I woke up this morning feeling irritated and I'm not really sure where it stemmed from. I wasn't necessarily in a bad mood, but I found myself getting frustrated over my job and some of the clients that we have to deal with. Maybe it's because this week has been full of euthanasia and sometimes, it becomes a bit much.
I was telling a co-worker the other day how one of the worst things about being a part of a pet's euthanasia is how you never really know how a client is going to react to the situation. We have had some clients who haven't been able to drive themselves home because they were so upset and others just seem indifferent.
It's these indifferent ones that I have a harder time with. I can't tell you how many times I have heard the statements "It's just a dog" or "It's just a cat" or "A bullet is cheaper"....
Admittedly, this is not the norm. I am very fortunate to work in a Veterinary office where the majority of our clients view their pets as family. But there is still occassion when they just don't seem to care.
This bothers me.
Maybe I'm being judgmental and closed minded. But I just don't understand this sort of thinking. Why even have a pet if you aren't going to treat it as family. They are so very important to our everyday lives and some people just don't get it. And how dare anyone say to me, one of my co-workers or anyone else who works in the veterinary field "it's just a dog"....because most likely, no one you say this to who works with animals day in and day out, feels this way. Our job is to do our very best at keeping your pet healthy and safe and in educating you in how to care for and love this being that can't speak for itself.
You don't have to understand this form of thinking, but you should at least respect it. Why even bother to bring your pet to the vet if you truly feel this way?
I've personally grown up having pets my entire life and I am very fortunate to have parents who are so very kind hearted, especially when it comes to the love and care of an animal. (Let's put it this way, if reincarnation is a real thing, I would like to come back as a pet in our future family tree.)
I've somewhat recently discovered that when I enter a home that has no pets, I instantly feel uncomfortable. It just seems unnatural to me. Our pets provide so much love that we as humans can't even begin to understand. My pets (yes, all 6 of them:) somehow know if I've had a bad day or if I'm not feeling well. They actually take turns nursing me and making sure I'm OK. We have a bond like no other and they don't sit there and judge me for the way I am feeling or interrupt me when I'm ranting about my day. They listen. And no, they may not completely understand what is going on, but they don't have to. They know what's important. The details don't even matter.
Sometimes a pet is all a person has in their lives. We have several older clients who have lost their spouse and the only thing they have to come home to after a long day is the warm wag of a tail, rub on a leg or lick to the face.I 'm a firm believer that our pets prolong our longevity.
They get us.
But some just aren't so lucky and it's sad and unfair and unjust. Our pets love us unconditionally no matter what....
All I ask is that you provide them with the same devotional love that they give you each day. Don't take this for granted. They really are a part of your family and if you can honestly say that they aren't, don't waste your time, more importantly, don't waste their time and find them a home where they matter.
Maybe I sound crazy and if that's the case, so be it. But I know I'm not alone in this thinking and I honestly feel sorry for those who don't get it. I'm one of the lucky ones.
I hope when you read this, you realize that you are too.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Dial "M" For Mouse
Wednesday morning I was awoken by my husband Andrew with the statement, "Um, Mary, I think you need to see this...."
One might think that this isn't unusual, however it was 4:00 in the morning and I'm not considered a "morning person" per say so he was treading on dangerous ground.
I knew it had to be something concerning.
I rolled out of bed and followed him into the guest room/cat room/office, only to immediately see what he was talking about and trying to keep myself from screaming bloody murder. (This particular statement is quite ironic later on the story.)
Underneath the desk, laid a bloody mess of something unidentifiable. I ran over to look at it and exclaimed, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?"
Andrew politely answered that he didn't know and that's why he knew I would need to see it because there was no way of being able to explain the look of it later on without me ever have seen it.
There were three small bloody piles of what at first looked like a mix of intestine and possibly an organ or two. So naturally, I thought that one of the cats was vomiting up their own insides. I frantically started running around, checking each one individually re: looking in their mouths, belly's, lifting up tails, ect. All of this in the midst of them trying to eat their breakfast.
They were all looking at me like "What the hell Mom?!? We're trying to eat here! How dare you disturb us!"
I then went back over to the unknown pile of goo, where Andrew had yet to move away from because I think he was in shock. We began to clean it up with paper towels and that's when I made my first mistake and sniffed what lay in front of us....
Yes. I love my cats THAT much....
I then ran away gagging and suddenly remembered that I don't handle this sort of thing well in the wee hours of the morning. Andrew was a dear and commenced cleaning the rest of it up.
We both went back to bed, lying on our backs, slightly twitching and in silence.
A light bulb went off in my head....."Was it a mouse? It had to be right? There's nothing else it could have been...but how did it get upstairs?"
Andrew tried to reason with me by stating that he had never seen mouse droppings in our house so it couldn't have been a mouse.
I rebutted with "We have 5 cats!!! No little critter stands a chance once entering our house. You saw the decapitated cockroach! You know the truth that lies behind our furry friends. They're evil...."
(Scratch that....it's Lorelai who is to blame for decapitating her findings and watching them slowly die...I can't fairly blame anyone else for this.)
"Oh God. Speaking of which. I didn't see a head. Was it an animal? What was it? Did you keep it? Where did you put it?"
Andrew politely listened to my ramblings of trying to solve the mystery of the bloody mess and answered that he had left the bag of remains on our front porch.
So I took it to work with me and had my co-worker Cathy investigate further. She slowly unwrapped the bag and took out the paper towel which had then frozen a bit from being outside. She took out what she could (that is, what was not stuck to said paper towel) and the first thing we both noticed was a long, thin, partially eaten string....
She lifted it up and we both looked at each other.....reaching the same conclusion.
It was a tail.
I called Andrew to let him know that it was indeed a mouse that the cats had caught, trapped, eaten (and possibly vomited). Andrew then told me that Lorelai wouldn't stop staring at him...almost like a warning not to cross her path....
In a way we were both relieved that it was a mouse and not one of our pets being severely injured/sick...but I I have to honestly say, I felt bad for the little guy.
When I went to lunch later on that day, I checked my phone to see if anyone had called and received this message:
"Is this the face of a killer?"
I'll leave that answer up to you guys. What do you think?
On a side note, we named the little mouse Clarence (after the angel in "It's A Wonderful Life"), in hopes that he would serve to warn all mice to not enter, for it would be suicide.
Rest in peace Clarence.
Rest in peace.
One might think that this isn't unusual, however it was 4:00 in the morning and I'm not considered a "morning person" per say so he was treading on dangerous ground.
I knew it had to be something concerning.
I rolled out of bed and followed him into the guest room/cat room/office, only to immediately see what he was talking about and trying to keep myself from screaming bloody murder. (This particular statement is quite ironic later on the story.)
Underneath the desk, laid a bloody mess of something unidentifiable. I ran over to look at it and exclaimed, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?"
Andrew politely answered that he didn't know and that's why he knew I would need to see it because there was no way of being able to explain the look of it later on without me ever have seen it.
There were three small bloody piles of what at first looked like a mix of intestine and possibly an organ or two. So naturally, I thought that one of the cats was vomiting up their own insides. I frantically started running around, checking each one individually re: looking in their mouths, belly's, lifting up tails, ect. All of this in the midst of them trying to eat their breakfast.
They were all looking at me like "What the hell Mom?!? We're trying to eat here! How dare you disturb us!"
I then went back over to the unknown pile of goo, where Andrew had yet to move away from because I think he was in shock. We began to clean it up with paper towels and that's when I made my first mistake and sniffed what lay in front of us....
Yes. I love my cats THAT much....
I then ran away gagging and suddenly remembered that I don't handle this sort of thing well in the wee hours of the morning. Andrew was a dear and commenced cleaning the rest of it up.
We both went back to bed, lying on our backs, slightly twitching and in silence.
A light bulb went off in my head....."Was it a mouse? It had to be right? There's nothing else it could have been...but how did it get upstairs?"
Andrew tried to reason with me by stating that he had never seen mouse droppings in our house so it couldn't have been a mouse.
I rebutted with "We have 5 cats!!! No little critter stands a chance once entering our house. You saw the decapitated cockroach! You know the truth that lies behind our furry friends. They're evil...."
(Scratch that....it's Lorelai who is to blame for decapitating her findings and watching them slowly die...I can't fairly blame anyone else for this.)
"Oh God. Speaking of which. I didn't see a head. Was it an animal? What was it? Did you keep it? Where did you put it?"
Andrew politely listened to my ramblings of trying to solve the mystery of the bloody mess and answered that he had left the bag of remains on our front porch.
So I took it to work with me and had my co-worker Cathy investigate further. She slowly unwrapped the bag and took out the paper towel which had then frozen a bit from being outside. She took out what she could (that is, what was not stuck to said paper towel) and the first thing we both noticed was a long, thin, partially eaten string....
She lifted it up and we both looked at each other.....reaching the same conclusion.
It was a tail.
I called Andrew to let him know that it was indeed a mouse that the cats had caught, trapped, eaten (and possibly vomited). Andrew then told me that Lorelai wouldn't stop staring at him...almost like a warning not to cross her path....
In a way we were both relieved that it was a mouse and not one of our pets being severely injured/sick...but I I have to honestly say, I felt bad for the little guy.
When I went to lunch later on that day, I checked my phone to see if anyone had called and received this message:
I'll leave that answer up to you guys. What do you think?
On a side note, we named the little mouse Clarence (after the angel in "It's A Wonderful Life"), in hopes that he would serve to warn all mice to not enter, for it would be suicide.
Rest in peace Clarence.
Rest in peace.
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