Our Furry Friends Are Family Too

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.

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.                                                                                                                      

Meet Our Pets

So being in the field that I'm in, I have collected a small amount of pets throughout the past five years. (Which is approximately how long I have been in this profession. Ahem.)
When I say "small amount", I say "six."
Yes. Six.
And yes, I. Am. A. Sucker.
Since I will be writing about other people's pets, I think it only fair that you meet the six of ours. So here it goes, listed in order of appearance:

Lorelai:
Lorelai is a dilute calico of whom I found at a rest area about five years ago. (And so the trend began.) She was only about 8 weeks old and so teeny tiny that I didn't have the heart to leave her there. I was on my way home to graduate with a Veterinary Technician degree, just finishing the internship at a veterinary office in Raleigh, NC. I wasn't sure what the road ahead would be like for me. I didn't know if I would then decide to stay in Asheville where I grew up, or permanently move to Raleigh where I knew a job was waiting for me. Such decisions were weighing on my mind as I was trying to coax this little kitten towards me with a leftover piece of chicken my boyfriend at the time had in his car. (The irony of this situation is that I'm a vegetarian.) I might not have known where I was going to end up at that moment in time, but one thing was for sure. I wanted that kitten.
She finally made her way to the piece of chicken and quickly started gnawing on it with her sharp kitten canines. She let me pick her up and she sat happily in my lap as she devoured piece after piece. My lap was where she stayed as I drove to the nearest Walmart and we got her a bright pink carrier to travel the rest of the way in. She curled up in a little ball and fell sound asleep the rest of the way to my parents house.
I should interject here that once said kitten was already in my car and happily purring in my lap, I decided this was the time in which I should probably call my parents to let them know that  they would be having an extra house guest. When my Dad answered the phone, I started with "Daddy?" And he knew something was up.
I quickly explained the situation, not really allowing him to say anything until I was finished telling him about my new friend. Being an animal lover himself, he couldn't refuse and said he would see the three of us in a few hours.
Once there, this little kitten (of whom I had already named Lorelai after the character in Gilmore Girls), stole the hearts of everyone. Well, almost everyone. My parents had two pitbulls at the time and they were overjoyed in a completely different way. Needless to say, Lorelai never met the two of them.
On graduation day, a few days after Lorelai's finding, I had pretty much come to the conclusion that I would be heading back to Raleigh and keeping the job that I had while interning. There was one small catch. I was still going to be staying with my brother and sister-in law, Pat and Jenn, and I wanted to be able to bring Lorelai with me.

They were coming into town to see me graduate and I didn't say a word, nor had I ever really planned to. I was already at the civic center because I had to get there earlier but I hear, Lorelai was a go from the start. She was nicely positioned in the bathroom and my parents told Pat and Jenn to go in without telling them what they would soon find. Once Jenn opened the door, she exclaimed "who is this?" in a high pitched oh my God, you are so cute voice.

Score. She was in.

And that's how Lorelai became a part of my family. 

Tuna:

In working at a Vet clinic, we often get litter upon litter of kittens via many different circumstances. Whether they are dropped off at our front door in a box, or found by someone and brought to our hospital, ect, ect, we always name, vaccinate, spay/neuter (if old enough) them before inevitably adopting them out one by one. Tuna was one of four 7 week old gray kittens in a litter, all named after a different type of fish. The other three, if I recall correctly, were named Sturgeon, Flounder and Guppy. 

The moment I laid eyes on Tuna, my heart completely melted. Though I wasn't sure if Lorelai would feel the same way and I was hesitant about getting another kitten so soon. Lorelai was no more than 6 months of age, still very much a kitten, and I didn't want to take away from that. On the other hand, I kept asking myself over and over if perhaps she would want a little friend to play with.

I had some thinking to do about this situation.

Once old enough, we decided to test at least one of the kittens from the litter to ensure that  they were FELV/FIV (two very nasty diseases that cats can contract from one another if infected) negative. Somehow, Tuna ended up being the one picked because he was one of the largest in the litter.

Tiny kitten veins are not always easy to find, in fact, more often than not, they are the hardest type to hit when trying to draw blood. The poor little tyke was such a trooper, however I was concerned he would feel differently of me once the evil task was complete. I remember saying to one of my coworkers, "OK, if he still likes me after this, maybe it's a sign."

Well, as soon as we were done, he promptly, crawled up onto my shoulder and nuzzled my neck.

Well, crap. It looked like I had a decision to make.

It couldn't have been two or three days later when we had a family come in to look at each kitten and I asked Jovana, the coworker of mine that was in charge of adopting them out at the time, who they were specifically looking at. It was then she told me it was between Guppy and Tuna.

I swear my heart stopped.

I tried not to sound panic stricken as I quickly blurted out, "Tuna's mine! Consider him adopted!"

And then there were two.

Phoebe:

Phoebe came about around a year or so later. She was a small, 8 month old-ish,black and white long haired kitten from the wrong side of the tracks. Some construction workers had found her at one of their sites and once she arrived, we quickly deduced that she was pregnant.

Very pregnant indeed.

I have always had an affinity for black and white cats and I fell in love with her quiet and sweet demeanor right away.

Apparently the feeling was mutual because I was the only employee that she seemed to warm up to. 

A couple of weeks later, she delivered 5 beautiful, healthy kittens and we named everyone after the cast of friends becasue there were 6 total (if we included the mother:). I have to say that originally one of the Doctors had named everyone after the Brady Bunch...but she looked more like a Phoebe than a Carol...and I knew I would eventually end up taking her home anyway so I felt I held rank in the naming department.  (Doctor Salmen, til this very day,  has still not let me live that one down....).

Once the kittens were old enough, Phoebe needed a break so I kindly volunteered to take her home and "foster" her.

That was Four years ago.

And then there were three.

Leira:

When I first laid eyes on Leira dog, it was love at first sight. She was an 8-9 month old shepherd/hound mix that had just had knee surgery at our hospital. 

Unbeknownst to me, her current owners were looking for a new permanent home for her. I was doing her treatments one day, and I randomly said allowed how super sweet she was and the surgeon told me that she was currently homeless.

Crap.

And I was on call for the weekend too, meaning I would have to come back several times a day to do her treatments and walk and feed her and such.

Double crap.

But I had a plan.

I decided to not say a thing about it and brought my boyfriend (now husband:), Andrew along with me to the hospital.

It didn't take long to convince him that Leira should be ours.

She joined her new home and family only a few days later.

And then there were four.

Dip and Bianca:

Let me just mention here that at this point, both Andrew and I were at our limit. We still only lived in a small, one bedroom apartment  and it was becoming smaller and smaller by the day. We decided we needed to get a new place. 

The weekend we moved in, my grandmother started taking a turn for the worst. She had scared us a week or so before, in having a stroke and ending up in the hospital. We went to see her, me somehow knowing it would be the last time, and I held her hand while she looked up at me from her hospital bed, speaking of how she would probably never see her two cats Dip and Bianca again.

Still looking in her eyes, I vaguely remember my dad saying that I had it under control and would be able to find good homes for them.

She never blinked. She just squeezed my hand and told me how that made her feel so much better.

I didn't find out until later that Andrew said in his head, "Well. Looks like we have 5 cats now."

My grandmother passed away a few weeks later.

Going to retrieve Dip and Bianca from her apartment was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I'll never forget how they meowed the entire time in the car, driving from Greensboro, back to Raleigh.

Originally, they ended up at the hospital where we updated them on their vaccines, ect.

Everyone later claimed that they knew I would end up keeping them. At the time, I didn't think so. It wasn't until weeks later that I realized when anyone else would even consider looking at them to adopt, something inside me would freeze up and freak out.

How could I give up these two precious creatures that my grandmother loved so dearly? I would never truly know what sort of home they would end up in if I let someone else take them....I knew I was capable.

And I wasn't about to break the promise of her last, dying wish.

So that was that.

And then there were six.