Dr. Holly Reed and Me on My Last Day at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium – November 2001
Dr. Holly Reed was my best friend for almost three decades as well as my co-worker at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium. Dr. Holly and I met in the fall of 1980 when I started veterinary school at the University of California, Davis. Dr. Holly knew she wanted to be a veterinarian, but two consecutive applications had been rejected. Not one to give up, Dr. Holly found a different route toward admission and was working on a master’s in veterinary microbiology when I began veterinary school.
Meeting through a mutual friend, Dr. Holly was my movie partner every Tuesday night, and lunch partner at least every other week.
Dr. Holly’s third application to veterinary school was accepted, and in the fall of 1982, she began her veterinary studies. She, also, took my place as a student worker in the California Primate Research Center’s Primate Medicine Department when I completed my two years of part-time work in that department.
Dr. Holly and I remained close over the next fourteen years. Sometimes she worked at a chimpanzee sanctuary in Phoenix, Arizona. Sometimes she worked with Australian wildlife in an Australian rehabilitation facility. Sometimes she worked as a veterinarian in a 10,000-acre wildlife reserve in Ohio. Through it all, we talked, consulted on cases, and shared the ups and downs of life. We shared rooms at veterinary conferences, often letting poor students sleep on the floor of our room. We were close.
We were the first two full-time veterinarians ever hired at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium beginning in the fall of 1995. It was a privilege to start a veterinary program with my closest friend. We were so close, so comfortable with each other, and had so much trust in each other that student externs often mistook us for a married couple.
Unfortunately, my ambition took me to a different job opportunity in Redding, California. Saying goodbye to Dr. Holly at the end of my last day in November 2001 was one of the most tearful experiences of my life and one of my biggest mistakes. I was fortunate to continue to provide marine mammal consulting services to the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium for the next five years and was able to work part-time with Dr. Holly during those years.
Dr. Holly had nearly died in the early 1990s from breast cancer. In the Fall of 2011, I had just returned from Camp Al Saliyah in Qarar in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I hadn’t heard from Dr. Holly for a few weeks in 2011. A small voice in the back of my head reminded me that Dr. Holly and I usually didn’t call each other when we had a serious problem. In other words, when we needed the support the most, we didn’t ask for it because we didn’t want to burden each other.
My wife, Sally, and I were on our way to the Fresno Zoo, and I took a moment to call Dr. Holly. Her voice was raspy. She apologized, saying she was sorry her voice was raspy which was due to her continuous oxygen therapy. Her cancer had returned with a vengeance. I asked nothing else and told her that we would be up in a few days. Sally and I traveled to Washington and helped Dr. Holly around the house for a few days. She was unable to do very much, restricted to oxygen therapy in a chair. Two weeks later, I returned to help her and to say goodbye. I knew only a handful of days remained. When I hugged her, looked into her eyes, and said goodbye, we knew we would never see each other in this world. Dr. Holly passed away four days later.
There were many interesting aspects to our friendship. We had more trust in each other than we did anyone else. We never were irritated with each other because we always knew that whatever each of us said or did the other’s best interests were at the forefront. Dr. Holly never used profanity and did not drink alcohol, although I do both, sometimes, using profanity very creatively.
I can be very provocative, but only provoked Dr. Holly once when we were tube-feeding a very sick wallaby. Tube feeding a very debilitated wallaby is challenging and this wallaby was so sick I advocated humanely euthanizing him to end his suffering. He wasn’t going to get well. Dr. Holly never gave up. She never lost hope. I, on the other hand, don’t want any animal to suffer.
I held the wallaby as Dr. Holly prepared to place his feeding tube. He was so weak that he did not cough when the feeding tube entered his lung. The gruel entered his long, his head slumped to the side, and he was gone.
Sometimes the filter between my very clever mind and my mouth is not operational. That was the case here. I said, “That could have gone better.” Dr. Holly merely said, “Crap!” That was as angry as she got and the only time I heard her use anything close to profanity.
Dr. Holly was the kindest soul I have known. She always thought of others before herself. She never said a negative thing about anyone or anything. Frankly, I still don’t understand that, although she proved it possible.
This photograph was taken on my last full-time day at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium. We had just performed voluntary venipuncture on our two male belugas, Beethoven and Turner, to monitor their health. We were on our way to a going away party for me. Although not a fan of my own going away parties, preferring to slither away unnoticed, like a reptile, this was closure for Dr. Holly and my animal caretakers who didn’t want me to leave. Dr. Holly had arranged the leis and because she was so important to me I actually cooperated.
Some of you may have seen the first “Terminator” movie in which Linda Hamilton has stopped to refuel her Jeep as she flees Los Angeles on her way to becoming a competent, fierce warrior. A young man at the gasoline station takes a polaroid photograph of Linda. In subsequent “Terminator’ movies, John Connor, her son, who never knew his mother, frequently takes the very worn photograph from his pocket, gazing at it for inspiration.
This, the last photograph of me and Dr. Holly is much the same; very full of emotion. It is one of my favorite photographs. It reminds me of how fortunate I was to work with my closest friend for over a decade, and how much joy we had together. I wish everyone could have that opportunity. Dr. Holly, you were the best.