Looking out my Backdoor: To Tapir or not to Tapir

Michelle called. “I need to take Blue to the vet in Tala tomorrow. Ana can’t come with me because she is overseeing the work crew building our new guest house. Would you be able to come along with me?”

“What time do we leave?”

Michelle picked me up. Blue, tucked in his kitty carrier, never made a peep the whole trip. Michelle and I filled the air with words covering multiple spectrums.

Background: Blue is an elderly cat, not in the best of health. Michelle feared this might be his last trip, yet, there were signs he wanted to live.

More background: Tala is an old factory town. The sugar cane processing plant pumps white steam into the air from October through May.Somewhere off the highway there is a Coca-Cola plant. In town, and it all seems to be “Old Town,” the streets are narrow, not laid out for modern vehicles.

Even more background: This veterinary practice specializes in small animals, mostly dogs, but will see cats too. Michelle said one time when they came, the vet was treating a horse, in the courtyard, I’m sure. The man who started the clinic had three sons, all of whom went to veterinary school and joined the thriving practice. Vets in Etzatlan mainly see to the health of cattle and horses, farm animals.

We had no more than settled down to wait our turn, when, trailed by two large dogs, in walked a man, cuddling a scruffy, long-snouted creature in his arms. Our eyes grew large as dinner plates.

“Is that a tapir?” “I think so.”

The man must have had an appointment because he was shuttled directly into a room. Michelle and I tip-toed to the open doorway, trying to get a peek. The man stood with broad back blocking our view. Reluctantly, we backed off before we became rude and intrusive. Wow, a tapir!

We left Blue in the capable hands of the vet hospital persons. His problems are being treated.

My grandson, Tyler, is a rescuer of animals and has his own rather exotic collection with their various care requirements. Tyler is set on his own pathway to become a vet. I must tell him about the tapir.

Yes, wow, a tapir! This man held the animal close in his arms, his hands comforting it. The animal was not struggling to escape, though it was moving about. So, how do you get one? I’ve never seen a tapir at Pet’s R Us. But, then, I’ve never looked.

How do you care for a tapir? This one responds to petting. Would it enjoy being brushed? Do you keep it in the house? What does it eat? I’ve never seen bags of Tapir Food at Tractor Supply or the pet supply aisle of IGA. Then, again, I’ve never looked. My Lola would never agree to such an adoption. Share her doghouse? Never, no way.

This particular tapir, if tapir it is indeed, must be a toddler.I had to look them up. These animals get quite large, are similar to wild pigs. Some varieties are bigger than others. This looked like a Mexican tapir.

On a whim, I looked up anteaters. No, I think it was a tapir. I can imagine a tapir as a pet. Not so much, the anteater. Although, feeding an anteater would be no problem. “Here you go sweet pea, a large yard. Have at it.”

I do wonder how one comes to be cuddling a tapir.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state.She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight.After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico.Once a Montanan, always.Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/.Email [email protected].