anyone else than his employer. There was a sense of gratitude, of a contract fulfilled. That seems like a long time ago. Work is different now, corporations have turned into something else, people work for health care, live in fear of being tossed into the street, and Tom Wolski is no Willy Loman. And he is very much ready to move on.
Today was his last day as a vet here, as our vet, and he retired this afternoon after 30 years of running a practice in which he earned the love and appreciation and devotion of a community of rural and small-town dog and animal lovers. And became my good and valued friend, someone I often talk to about animals and their training and care.
Tom wanted no party, no celebration, no recognition, he does not talk about himself, but I realized today was his last day and I grabbed my camera and ran over there. I had planned to take him to lunch tomorrow but had to cancel. For those of us who experience the special bond that exists with a good vet and a good human being and who value integrity and service and respect forr animals, it was an occasion to mark. I thought Tom would throw me out when I walked in, but I blurted out that I had Lyme Disease and to my surprise, he co-operated. He likes to call himself a curmudgeon, he is not.
I could not begin to recount the love and appreciation people in this part of the world have for him. To me, he is absolutely everything a good vet should be and decent and giving human being. When he graduated from Cornell he deliberately chose a small-town practice where he could be close to the people and their pets and avoid the high fees and sometimes unnecessary treatments vets in cities and suburbs are required to charge and propose. He knew most of the people here are poor and veterinary care was hard to manage and he was always conscious of cost. He is also an advocate for respecting the true nature of animals and not turning them into objects of human emotional need. He had a professional but direct style. I’d say blunt. He told the truth, a farmer told me. He never let me go astray, he said, when my dog had cancer Tom told me what it could cost to keep him alive for a few months and he saved me from debt and the dog from suffering.
One neighbor told me that he told Tom his out-of-control dog was probably abused. Not likely, Tom replied, he just has never been trained.
There are countless stories of Tom looking the other way when people couldn’t pay, coming out to farms and homes in the middle of the night to put dogs and cats down so they could die at home. He put one man’s dog down in the back seat of the car the dog loved to ride in. He would answer calls in the middle of the night, come into the practice Sunday to pull porcupine quills out of a foolish Lab. Tom resisted corporate intrusions into veterinary care, is uncomfortable with the epidemic medicating of dogs and the entry of big pharmaceutical corporations into veterinary medicine. He and I have the same values and notions about dog training, and about the need to listen to dogs and live their life. His staff loves and admires him, he is the kind of employer many people used to have.
Beyond his veterinary work, he is a remarkable human being, a kind and compassionate man, a creative one and one of those people whose word is solid gold. He loves the outdoors and is a first-rate nature photographer. He rarely shows his work.I don’t know a lot of people like that.
Aging is a bittersweet thing, it ends things and opens doors. Tom is not maudlin or regretful about moving on. He is not retiring, he is moving on to the next chapter, traveling, working with a local musical chorale, continuing his work on the local board of education. He is a ferociously competitive athlete who skis, rows, snowshoes. He has experienced deep personal tragedy and moved forward with even more empathy and grace.
I knew Tom would not pay attention to this day, and most people don’t know this is his last day. I felt honored that I could pay attention, nothing but a privilege. He and I will have lunch in a couple of weeks when he gets back from the first of many trips.
