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Great Great Grandfather
Dr. Charlie Merritt D.V.M.
Specialization Equine
He was born in a time there was no cars, planes, or electricity.
A time when his world as well very family was torn apart by war, and depression. Wars which put cousins against cousins,
nephews against uncles, sons against fathers, and brothers against brothers for the equal rights of all, while taking
apart each family, and never addressing the rights of our American Indians. Charlie Merritt was the son
of a civil war officer, who was cut short early in his life due to the war. Thus his childhood and adolescent years
were spent helping his widowed mother were they worked and lived at Fort Browder, Barbour, Alabama from the years 1831-1880,
after fleeing there for safty from thier home in Georgia. His father's family had settled in Georgia from Wales,
and his mother's family was from North Carolyna.
Of neccessity to survive the times of his birth, and lifetime, he
was trained in the school of life, his crafts refined, and perfected from the burning love he could not extinguish
in his heart or soul for the horse. He loved all animals of course it is told, but that most majstic of animals which charged
across the open plans, mountians, glen, or forest. Wild, agile sure footed, free as the wind, and proud as any Indian
brave, had captured all his being, as much as humankind so wished to capture all asspects of the horse. So wild,
and free a beast, so versatile of ablities, with no need for humans, yet one which could form bonds of trust allowing them
to be it's complete master to will it to work, with bonds lasting thier liftime. A creature loyal to death's doors for
thier masters needs, in famine, illnesses or war. Horses giving up thier own life so many a owner would live on. Many
horses died in mankinds never ending need to push West in the early 1900s and back beyond that period. The numbers and
ways they died is more then the mind can see, imagine, or handle. He spent his life trying to reverse as many of
those aweful numbers lost of over work, illness, and abuse that he could. He was one of the best it's been told from
one generation to the next. Not a problem he couldn't fix in any horse, from illness, broken bones, to shattered spirit,
heart or soul. He was said to be one of the great quiet equine masters, with a touch, a look, and voice as gentle as the softest
rose petal floating on a warm spring breeze as he worked intently repairing what had been undone. He knew his patients
well, their owner's he was known to have trouble understanding, and those that loved him, had trouble understanding his obsession
with the horse. As the years wore on his own abused body, he indulged more in drinking on his long trips back home. To ease
the arthritis which took over his aging body. Sometimes he would drift off into long over due sleep as his faithful
gray mare Lew brought him home safe, she always knowing the way no matter how far, dark, cold, or wet a night. Taking a firm
stand for the patient's rights who he just traveled many dusty miles to cure by Dr. Buggy was not always what many animal
abusers of the day wished to hear about. Farmers, or owners didn't wish to be lectured on the benifits of resting, and
ways of better care, or treatment of thier work horses, and mules. Traveling, or getting harvest in for food, and
supplies, as well $ to pay the Vet., or Dr. when the valued work horse was suddenly down was more on thier mind. Arguements
have been known to have ensued treatment when abuse was noted as a cause for him being called to his patient. Some may have
not liked what he said, but, when no one else could help, or would come, or was to far, they sent for him, and he was always
there.
It is of little wonder considering the dirness of the times he grew
up in, and issues in his life to deal with, that he formed such a long lasting kinship with the horses of the fort in
his care in his early years. Being fatherless early on, and with a widowed mother to help care for, the horses would
soon be the trusted listeners to many a boyhood dream, or fear. He no doubt was witness to all of the fort's going
on and happenings, including care, training, and medical treatment of the horses needed to maintian a fort of that need, and
type. The education was full and rounded gained from there which he took with him, and added more knowledge to through
his life path. As people's word or actions, cities, and things in
my great great grandfather's life failed around him, more and more he found yet even more comfort in the horse, and less
in anything, or anyone else. The bond remained firm intact until he passed. After learning his craft, he went on to Hartford,
Alabama were he opened up his own practice in veterinary medicine, practicularly specializing in the horse. He was known to go out of his way for any animal in need, but his craft was perfected in horses.
Known to travel days for a single patient, often with no more then a meal and sleep, or side of meat, a fat hen, or dozen
eggs, grain or ham for pay of services. Other times still due to the hardness of the day, his patients were always treated,
and healed, but he was often left unpaid. This created great strain as well shortages on his own family, home,
health, and farm life away from the office in town. He continued to practice at what he was best at until he died, determained
to reach any injured or sick horse he could. In the height of his carreer, he was known as the one to call when no one
else would, or could come, no matter how far away, or late of night, also the one to succeed in treatment, when everything,
or everyone else had failed. He became further with-drawn from humans when after treating a near dead horse, whose
injury was the result of the owner's own wicked hands, my great great grandfather informed the owner in no uncertian
terms of how poor he thought of the owner. He was known for his honesty in speaking his mind, his ablity with knowledge,
and his firm stand against animal abuse. A fight broke out, and the owner picked up a near by singletree, slaming it
into the side of my grandfather's head with such a force to rupture both his ear drums, leaving him near deaf the
remainder of his life after the months of recovery. However, the animal was saved, and he felt further victorious in
he stood his ground for the horse who had no voice, no matter the cost to his own health. It was always said, no matter how
he viewed or felt of a owner, he had to go, or would go, day or night, for it was the patient's call he must always answer.
After all it was his creed of oath to the horse he had made in his
heart, and through out his life to this creed of oath he forever remained true.
Kimberley Wynne Elmore
copyright 2005
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