Inside the Sweeney Animal Hospital in west Woodlawn, a mixed-breed puppy named Kieko shimmied around on top of a metal examination table.
“Ah, no. No thanks,” Thomas replied. But his nine-year-old son hustled off for a viewing.
Brown stopped for a moment to sip from a cup of cold decaffeinated coffee, then walked into an alcove adjoining the exam room, where he met his next patient, Butch, an aging shepherd-collie mix.
Moreover, low-income clients can have difficulty paying their bills. The practices of medical doctors who set up in the inner city are bolstered by medicare and medicaid, which enable them to serve the poor and elderly and still make a reasonable living. Not so the urban vet. “I run a private hospital here,” says Brown, “and no one is going to give me a nickel.” And no one has.
The reception desk is invariably occupied by Eddie Thomas, the office manager. Thomas, who is 40, has been working for Brown off and on since he was in grammar school. “As a kid I used to come down here and visit,” he says, “and after a while Dr. Brown asked me if I wanted to make some pocket money sweeping the floors.” Now the courtly Thomas greets the customers, fills the prescriptions, and keeps the patient files. “This winter we’re going to get a computer for the office,” he swears.
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On Friday afternoons Brown gets relief from an older vet who only wants part-time work. The rest of the time he is on duty. He often skips lunch, working straight through the day, sustained by countless cups of decaffeinated coffee that he brews in his closet-size office.
Customers bring their pets to Brown for the usual reasons. Puppies and kittens get the initial series of immunizations; aging animals receive yearly vaccinations. Brown sells leashes and four varieties of a private-label pet food. The staff will bathe big dogs, but they balk at clipping hair. Animals can be boarded for up to two weeks.
