Five years ago, John Slaughter had his fingers on the pulse of the stock market.
One day last week, the one-time stockbroker's fingers were: inside the ear of a rambunctious retriever in Glen Burnie; seeking a vein on the leg of an aging beagle mix downtown; and wrapped around the giant muzzle of a Great Dane in Hampden.
For Slaughter, the path from workaholic investment counselor to house-call veterinarian was prompted by a series of defining moments -- some that came in blinding flashes, as when he shot and killed an intruder in his rowhouse in 1993, some that seeped in more slowly, as with the knowledge gained during his trips to Africa.
In 2001, he faced another round of those moments: first, the collapse of the World Trade Center, which took with it the headquarters of the investment firm he worked for, Morgan Stanley. Then, amid the surfacing of corporate scandals, came the dawning realization that his priorities needed changing, chief among them his choice of career.
"I couldn't take it anymore," said Slaughter, a vice president for Morgan Stanley when he quit. "I wanted to go back to a little more loving profession."
Three years later, Slaughter -- son of John Slaughter, the first black chancellor of the University of Maryland -- fulfilled his deferred childhood dream of becoming a veterinarian.
He's Dr. Slaughter now -- connecting with a new breed of clients, and in a far deeper, more human way.
"I was a hard-charging businessman -- quick, quick, quick ... in and out ... `Ten thousand shares of AOL? OK. No problem.' You know, a typical stockbroker," Slaughter, 48, said as he readied for a road trip this month. "Now I go in. We sit down. We have some tea. We talk about their dog. It's not all rush, rush, rush."
Slaughter, who works three days a week for the Banfield Animal Hospital in a Bowie PetSmart store, devotes the rest of his time to his private practice -- one based entirely on house calls.
His first stop on the road trip was Glen Burnie. His medical bag in hand and a 50-pound bag of prescription dog food slung over his shoulder, Slaughter was met by King, a portly retriever mix due for a semiannual wellness check.
King's owner, a widower whose medical problems keep him from driving, is just the kind of client Slaughter and an increasing number of mobile vets are looking to serve.
