Not So Petite Rodeo Princess

My job at the veterinary hospital is very versatile requiring that I wear many "hats" throughout each day.  I have to be able to switch gears from a receptionist answering the phones to a lab assistant staring at some animal's poop under a microscope to pulling on my shit kickers (aka knee high rubber boots) and jumping in when the doctors need a hand with the animals.  One particular day instead of putting on one of my well worn hats I ended earning a new one....well it wasn't a hat....more like a belt buckle.
Our first appointment that day was a goat that needed a little remodeling done on his horns.  It was a pain free procedure but due to fact that this goat was more of the size of a  pony we had to use anesthesia to prevent a rodeo.   After he was quietly sleeping on the surgery table the doctor began the procedure.  My job was to keep the anesthesia mask over the goat's muzzle, monitor his breathing and assist the doctor with any requests.  The doctor was almost finished when the goat took a deep breath, like the one you take when you've finally decided to get out of bed. But it was time for this guy to get out of bed just yet.  He was raised four feet off the ground on the surgery table with sharp instruments close at hand.  Beneath this goat's 200 pounds of uncoordinated drunken anesthetized state were the doctor and myself.    Like an ungraceful gazelle, I hurled myself onto the goat and grabbed a hold of the sides of the table and pinned him down.  The doctor worked efficiently and furiously, pausing briefly to look at me spread eagle on top of this goat and said to me "I'm glad you're not so petite".  Then without missing a beat she finished the rest of the procedure.  On his feet and wide awake with a twinkle in his eye, I think that if that goat could talk he would have asked me for my phone number.
Later, in the office, I bragged about my "great" new compliment of being "not so petite" to the gals.  They obviously weren't jealous because they were laughing so hard.  A few weeks later, I was called into the senior veterinarian's office.  (as a side note....this senior veterinarian could have easily had a very successful career as a drill sargent)  Upon entering his office he handed me a package wrapped in powder blue tissue paper.  What?  A gift from him? In tissue paper?  I took it from him cautiously and unwrapped it.  There in my hand was a homemade belt buckle, made of cardboard, edged in frilly gold ribbon, decorated in gold sequins and written in Sharpie black marker was "Not So Petite Rodeo Princess".  That was the biggest grin, to date, on that man's face I've ever seen.  I stared at it in amazement.  I was trying to picture this big John Wayne/drill sargent/veterinarian sitting at a craft table with a glue gun arranging sparkly sequins in between the ruffling golden ribbon.  I fastened it to my belt and did a little "not so petite rodeo princess"  two step around the office.  I think that this time I could sense a little jealousy.
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