And you thought this was ok because...?

Today, I saw what was the grossest looking eye.... EVER. Seriously, this one totally beat the puppy that was poked in the eye with a stick and the stick was STILL HANGING OUT. Half of the cats face was red and welted. There was green and yellow discharge pouring from the eye, and he was wearing crusted tears like eyeliner. Totally gross.
As I was asking my standard, 'how long has this been going on, any sneezingcoughingwheezingnasaldischarge, etc?' The client said, "yeah, I know it's infected so I tried pouring peroxide in his eye three times a day for a week... but it doesn't seem to be helping."

Ya think?????????? OUCH!!!! Why? Why would anyone think to pour hydrogen peroxide into any living creatures EYE? Would you do that to yourself?

Luckily, he should be fine after a few days of eye ointment. We respectfully told her that it would be OK to discontinue the peroxide treatment since the prescription product would probably work better anyway....

Grace in Small things

Last week, I was having a grumbly, grumbly bad day. Tabitha erupted in allergic skin lesions that developed secondary infections almost overnight. Buddy Luck was peeing out of the box, and I found that he had a terrible UTI. I had to change his diet, which means that I now have six pets eating five different kinds of (expensive!!!) food. I was playing beat the bank with my electric and credit card bill, whose interest just went up. A cat had a feral moment and ripped down my leg before whipping around and biting my hand. I was just plain old stressed.

And then this lady came in with her very, very sick kitty. She had four children under the age of six- one of which was a six week old baby. A week before her baby was born, her husband had been laid off of work, so when she went on maternity leave they had no income. Zero. Her husband had struggled to find a new job for weeks, and money was very tight. And then on top of that, their beloved cat was ill and in need of medical attention. After spending a few minutes with her, and seeing the exhaustion radiating from every inch of her body, I pretty much felt like an ass for being so grumpy about my admittedly small problems!

This really is a time where we should be thankful for what we have, so I am going to copy my friend Katie who has started doing this- basically, posting five things that have graced my life every day. Except that there is no way that I will be doing this EVERY day- I don't have that kind of commitment. But I do want to remember to bask in the happy things in life, and not dwell on the bad.

So, here are my first five "Grace in Small Things."
1) Friends who build me up and tell me that I am doing the right thing even when I feel like I am being total jerk. And an idiot. And then spend 20 minutes telling me why I am I am neither of those things.
2) Gilda sighing, and resting her head on my lap in a totally trusting moment when just one month ago she was given good reason to never trust a human being again.
3) Cats who cuddle up with me and purr.
4) Being told, "It is amazing the way you can make me feel like you love my pet as much as I do when you are taking care of her... thank you."
5) Buddy Luck sleeping in the bed with the rest of us every night since starting on Amitriptyline, fully content and feeling great!

Gameshow time!

OK, I am playing this game for my friend Sarah, partially because I am interested to see how she will respond, but mostly because I need something fun at the moment. December rolled in this week, and tis the season for euthanasia. Sigh. All the old, sick animals have been going to heaven and it has been heartbreaking.
A personal milestone for me this week? A cat died on me under anesthesia. In five years working with animals, this is the very first time that a pet I was monitoring under anesthesia died. Yes, there have been many animals who we have performed euthanasia on when we opened them up and discovered an unfixable problem. And yes, I have had many a dog and cat arrest on me under anesthesia... but we have always, always been able to bring them back. This is partially because I am so ANAL about monitoring anesthesia, never trust the machines and TPR them manually almost constantly because the thought of a pet owner finding out that their family member didn't wake up during a routine surgery just breaks my heart. So while this cat had a heart condition and cancer, and was only getting a thoracentesis to give him a few more days and all the diligence in the world wouldn't change that- this is really, really bothering me. And will probably continue to do so for quite awhile, even though my mind tells me that it shouldn't.
And that is just a sampling of a sad, sad week!
So now, a game!

Game Show time! Post a comment, and you will win 9 prizes:
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.
3. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me - if possible. If not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me. ;)
4. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
5. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
6. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
7. I'll tell you my favorite thing about you.
8. I'll tell you my least favorite thing about you.
9. If you play, you MUST post this on yours...

These hard times

Something really messed up happened the other day. A client called and tried to refill a controlled substance, even though we hadn't seen her in over a year. She proceeded to shriek and curse at me, demanding to know what I expected her to do since she had NO *%#!# transportation! She could NOT #$!%! take a day off work or she'd be fired!!! Did I want her cat to #!$%# DIE???? And on and on. I would have been more offended by this, except that she sounded kind of weepy at the same time.
So, I politely worked with her. I looked up the number of a mobile vet, but she elected not to use it. I moved around some things on the schedule to squeeze her in for a Saturday appointment. I talked with the doctor about dispensing just two pills, enough to get her through to that Saturday appointment.
Now, usually in this situation, the person continues to be huffy, and will never admit that I went out of my way to help them, even though they didn't deserve it.
This lady? She took a deep breathe, and thanked me profusely for helping her work everything out. She then took it a step further, and thanked me for being so nice to her even though she hadn't been nice to me at all. And she kept her appointment.
The moral of this story? Everyone is stressed right now. But a little kindness goes a long, long way!

Combo Career...

Another random thought at work, that I don't think would happen many other places:

"Is that blood on my scrub top? It is! Hmmm. Is that my blood? Another person's blood? An animals blood?"

Now, I am sure that at a human hospital there are also many, many unidentified stains. But since most (I said most!) patients don't attack the doctors, you usually don't have to wonder if the blood belongs to you.

And I bet in law enforcement, you may get into a scuffle and have to wonder who the blood on your shirt came from, but I would imagine that you would usually know immediately, and not have to discover the blood later.

The Veterinary Clinic... the place where medical care meets law enforcement? Interesting...

Smell test

Further evidence that I lead a life of privilege and glamour...

"Has he peed?"
"Hmm, his blanket does look wet, let me see..."
"Oh, up, definitely wet but his water bowl is also empty, so it could be that. Probably need to know for sure though."
***sniff, sniff***
"Oh! Urine! Definitely urine! He peed! Yesssssss!"

Oh, the things that we do for our animal patients.

Poop or food?

You know how, as you go throughout your day, things pop in and out of your head very randomly?
I wonder how many people walk through the main room of their workplace and think, "Is that a turd on the floor, or a treat?"

Remember Me?

I am back on the Internet! Well, I have actually been back on for a few days now, but have been too busy to update. Or lazy. Or overwhelmed. However you want to look at it. Surprisingly, I have gotten a couple of e-mails from friends that have said, "UPDATE YOUR BLOG!!! WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU???" Which is flattering, to say the least!
So, here's my rundown of the past week:
Saturday (8/30):
Got up early in the morning to go to work. Yes, I am an overachiever who works the day that I move! So what?
After work, I frantically started to throw more things into the boxes, and quickly realized that even in two cars, I was going to have to leave some stuff behind for awhile. For those of you who don't know (I think most of you have been told in person), Jon will be keeping our old place for at least another month, and may not be moving down with me. I say may not because after The Break Up, we started to talk and work things out and there is a chance that we will start over. Or we won't. That's all up in the air at the moment.
Moving on...
After a whirlwind trip down, Martha, Karina and my mom (who had evacuated from the hurricane) flopped onto the floor to watch the pets stumble around drunkenly. Pretty amusing stuff!
Sunday (8/31):
Had breakfast with a friend of Martha and Karina... who also happens to be one of the doctors I will be working with starting Tuesday. The four of us had a lot of fun, and I was able to see the clinic two days before starting work! Which started a major attack of the nerves, which I staved off for the moment by going cleaning supply shopping with Karina, while Martha headed home. Bye, Martha! :(
Monday (9/1):
I am going to smack the next person who says, "Why are you nervous about starting work? You've done this job before!" OK, seriously, let me be nervous! Yes, I have worked in clinics for years, but not THIS clinic. Different clients, different co-workers, different techniques. Also, at my old job I was very happy 99% of the time. I don't WANT to do new stuff, because I was happy with my old stuff! Does that make sense? Not that I am not looking forward to work, but I've never started a new job without hating my previous job in some way! Plus, the desperation for everyone to LOVE me and for me to be PERFECT in every way puts a lot of pressure on new situations. So, Monday became a day to pace, agonize and read. And Karina went home. Bye, Karina! :(
Tuesday (9/2):
First day of work! I left an hour before I had to be there, and was thus 30 minutes early to work. Hey, I didn't know how bad traffic would be or if I would get lost. So, I was overly prepared. Better safe than sorry, right? Everyone at work was really nice, and it was basically a "getting to know you" kind of day. New faces, a new routine, but still good. Though admittedly, I was longing for the previous week, where Tuesday meant that I was setting up surgery, placing catheters, doing releases- basically a clear picture of what to do when because I had done the exact thing a million times before! Silly, I know, but I really hate changes to my routine. Actually, I didn't realize how much I hate change until now. I must be getting cranky in my old age.
Honestly though, I really think I am going to like the job a lot. I like the way they do things, and I like the specific delegations of responsibility within the nursing team as a whole. It just isn't MY routine yet!
Wednesday (9/3):
Praise the LORD, Internet was installed at home. Welcome back to the real world!
Thursday (9/4) and Friday (9/5):
Work, unpack, sleep, repeat. Somewhere in here, I caved into temptation and decided to get satellite TV, since my antenna only picks up one channel out here. I'm kind of mad at myself for that, but I'm missing all kinds of horse racing and news.
Today:
Had the best country breakfast at a little diner with my mom before she headed home. BEST... MEAL... EVER. Suddenly remembered reason number 8,000 that I wanted to move here. The bread was homemade from scratch, and unbelievably sweet. The eggs were fresh, the hash brown casserole was perfect, and the bacon just melted in my mouth. I mean, WOW. It put every other breakfast to shame!
This week-end has been about putting things away, and re-arranging furniture, but I took a break to fix supper for my grandparents. They came out and we had such a nice time eating, and then walking around the farm for awhile. Which brings us to now, with me digesting my wonderful chicken and rice while watching the sunset with the cats napping at my feet.

It's good to be a country girl!

Interview

So. My interview last week. I spent two hours talking with one of the doctors and the practice manager over lunch. They were very laid back, extremely friendly and I immediately liked them. Their practice is limited to cats only, which is one of the things that peaked my interest. Aside from my obvious rapport with cats, it is a lot less physically demanding. Not to mention quieter!
The thing that impressed me the most was their high standard of care, and the intelligence demanded of the employees. Continuing education is required of all employees, paid for by the clinic. In addition, they conduct their own weekly staff training, after which employees are required to take a test. They offer incentives for scoring high on these exams; their goal is to have very few, very intelligent, well-trained employees. After hearing about that, I felt that the job would be right up my ally. I love to learn, I love continuing education meetings and... I am kind of a snob about where I work. I have to work with intelligent people, in a high-quality environment. I've heard horror stories about other veterinary clinics, where animals were not cared for properly, surgeries were not sterile, the clinic was unclean or people just plain old didn't care about the animals. And I can't work like that, I just can't. I have more respect for myself and the patients than that, and it sounds like this clinic feels the same way. Hearing about their practice made me so excited that it took me forever to even register the fact that they offer a nice salary, really nice hours and excellent benefits. All of that would be the icing on the cake!
At the end of our meeting, they let me know that they really felt like I would do well there, but that there were some things that they needed to sort out first. They promised to call me within a week to let me know. Which means that for the past 6 days, I have been on pins and needles, wondering if I would get the job, checking my cell phone obsessively for missed calls and re-hashing the interview in my mind- did I say anything stupid? (Besides saying that I liked to be "mentally challenged" at work. In answer to their laughter, I said, "Oh! I mean challenged mentally! I mean, I like to use my brain! There, that's what I am trying to say!" Damn you, post-op pain medication!)
Well, apparently, I didn't come off entirely stupid, because I got The Call this morning! I accepted the job, of course which means that I will not only have a job that will be challenging and fulfilling, I will also be able to pay for the luxuries in life: you know, electricity, groceries, water...

Worth Every Tear

I sat up with that golden retriever after his first surgery, stayed with him on my own time until past 10pm. I held his head in my lap and sat on the cold, hard floor outside of his cage because the doctor was worried about him. He'd been under anesthesia for so long, and was slow to wake up. Painful. Listless. So I sat with him, while his owners slept home in their beds, knowing their pet was being lovingly cared for. He did so well for a little while, until he began to gnaw at his abdomen again. Inflammation and infection set in, surgery number two to remove the dying tissue was a success. Until he started getting sick again. Specialists were called, cultures were done, every blood test analyzed by an army of doctors. Surgery number three would certainly do the trick, surely the infected tissue could be removed. But there was so much. To get it all would mean a long and painful recovery, above and beyond what he had already suffered. Relapse was possible, even probable. Rather than put him through any more, the owners chose to give their dog a peaceful end as payment for years of unwavering love and loyalty. They came in with their children to say goodbye while he was still under anesthesia. The kids gave him kisses, stroked his head, held his paw. I was struck by their bravery, with their gritted teeth, chin in the air, tears falling silently. The father broke down, head buried in his dog's ruff, choking back sobs. And then the mother, bravest of them all. She encased her family in one big hug (how do mother's do this? Offer comfort and healing all at once? Become larger than life?), and though misty-eyed, never let her comforting words waver, never allowed her voice to crack. She told her children how special they were, because by loving their dog so much, they had made memories that would last forever, that they could hold inside their hearts. Because of them, she said, their dog would live forever. With a kiss, and a final pet, she ushered them out the door, seeming to hold her three children and her husband in one embrace. I feel privileged to have been a part of such a moving scene, and honored that I shared a part of this wonderful dog's life.

Still teary-eyed, one of the doctors grabbed me to help them in another exam room. A fifteen year old cat was losing his battle with cancer, and his elderly gentleman owner had decided that the time was right to let him go. I went in to greet the scrappy cat who I'd met many times before, and to check on his heartbroken owner. He is an old-fashioned man, well mannered and stoic, a throwback to the 1930's when men were the stern, unemotional heads of the household and nothing more. He gruffly accepted what was about to happen, and stroked his cat's tumor-scarred head while the doctor gently explained each step of the euthanasia. When she confirmed that cat's heart had stopped, he accepted this fact with a jerk of his head. As I cradled his cat close to me, he turned away... and fell apart. Sobs wracked his frail body, a grief too deep and personal to share. This cat was the last family this man had left, and now he was gone. Respectfully, we set out tissue and stepped back, instinctively knowing that any further gesture would insult his pride. Once he was composed, he turned and left empty-handed, just as stoically as he had come in.

Do you know why working with animals is so damned heart-wrenching? Every animal we see ultimately has an owner. It might be the beloved pet of a whole family, one person or someone who found him five minutes ago. There are two sides to the story- in front of you is the animal who is suffering, sometimes horrendously. Your heart tears in half at the sight as you struggle to follow doctor's orders while also providing a comforting touch. Right next to that animal is an owner, willing the life back into their best friend with all of their might. Tearfully begging him to hang on, fight back, promising cheese or new toys, whatever he wants if he just hangs on. While these moments are so special and so real, they hurt. They tear you apart. So why do I continue to do what I do? Because the poor pet has no idea what is going on, but no matter what kind of pain he is in, or confusion he feels, there is always some kind of response to his beloved human's voice. How many times have I seen a near-lifeless animal lift his head at the sound of his owner's steps? Touch? More than I can count. It's the times that do they bounce back, against all odds, that make days like today worth every tear.


But just barely.

Work place giggles!

Thanks everyone, for all the offers of places to stay! On one hand, I hope to not have to take anyone up on their offers, because I would really hate to live in limbo like that. I'd rather them find a good replacement for me so that I can move guilt-free.
On the other hand, I love my job and hate the idea of leaving it! I mean, how many offices have this kind of situation:

Doctor (looking at an x-ray):

Oh... MY... GOD!!! This cat ate something HUGE. It's the size of a guinea pig!

Slightly Dim Co-Worker:

Wow, really? The cat, like ATE a guinea pig? How did it do that? Is it in there whole????

(Much laughter ensued!)

Moments, later, on the ultrasound table....

Doctor:

Well, she's eat hair ties in the past, but either she's eaten a bunch, or she ate a ball or something...

Me: (giggling)

We should so get a picture of a guinea pig, stick it on the screen and call her in here!

(another co-worker runs to print a photo out online, and sticks it to the screen)

Me:

Oh, my God!!!! Slightly Dim Co-Worker, get in here!!!!!!

Slightly Dim Co-Worker:

What? What? (looking at the screen) OH MY GO- wait.... OH, I hate you guys!!!!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

Seriously, what would I do in a dry, boring work-place???

The Cat who Ate.... EVERYTHING

The Cat Who Ate... EVERYTHING!

**********Warning- There are pictures. They are gross. Stop reading here if you do not like gross!!!**********

A few weeks ago, this very handsome red cat came in to the clinic for loss of appetite and vomiting. "Jake" was feeling good, running around the house and the yard as always, but anorexia from a cat who would normally eat anything sent up a major red flag for his owners. He didn't seem painful on palpation, but the doctor was able to feel something large in his abdomen. The x-rays revealed that something was in there, but what? A tumor? A bird? For the next few hours, we gave barium, x-rayed some more and waited for the barium to go through. And waited.... and waited.

Well, finally we couldn't wait any longer; the only choice was an exploratory surgery to remove whatever was causing the obstruction, because it wasn't coming out any other way. The doctors opened his stomach, expecting to find a ball or some other hard object. Instead, they began to pull out string after string. Headbands. Q-Tips. Grass. Hair ties. Curling ribbons. Food wrappers. Shoelaces. Partially digested food. His stomach was like one of those clown cars-stuff just kept spilling out!

In the end, it turned out that this ten pound cat had 1/3 pound of stuff in his stomach that didn't belong there. It had most likely been collecting there for months! Jake had never changed his behavior, had never acted like he was in pain. His appetite did not decrease until the day before his surgery. Cats are absolutely amazing creatures- sure, he wasn't very bright to eat all of that stuff, but no human would have been able to stand that discomfort, much less go on leading a normal life!

Weeks later, Jake is doing great, and up to his same old naughty tricks. But his family is keeping much closer tabs on their garbage, and anything else he might get into his mind to eat! Because, apparently, he will eat anything.

Because nothing is ever set in stone....

Just when I thought I had everything under control for my move, I was thrown another curve ball. My boss has offered to compensate me for staying on at the clinic until we have a well-trained replacement- a couple of extra weeks at the most. Which is actually something I had offered to do in the first place- see about staying with friends or something for a couple of extra weeks if it would smooth the transition. At the time, she refused, saying that she didn't want to apply that kind of pressure to me. However, with the hiring pool being so shallow (aren't we supposedly in a recession??? Shouldn't everyone be looking for a job???) good help is hard to find, and I think they are getting worried.

So, it looks like I may stick around as a homeless wanderer in between my move. And no, I will not be accepting the compensation- as I said, I'd planned to do that to begin with if it would be helpful to them. Leaving such wonderful bosses is the most difficult part of this move, and I feel so guilty about it that I would probably clean the whole clinic with a toothbrush if they asked me too!

A very thin, gray line

Most days, I love my job. Even when the animals are sick or die, I feel that we have done our best to help them. Their days of care are filled with love and compassion, and they have been kept comfortable throughout their recoveries or last days.


Once upon a time, I was anti-euthanasia, believing that animals would die when their time came and that we had no right to screw with their life on earth. Since then, I have been exposed to animals that are suffering greatly and have no hope of recovery, lingering in pain for days or weeks past their time. At that point, euthanasia is a gift of peace, and I have reconciled myself with that.


But then, there are days when euthanasia feels like a far cry from a peaceful gift; sometimes it feels more like murder. And I hate those situations, I hate them so much! Now don't get me wrong- the doctor's I work for will not euthanize an animal that doesn't have a medical condition that warrants it. If someone calls wanting their pet put down because they don't feel like moving with them, we refer them to a rescue organization.

The gray area occurs when there is a medical problem that shows no outward signs, is something potentially fixable or is a problem that will not be life-altering for a few more months. For example, a cat that is diagnosed with cancer, but still feels fine and the owners want to put to sleep before it starts to feel badly. It is a loving decision on their part; they don't want their beloved pet to suffer. But, even though the cat has a terminal disease, he potentially could have 6 more months of comfort and normalcy before the inevitable, so why end his life now? Euthanasia is ethically acceptable in this situation because there is a diagnosis, and it is a painful one that will cause a lot of suffering before finally ending the cats life. But morally, how can you perform euthanasia on an animal that doesn't appear or necessarily even feel sick? One that is purring? Or barking, running around and giving kisses? It's just so depressing when you know that euthanasia is the right decision eventually, just not right at that moment.

I know it's not my place to question such a personal, emotionally draining decision, but some days it just breaks my heart to the point that I can hardly stand it. Still, my job is the same as any other day- offer gentle hands and kind words, and allow for comfort in the end. Ultimately, that is the most important thing.

And the winner is.....

Project Linus! It is official, as of today our clinic's charity for February is going to be Project Linus. January's donations are ready to be sent out, and our new signs and donation boxes are prominently displayed in the lobby. Most importantly, I purchased some colorful yarn today and have set to work knitting my first blanket. Being the ambitious person that I am, I am determined to make at least two blankets by the end of the month. Considering that I have not held a set of knitting needles in my hands in at least 10 years, this should be a very interesting process. I already had to rip apart two hours worth of work when I dropped 15 stitches right in a row. I'd love to blame Kody for this, but this somehow occurred during the 30 seconds that he was NOT playing with the ball of yarn. Sigh.

So, if any of you are feeling ambitious and would like to makes a blanket or two, check out the website and let me know! How can you say no to sick kids? :)

Suggestion Box

At the beginning of January, a co-worker and I were put in charge of finding some sort of charitable organization for our clinic to donate to every month. We give our clients an opportunity to be involved if they choose, and at the end of the month co-ordinate getting donations to said charity, and setting up the next one. This all started in November, when I went through some of the old clinic scrubs. I came up with a huge pile that were no use to us anymore, and I asked if I could donate them to a local drug rehabilitation center, where scrubs are the required uniforms of the residents. They were thrilled with the donation, and one of the doctor's and I began to talk about how we should do these things more often. So, in December, we got together as a clinic and made Christmas gift baskets for some of our clients on a fixed incomes. It was the best feeling, and finding a charity a month became a 2008 New Years Resolution.

So, for January we have been collecting children's clothes and toiletries for one of the doctor's pet charities- an orphanage in Central America. With January winding down, I am trying to come up with next month's charity. I have several thoughts in mind, but I would really love some suggestions also. Something that we could collect tangible objects for- not money, as I really feel like that would open up a whole organizational mess. Plus, I really feel like people donate money on their own time and terms. Besides, it is a lot more fun to walk into a place with an armful of STUFF that you can imagine being used for years to come.

Any thoughts?

Brave Buddy Luck, DVM

Yes, apparently Brave Buddy Luck is a veterinarian! You see, despite our conversation yesterday about his need for a urinary catheter, he had gotten it out by the time I arrived at the clinic at 7:30am- still in my Eeyore jammies, I might add. Much gnashing off teeth and hair pulling ensued. All the while, he gave me that, "Ahh, I don't need that thing now! I am Dr. Buddy Luck, and I know that all is well. Except I need food. And some drugs. Please now," look. While he was unable to produce a Veterinary school diploma, facts were facts- NO CRYSTAL BLOCKAGES today as of 6:15pm, when I left for the last time! He ate! He peed! He purred! He rolled around in his cage! He begged for petting! Life is good! (please, please, please let it still be good tomorrow!)

Total number of volunteered hours at the clinic this week-end- ~10
Total number of trips to the clinic: 6
Total number of times the doctor came in special to check him- 3
Total number of honorary feline DVM's awarded- 1
Total number of cat's saved: 1

I think those numbers come together nicely!

And now for total numbers of potential homes: _______
(You know you wanna!)

Oh, and...

The little golden retriever who touched my heart so much last week is getting obedience training in an effort to make everyone in the home happier! Wish her luck!

Clients get the normal animals

I know that everyone is on pins and needles waiting to hear about Buddy (aka "Nevermind." I like it!). Let me preface this update by stating one fact about people who work in the veterinary field: We do not get the normal pets. This rule also applies to anyone who has an especially caring heart. As my friend Martha always says, "The Agency" knows where to send animals in need.

I came in this morning to discover that "Nevermind" had managed to squeeze his urinary catheter out, which had to be immediately replaced right in the middle of our early Saturday morning rush. He also, very creatively, managed to pull at his IV catheter with his opposite leg (picking times to work at this when absolutely NO ONE was looking!) until it came out completely. This cat is absolutely smarter than me, as he did this three times before I realized that he was telling me that he preferred subcutaneous fluids. Clearly, I need to take a refresher course in CatSignals 101. :) So, he and I had a talk about WHY we were doing the things that we were doing, and (since he is very smart) he agreed to keep the urinary catheter in place (you know, just to please me), as it was very important to his continuing health!

What a stinker! I swear that he became difficult as soon as I took him on. It is NOT easy for an animal to get a catheter out, especially when they are fully outfitted in an E-Collar. But, he managed, as he is my cat now- at least until I find him a suitable home. The pros to being "my" cat? He has been purring all along! He is tough and strong and amazingly co-operative, while still being opinionated (and very clear in his fluid delivery preferences). I love him a little bit more everyday!

So, as I have done for countless sick animals, I spent most of the afternoon and early evening with Mr. Nevermind, because we were closed and he needed some extra special attention. Unfortunately, as I have stated before, I do not do well in emergency situations when it comes to my own animals. Even though my friend Katie! was quick to point out that this should be considered a character strength, not a flaw, it is still frustrating to worry 10 times worse about EVERY little thing! And I am already a worrywort about every last thing when it come to any patient, much less my very own pet! Usually, I consider this a strength- more worrying about the patient = more attention to detail = better overall care and safety for the patient. But on my own animal? The attention to detail goes into warp drive! "Did you see him squinting a minute ago??? HE MUST HAVE BEEN UNDER OXYGENATED DURING ANESTHESIA AND IS NOW BLIND!!!!" (The fact that his O2 stat never dropped below 98%? Minor, minor detail!) OK, that was a dramatization (I am not THAT bad), but you get my point. As one of the doctor's laughed this morning, "And he has been you pet for how long?" I know, I know.

Well, time to stare mindlessly at the TV for a little bit.

And resist the urge to go running down to the clinic at midnight to check on him.

In the nick of time

About two months ago, the vet clinic that I work for had a cat come with his urethra obstructed with crystals from his bladder. His bladder was on the verge of rupturing, and he was probably about 10 minutes from death when we started the procedure. I sat with him, listening to this faint, irregular heartbeat and PRAYING as I basically breathed for him. Tough cat that he is, he stabilized, pulled through and was purring within the hour! His strong, sweet personality became increasingly apparent the better he felt. I admit it, I became pretty attached to the little guy.

Fast forward to today: he had been doing great until his owner stopped feeding him his special diet, meant to prevent the re-formation of his crystals. He re-obstructed- his owner elected for euthanasia since she couldn't afford the procedure. One of our doctors said that she would do the surgery at no cost if the owner promised to keep him on his special diet- the owner again elected for euthanasia, stating that feeding this diet would be too much of a hardship. The doctor was sad, I was upset- there is something very bonding about listening to a cat nearly die, then watching him fight on, keep his gentle personality, only to be sentenced to death. As we hesitantly gathered our supplies, and I took him in my arms, he looked right into my eyes. I started to tremble. I just couldn’t hold him for a procedure that felt so wrong to me. The doctor just sighed and sighed, repeating over and over, “He’s suffering, he’s suffering, if he doesn’t get the care he needs he’ll die painfully, he may always have problems… we just have to know we are performing a kindness… right?” We looked at each other and at the last possible second, we stopped the euthanasia, I called the owner and asked her if she was interested in another option for her cat. I respectfully said that he was her pet, and she needed to choose the option that felt right to her - if she was most comfortable with euthanasia, I certainly would respect that. But, if she were interested, she could sign her kitty over to me, and I would either keep him or find him a good home. She became tearful, and was thrilled that someone who “obviously really cares,” would be taking him on, because she did want him to have the change that she could not provide. Our euthanasia became a urethral obstruction relief, the struvite crystals are GONE, and he is hopefully on his way to a happy life.

So, meet Buddy!

Buddy the cat, who in the last 12 hours has been rechristened, "Lucky," "Euthy," "Thank GOD we hired that cat girl," "Close Call," "Almost," "Mr. I saw Jesus coming and he rejected me." I could go on, but you probably get the point!!! He also said, LOUDLY, when we placed an IV catheter for surgery, "HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM AFTER YOU WAVED THAT PINK SHOT IN MY FACE??????"

He is four years old, lilac colored and very even tempered. He absolutely needs a home where he can be kept on his special diet. I know I can't save them all, but I saved this one. I know that there is a chance he will re obstruct no matter is done. I can accept that. But I have a good feeling. I just do. He is very special, and he deserves a chance. SO, if anyone knows anyone who would like this cat, who would love him and feed him his special diet, please let me know! Look at that face- could you have done it? Doesn't he deserve better?

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As a side note, I am very pro-euthanasia when it is necessary. I believe that it is the kindest, most humane thing that can be done for an animal that is suffering and has no hope of recovery. I once believed that an animal would die when it was ready to die, and that no one had the right to alter the natural plan. I have now learned that this is not true. An animal will be ready to die, but suffer terribly for weeks, even months. It is kinder to save them all of that, and allow them to cross the Rainbow Bridge where they can run and play and forget all about suffering and illness. Humans are entrusted with the guardianship of animals; this is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. Which is why, in this case, I felt that my responsibility to this cat lie elsewhere.

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