My TV is eight years old, but it’s been reliable through staying at home in a quiet house on a quiet block while working every day. Recently I had the warranty folks come by and look at it because it had an issue, and they replaced the motherboard. This means I’ll have the TV for another few years at least. By the time I replace it, two hundred models will have become obsolete.
Lately, however, I’ve only watched a half dozen networks out of the hundreds on my cable. Sure I get the standard channels, but somehow they have even managed to resume sports broadcasting on at least ten of them. Sorry, I don’t watch college football, and by avoiding pro sports I hope to give our home teams a shot at winning a few games (or at least they might lose by fewer points).
Some networks just don’t suit me. I wouldn’t watch true crime, and I can’t process spreadsheets and learn to cook at the same time (my Food Network viewing is nights only). Hallmark has a few networks, but I can’t do an emotional workout and type at the same time.
In the afternoons, once the music networks become a bit much, I try to tune in animal shows, so then my favorite networks are Animal Planet and Nat Geo Wild. The wildlife and vet shows don’t command my attention while I’m working. In the afternoons I listen, more than watch, The Incredible Dr. Pol, and the show’s narrator, Ari Rubin, manages to make the programs seem like I’m listening to radio. Of course it’s unlikely that anybody could obtain a veterinarian’s license just by watching multiple seasons of a vet show, but in these past several months of isolation I have seen Dr. Jan Pol do some amazing things with animals of all kinds, and on occasion I find I can accurately “diagnose” the problem.
Naturally the layout of the show is such that a regular viewer would likely predict a type of case within a minute or two anyway, but it’s interesting to play an occasional round of “Guess the Ailment.” Cows in particular are a fun challenge. Apparently their anatomy can do strange things like one of their stomachs twisting itself over, necessitating a procedure called a “flip and stitch.” It is what it sounds like: the vet and a few strong hands lay the cow down, turn them over to un-kink the stomach, then put a needle through the hide into the stomach so it’s anchored to the skin and won’t overturn a second time.
And don’t get me started on prolapses or using a weird device to ratchet a calf out of a mother cow having labor issues, not to mention pet emergencies in the aftermath of fights or tangles with porcupines, and occasional abscesses. My after-work evening fare has included Dr. Pimple Popper on TLC, so if a horse has a lump filled with pus, it’s just like Dr. Sandra Lee working on a human with a skin disorder. Bring on the gross footage! I’ve got a few hours until dinner.
Some people may wonder why these shows are so popular. Probably due to the aspects of life we don’t get to see. Sure it’s edited and carefully packaged for television viewers, but we don’t have what our grandparents had: documentary short films in the cinema such as “The March of Time,” or looks into everyday suburban life imparting life lessons. That was then: now we have vets on camera.
I’ve also listened in on Game Show Network, enjoyed the narration of Mike Rowe as he performs another Dirty Job and tried to not raise my blood pressure with the news. The sounds coming from my television help mark the hours and half hours, and I learn things while getting my work done.
I’m glad my reliable old TV will teach me about pets and livestock. Not that I’m planning to put on a glove and explore the inside of a cow after dinner.
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