My Take Tuesday: The Roadie, the Rattlesnake, and the Rest of Us

There are people in this world who walk the same road their whole life—and then there are folks like Dr. Kevin Fitzgerald, who build a few extra roads along the way just for the fun of the journey.

I first heard of Kevin not in a veterinary setting, but in a conversation about Animal Planet. Someone casually mentioned, “You know—the vet who used to be a bouncer for the Rolling Stones.” I laughed, assuming it was a joke. Then I looked him up. Turns out, it wasn’t. 

Dr. Kevin Fitzgerald, DVM, PhD, ABVP (and more letters than most veterinarians know what to do with) is a walking contradiction—in the best of ways. He’s been a roadie for Elvis. He’s stood guard for The Who. And after a well-timed suggestion from Keith Richards—yes, that Keith Richards—he decided to trade the backstage chaos of rock and roll for the well-controlled chaos of veterinary medicine.

That change of course launched a career that would span decades. Kevin earned his DVM from Colorado State University and has been a cornerstone at VCA Alameda East in Denver ever since. He’s board-certified in canine and feline practice. He’s penned over 50 scientific articles. He’s lectured across the globe, advocated for wildlife, and somehow also earned a PhD in endocrinology. And, of course, he brought emergency medicine to the living rooms of millions through Emergency Vets on Animal Planet.

But credentials alone don’t tell his story.

In the summer of 2006, I volunteered to help at the Veterinary Leadership Experience in beautiful Post Falls, Idaho. I assumed I’d be moving chairs or prepping name tags—just one of the background helpers keeping the event on track. Late one morning, I was told I’d been assigned a different task: drive to the Spokane airport and pick up that evening’s guest speaker. One small problem—we had the wrong flight information. He’d already been sitting at the airport for over three hours.

I was mortified. Nervous doesn’t begin to cover it. Being chewed out was nothing new to me, but I’d never bungled something this high-profile before.

When I arrived, I found the man sitting calmly near the baggage claim. I introduced myself, extended my hand, and apologized profusely for the wait. He stood, shook my hand warmly, and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “These things happen. It takes one second to be kind and two seconds to get angry. I take the shortest path.”

That man was Kevin Fitzgerald.

During the drive back, and again later as we returned him to the airport, he didn’t once mention the delay. Instead, he asked about my life—where I was from, what I liked to do, what I hoped to become after graduation. He genuinely listened. He made me feel seen. Valued.

This was a famous man. Eleven seasons on national television. A comedian with a cult following. A former head of security for the Rolling Stones and The Who. A world-renowned expert in reproductive toxicology. And yet, he treated me like I was the most interesting person in the vehicle.

I was a nobody. A peon. But Kevin made me feel important. Appreciated. Like my path mattered.

I’ve never forgotten that. What a lesson. The world needs more people like this.

What sets Kevin apart is his ability to hold space for two very different kinds of medicine: one that heals the body, and one that heals the spirit. He has a scalpel in one hand and a microphone in the other. He’s stitched wounds by day and stitched up crowds by night—using humor, storytelling, and a little mischief to remind us all that laughter belongs in the exam room too.

He’s served as a teacher, a mentor, a conservationist, and a healer. But more than any of that, he’s a model of what it means to be both brilliant and kind.

So, here’s to Kevin Fitzgerald: the roadie who became a veterinarian. The herpetologist who could handle rattlesnakes and hecklers. The man who reminded me that the shortest path is kindness—and that no matter how many letters come after your name, what really matters is how you treat the person sitting next to you in the car.

Thank you, Kev. 

And That is My Take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM