Page 66 - 05_June-2025

Lost Ones
OF BONES
AND BEASTS
N. Daniel Martin,
April 16, 1945 – March 29, 2025
by RICHARD KELLY KEMICK
CHIROPRACTORS SEEM SUBJECT to a derision
usually reserved for those who practice politics or
multi-level marketing. The mind, then, buckles at imag-
ining what N. Daniel Martin had to endure in his lengthy
professional life. Consider the hackneyed witticisms of
every cocktail party and class reunion, the wisecracks
(pun not intended) of every bring-your-parent-to-school
day, the smirk at the passport office as the clerk reads
aloud the “Occupation” section of his application.
Because Martin was not only a chiropractor; he was an
animal chiropractor.
Any future biography of “Dr. Dan” shall surely begin
with the line: “He started off as a human chiropractor.”
The career change happened in the early ’90s. Dr. Dan
bought into a racehorse only to note, just before the
warmup and race, that the filly needed an adjustment.
“I could do that,” he thought, and the future was set in
motion, swift and sure-footed.
In the 1990s, Dr. Dan ran afoul of the colleges of
both veterinary and chiropractic medicine, as the two
institutions perceived him as an encroachment on their
turf. But Dr. Dan persevered, undeterred by untrodden
land. In time, he would help certify others in this
profession that demanded both a torquing strength and
pinpoint precision, the equanimity of knowing that
something that can hurt you won’t.
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He worked on dogs, cats, horses (both
miniature and regular sized), cows,
donkeys, alpacas, goats, pigeons and a
bearded dragon. “Anything with a spine,”
he would say, since all endoskeletons
operate on the same basic premise; and
isn’t there something divine in knowing
that we — on a structural level — are
interchangeable with a thoroughbred or
a hedgehog, koala or caribou?
He did not have a website, did not
advertise. He did not tape posters to
telephone poles. But the whispers of the
paddocks and dog parks are hard to
silence, and one imagines the front of
Dr. Dan’s office on 126th Avenue to be
like the ramp up Noah’s Ark before it
pushed off.
Grief is conveyed through cliché; their
familiarity gives us comfort within the
awful mysteries of death. But the singularity
of Dr. Dan forbids platitude, as demon-
strated by a few highlights from tributes
left behind on his online obituary:
Our three Border Collies have since
passed, and now I can take comfort in
knowing that Dr. Dan is up there looking
after them again!
(We) would drive to the underground
parking area and wait for Dr. Dan to come
down and perform the adjustment in the
back of our van.
Dan, affectionately known as “magic
hands,” worked on me, our horses and
our dogs.
When his daughter was asked for an
image of her father that will linger in her
mind, now that he himself has pushed
off, she spoke of a barn: light through the
rafters, the scent of hay, sawdust swirling
underfoot, as her father leans against the
shoulder of a great horse, a sharp inhale
from them both, and then the pressure
is applied, to fix what is wrong, to set
it right. ED.
Lost Ones is a new series honouring local legends and
unsung heroes who’ve recently passed. To recommend
someone whose story deserves memorializing, email
[email protected].