MONDAY evening was coming to a gentle close as I headed home to a welcoming dinner. And then the phone rang. It was the office, passing on a fresh call that came in just before they closed for the day. “A yearling with colic, and apparently it’s fairly bad,” was the message.

They always are, those evening calls. It’s usually a horse owner whose work keeps them away from home all day and the poor horses are not seen until late in the evening.