Foster Failure

Though I will say right off the bat that I never really expected to be a success in this particular case. :-)

This is Jenna. Jenna has been a patient at the clinic for roughly the same amount of time as I've worked there. She's an 8 1/2-year-old King Charles Cavalier with a grade 3 heart murmur who is currently in stage 3 kidney failure. Her previous owner, Voldemort (as in She Who Shall Not Be Named because she's a terrible person!), had a trade services agreement with the clinic, meaning that we gave her free vet care and she gave us free advertising in the magazine for which she worked. That agreement was made, of course, prior to Jenna's deterioration of health so, in the end, Voldemort ended up with a pretty sweet deal. In the last month of her contract, Voldemort had to bring Jenna in every other day to receive subcutaneous fluids; she had to pay for the fluids but not the actual tech time, which saved Voldy about $25 per visit. Voldemort's contract with the clinic expired in mid-August and the clinic manager chose not to renew it. Literally three days after Voldemort was informed of this, she decided Jenna was on death's doorstep and needed to be euthanized. 

Unfortunately for Voldy and fortunately for Jenna, the latter had been coming in to the clinic so frequently that all of us knew she wasn't ready to go. Jenna made a point of visiting the reception staff each time she came in for her visit, and then she'd head to the back without any prompting. When we'd let her in the treatment area, she'd trot around and say hi to all the techs and then head toward the table where she received her fluids. Jenna LOVES people but she was my girlfriend and everyone knew it; anytime Jenna came for fluids, everyone knew I'd do it because Jenna was a favorite of mine. She'd give me kisses after her treatments and I'd give her liver treats. We had a relationship. :-) So when the staff heard Voldemort planned to put Jenna down, we were all up in arms. We talked to the doctor about Jenna and he agreed to talk to Voldemort about surrendering Jenna to the hospital. Turned out Voldy wasn't interested in surrendering Jenna, she absolutely wanted her put to sleep. We all talked about this attitude in the back and came to the conclusion that, as an owner, if a doctor agrees to put your animal down, your belief in her poor health is validated and you, therefore, are not a bad person. If, on the other hand, the doctor wants you to give your pet to someone else, that means your animal isn't beyond saving and you are giving up on her. It really took a lot of persuading but the doctor finally convinced Voldemort to let Jenna go and she officially became the hospital dog. 

I think the doctor and the manager (his wife) were so easily persuaded to save Jenna because they believed I was going to adopt Jenna. And, believe me, I really wanted to! And I talked to Robert about it at length. Unfortunately, Jenna's care is quite costly and with the baby coming and the adoption in the queue, caring for a special needs dog wasn't the best idea. So the hospital was stuck with Jenna. There were several inquiries from clients interested in her but once they learned of her special needs, each one declined. Understandable, of course, because so did I but it was still sad. Jenna is an AWESOME dog - she loves people, car rides, and walks and is not fazed by loud noises, cats, dogs, children, or anything else. Aside from her medical needs, Jenna is the most low-maintenance dog you'll ever meet. But since no one was rushing to adopt her, Jenna had nowhere to go. Which, of course, meant I took her home the first night. 

Another tech took Jenna home several times in the beginning but she has two small children and a very active lifestyle and it was tougher for her to keep Jenna. Robert and I, as you know, are not social butterflies so slowly I became the Foster Lady and I was tickled pink. Robert fell for Jenna soon after meeting her, as I knew he would; it wasn't long at all before he decided she needed a new bed, new bowls, and a new collar. It's been 8 weeks now and Jenna is definitely a McCauley! It's actually a pretty sweet deal - I get to keep her but since I haven't officially adopted her, the clinic pays for her prescription food, three different medications, and her fluids/dripsets/needles. The manager has OK'd this arrangement for as long as I work there so I couldn't be happier!! I honestly don't know if that will change when I'm on maternity leave but I'm really hoping not.

We took Jenna to the dog park but she mostly just wanted to hang with people.

Linguini was VERY unhappy with Jenna's presence when she first arrived but he's slowly gotten used to her, in part because he's figured out she doesn't move much so she's not going to come at him. He no longer hisses at her and they can both be in the same room together. Funk was a little jealous at first but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting and now he's completely indifferent to her. Except when Robert or I get home from work - Funk definitely wants to be the first to say hello and is a little dramatic when Jenna trots up to say hi, too. I, of course, have to give Jenna all of her treatments and I will admit it's not super fun. She won't eat pill pockets so I literally have to shove the pills down her throat and syringe-feed her some water to make her swallow. And this happens twice a day. Jenna has also decided she's tired of being poked every other day and so doesn't take her fluids as uncomplainingly as she used to. But she's just a doll and I love her to bits. My parents like her, too, (a lot!) and have been super awesome about letting Jenna hang at their house when Funk does. Things have been going as well as could be expected and I'm just so happy about that.

She did pretty much immediately decide Funk's bed was her new bed and Funk is too much a gentleman to kick her out.

Jenna's health is the elephant in the room, though, and it's already decreased some in just the short amount of time she's been with us. Her kidney failure is a little tougher to manage given her heart issues so she gets bloodwork done every so often to check-up on things. (Another expense I'm extremely grateful the clinic covers.) The doctors estimate she has less than 12 months to be with us and while that does make me terribly sad to think about, I'm just so happy she's getting to experience love and cuddles and fun that fostering her is absolutely worth the upcoming heartache. And, best of all, when it is her time to go, I'll know with all my heart that everything was done for her and she wasn't just discarded as an inconvenience.

Jenna in her old bed and with all her hair.

Jenna in her NEW bed with her sassy new 'do.

Voldemort didn't keep up with Jenna's grooming so she was covered in mats. We shaved her down at work and then Robert and I took her to PetSmart to smooth out the cut and bathe her. She kinda looks like a beagle but you can tell she loves having less hair!

Of course, she wasn't thrilled with it right away... It took a little getting used to.

This is Jenna in the new bed we bought for Funk to replace the bed Jenna overtook. He sleeps on the couch.

Jenna is a born beggar and therefore fits in seamlessly with the boys.

The other tech that watched Jenna bought her a fabulous Halloween ensemble! Unfortunately, J is just a little too plump for a perfect fit so it had to be returned. I don't think she misses it.

A Peek Into the Clinic

The Web site for my clinic is woefully out of date. And until I bite the bullet and make my blog private (which I'm loathe to do but if I don't, I won't be able to vent at all! ;o) ), all I will say on the subject is that we had new photos taken last week. I'm not sure when the site will be changed or which pictures will be used but I snagged a few so you could get a tiny peek of some of the people with whom I work.

From L to R: Cassie, me, Bethany, and Karolina. Yes, I'm the only one who opted to wear a print scrub top but I don't care! I contemplated wearing a solid color (though I only own 2) top but felt it just wouldn't hold true to my personality so Doodle Cats it was. And I like it.

Here, Dr. Kestler, Bethany and I are giving Sherman (one of the practice owner's dogs and the cutest little Pom/Cairn Terrier mix you'll ever see!) an ultrasound. Aren't we smart?!

If you look reeeeeeally closely you can see Sherman's bladder on the screen. We use ultrasounds to perform cystocenteses, which is a lot nicer than doing blind sticks.

This is the my bio photo, which will be used only if the practice manager decides to post bios for the techs. My gut says she won't so this will probably be the only place you'll see it! The dog is Jasmine, another of the practice owner's dogs. She did very well. :o) I had the option of bringing in Linguini or Funk but somehow I just didn't think that would've worked out so well...

Today, I Liked My Job

Today was a very good day at work - the type of day that makes me happy I sucked it up and made the change. So I thought I'd share.

I was supposed to work at reception all day today (bleh) but upon clocking in Stephs hurriedly told me I was working in the back instead, as Bethany had called in sick. I was stoked; I'd much rather work in the back anyway but today there was a particular surgery I wanted to see and now I was going to be able to! Plus, I much prefer being busy, busy, busy and with one person down, I was actually going to get to do tech stuff (instead of being the new person who has to do the more peripheral stuff). I got to monitor anesthesia on the first procedure and got to watch a bit of the surgery I was interested in*, a chinchilla came in (and you KNOW how much I love chinchillas!!!) and I got to help out with its exam, and I got to x-ray a guinea pig. It was awesome! :o) I had to work an extra 90 minutes past the end of my shift and I didn't really care. I may still be in the honeymoon phase of my job but even if that's the case, it's nice to have days on the job that make you feel so fulfilled.

And because I didn't get to take any pictures of the chinchilla, here are some other photos of animals from the clinic. And a picture of me holding my first chinchilla while interning at MVVC. ;o)

Today's chin was only my second so I expect to squee every time I see one for quite some time to come.

I was almost as excited for this guy, a very handsome panther chameleon. LOVE. He bit me and pooped on me while I restrained him and it was totally worth it.

This little guy is just one of the many Petco bearded dragons. He's enjoying his heat lamp. (Never, ever, ever under any circumstances buy an animal from Petco.)

These are two of our three clinic cats, Logan (male, top) and Trinity (female). They're just hangin' out in the break room. They're both super sweet and friendly and I spend lots of time pestering them.

And THIS is Lola, the third clinic kitty. She's my favorite because she's a huge purr machine and she looooves love and...

she makes biscuits on your neck!!!!!!!!! Or your arm. Or your chest. But mostly your neck. (She's declawed up front, don't worry.) She's my surrogate cat since Linguini sucks so badly. We're BFFs.

* The surgery was a partial ear amputation. It sounds gross, I know, but amputations always kind of fascinate me and I was indeed fascinated. I almost took a picture of the sutured ear but figured I would be the only person who found it cool so decided against it. You're welcome.

This Is Not "Pet the Kitty"

UPDATE: Okay, you knew I had to tweak it a bit because that one is formatted slightly wonkily. So here's a more streamlined version:

I know lots of people are tired of this particular meme but I really liked the one I saw for vet techs:

I know I'm not yet an officially registered tech but even with my small amount of experience I find this to to true, especially the first line. :o) Which is, I think, why Dr. Peter's unofficial slogan for the VT program is "This is not 'pet the kitty.'" And boy is it NOT. That would be way more fun. And less stressful.

First Post of the New School Year

Yikes. It's been a looooong time since I've posted anything. I'm sorry. And I hate trotting out the same ol' tired school excuse every single time but I swear it's the truth every single time! This quarter especially. I have been so buried underneath schoolwork and clinic hours that I can't see daylight most of the time. Robert can back me up on this. So can Funk - his play times have been greatly diminished this quarter and he is the saddest looking thing at about 9 o'clock every night, it's pathetic. I had good intentions in the beginning, too! Here's (the beginning of) a post I wrote back on October 9th: 


Wow. The first two weeks of classes have already flown by and I haven't posted a thing about them. I've actually gotten do to a couple cool things, too, so before I let too much time slip by, I want to update you all on just what kinds of things are occupying my time.

• First off, I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE my classes this quarter. It's stressing me out on many levels. Mainly because the classes are completely dry and boring and do not fall within my range of interests so it makes it difficult to focus or retain much of the information. Secondly, it's just a massive course load. This quarter is the most units I'll take (18) during the course of the program and that, combined with my internship hour quota, leaves me with little spare time. And lastly, because many of my fellow students are psyched that, as seniors, we've reached the point in our curriculum that's most applicable to our everyday lives in the clinic. So even though they agree that the chemistry of hematology (yuck) and the physics of radiography (double yuck!) are dry, they're excited that they're learning things they can apply to their time spent at their internship sites. I don't really have that 'glass half full' kind of outlook on life so not only am I annoyed at the boring class lectures and reading assignments, I'm down on myself for not being more interested or excited about things like other people. I really don't think there's a more neurotic or tightly-wound person out there. 

• This last week brought some sadness to the program, as one of our two sheep had to be euthanized on Thursday. Theodore had been acting a little off the past couple of weeks - eating less, separating himself from the rest of the guys in the pasture - so Dr. Mac had Dr. Bellamy come and take a look. They decided he was most likely suffering from pneumonia and put him on antibiotics. Things did not improve, however, and eventually Theo just stopped eating altogether. I had a Clin Path lab on Thursday afternoon so some of Theo's blood was drawn and Ms. D and Ms. Terry performed a bunch of different analyses, showing us what they were doing along the way. Sadly, the results indicated that Theo was in end-stage renal failure and the decision was made to euthanize him right away. Dr. Mac allowed any interested students to stay and watch, which I did. I know that seems like an odd decision but one of my weaknesses is (surprise) keeping my composure during euthanasia procedures at the clinic. I don't want to fall apart in front of clients so I viewed as an opportunity to try and work on keeping it together when I want to fall to pieces. I was a complete failure, of course, but at least Theo had some friendly faces around when he left us. The poor guy was just miserable and it showed; he was just skin and bones under his woolly coat and his eyes were almost completely dilated. And though I'm sure it sounds very strange, once he was gone, we were able to look more closely at his feet and the inside of his mouth, which was really quite interesting. (Sheep have large papillae on the insides of their cheek, which are absolutely fascinating. I couldn't find a good photo or I would have included one. Also, and this may creep you out, but apparently renal failure gives an animal a very distinct odor within their mouth and we were all able to smell that, too.) Alvin seems lost without his shier friend and the pasture seems so empty now with no Bonnie and no Theodore. :o(  It was very sad to say goodbye but I'm happy he's no longer suffering and even in death he helped us learn something new, so thank you, Theo. You will be missed.

 

• On a lighter note, I have switched clinics and am now interning just 2.3 short miles from my house. Which is NICE. And the people at the clinic seem very nice, too - the head tech has been there 10 years and is very comfortable with interns from the greenest of the green to those with a little more experience. The remaining three techs have also been welcoming, making sure to include me in interesting procedures or asking me what kinds of things I'd like to learn. Even one of the DVMs made a point of pulling me aside and asking me to check out some specimens under the microscope. That never happened at my old clinic so I am cautiously excited. This clinic is just a standard day practice, though, (as opposed to an urgent care hospital, which is what my old clinic was) so things definitely go at a much slower pace. And there are less out-of-the-ordinary cases, which means I'm a little worried that will pose a problem insofar as getting certain things checked off my skills list. But I'm trying not to stress about it too much. Trying.

• Unfortunately, my first week at the clinic tested my 'keep it together' face even before Theo's death. A call came in just before closing one day from a woman whose dog was seizing in the car. Since we were the closest clinic, she wanted to bring him in. Everything was set up  and everyone was ready when she arrived but, sadly, her dog had already died - he'd suffered major cardiac arrest and there was nothing to be done. He was a four-year-old Boxer and, unfortunately, that breed is fraught with health issues, heart abnormalities and cancer chief among them. As sad as I am to see the animal and its devastated family, I have to say that the hardest part of the whole thing for me is when the animal is put in a plastic bag and placed in the freezer. I know it's what has to be done and I know that's what happens in human medicine, too, but it just seems so terribly impersonal that it's hard for me to watch. I made myself participate, though, because it's the reality and the more I immerse myself, the better tech I'll be.

• The second week of clinic brought much more interesting things.

See there? I got past the complaining and all the steam apparently ran out. :o/  And do I remember what else I wanted to say? Not so much. Now how will Future Lauren know what interesting things happened to 2011 Lauren?! Way to go, Current Lauren. You're screwing it up for everyone. 

First Year in Review

As I sat on the couch, watching Friends (there's a marathon of 'best of' episodes every night this week on Nick@Nite) and feeling at loose ends, I decided I would finally try tackling a VT recap post. Part of what I like about blogging is that it serves as a sort of record of fun and important life events; as such, I should have been posting about my adventures in school and the clinic as they happened. Such posting would have painted a nuanced picture of my life as a vet tech student that I could look back on with appreciation as an older person. As it stands now I'll have one big spotty post that doesn't do justice to the blood, sweat, tears, stress, nausea, excitement and accomplishment that went into the first year of school. I guess that's better than nothing, though, so I'll scrape the corners of my brain and try to assemble a coherent, informative post that covers the stuff I haven't already touched on in earlier posts.

First up, grades. This was the easiest thing to assemble so it gets to go first. :o) Not mind-blowingly awesome but not too shabby, either. I hope I can do as well in the coming year.

I guess I'll tackle the clinic next, since it's the toughest to encapsulate and if I don't do it now, I'll just babble on until the post is 18 pages long. You all know me: I hate change and stress out about things way before they start so you can imagine all of the hand-wringing and whatnot going on at Casa de McCauley in the days leading up to my first day at the clinic. Well, that behavior pretty much followed me through the first couple weeks (at least), albeit to a lesser degree, because I like the knowable and clinic work is intrinsically unknowable. You just never know what is going to happen on a day-to-day basis and I HATE that. A lot. That's the stupid thing about me - it's not that the work is too hard. It's the fact that I have no idea what is going to happen that causes my anxiety to kick up to 1000 and then I can't think clearly. I make the simplest tasks exponentially more difficult because I literally cannot think past the fog that invades my brain when I'm stressed. It's completely ridiculous.

My supervisor didn't exactly help my nerves when he told me on two separate occasions that the clinic would no longer be accepting first-year students; they wanted 'more experienced hands only.' I asked if there was anything specific being done (not just by me but by the other two first-year interns) so that I could, y'know, stop doing that. Rof assured me there was no particular incident that sparked the clinic to issue such a mandate but I didn't really believe him and was freaked out even more after that. The practice manager and doctors weren't too warm and fuzzy toward the interns (and neither were the other veterinary assistants, for that matter) but I came to discover that my fellow Foothill Firsties were having similar receptions at their clinics, so I tried not to let it bother me too much. And Rof was actually a good instructor for all my mental-ness; after a while he could tell that I was a very competent and detail-oriented person who was hindered by a tendency to become "a fly on the wall." So he pushed me to jump in and forced me to participate when I would otherwise let my fellow interns do things for me. But he was friendly and did so in a non-threatening way so I wasn't constantly running to the bathroom and crying. :o)  (He actually never made me cry at all. I know that sounds like a very sad statement to make sound like an accomplishment but with me, it is!) 

My internship course required me to spend 15 hours per week in the clinic and I lucked out with my choice of clinic because a lot of my friends basically did housekeeping duties for most of their hours. Rof pretty much let me jump right in from the get-go, so while I did do my fair share of laundry and restocking supplies, I also got to help restrain, administer medications to both patients and boarding animals, perform nail trims and 9-point exams, clean and wrap surgical instruments, observe surgical and dental procedures and even monitor anesthesia (with supervision, of course). I did lots of blood draws, administered lots of subcutaneous (SQ) fluids and was even working in the rooms by the end of the quarter. My clinic also has its own mini lab on-site so I got to perform blood analysis every so often, too. Everything scared me half to death most of the time but I took copious notes and muddled through. There was even the odd day when I would come home and excitedly tell Robert about something I'd seen or done. Those days were his favorite.

There are two stories that stick out in my mind with regard to my time at the clinic and I have actually already done a little write-up on them both (for a class assignment). They're not long and they're not the best samples of my writing ability but if you're interested, they do give a little peek into what kinds of things I encountered as an intern.

I witnessed my first euthanasia today (in just my second week at the clinic) and it was hard. I have never had to put any of my own pets down; Ziggy, my only childhood pet (a Cocker Spaniel), was put to sleep while I was away at college so I was not present for the event. When I was asked if I wanted to assist with retrieving the dog from the room, my immediate reaction was to say ‘no’ but I knew I was going to have to do it at some point so I let out a teeny, tiny ‘yes.’ It was awful; the entire family was in the room and the three young children were literally lying across the dog on the floor, crying, when we entered.  It took every ounce of willpower I had not to burst into tears at the sight of the weeping children.  We put the dog on the stretcher and took it into the back; the family didn’t want to be present and part of me thought that was selfish while the other part understood. Molly was given a handful of wet food before the catheter was placed and just like that, she was gone. I petted her as much and as long as I could, then I had to excuse myself and cried in the utility closet. Watching her die was hard enough but the sight of the techs basically dumping her body into a bag and carting her off to the freezer was just too much. I know that’s what has to be done and I know it will (unfortunately) be commonplace soon enough but the first one was tough to take. It really makes me question if I have the personality to succeed in this profession.

____________________

Good grief! Another sad one today. When I came in this morning I was excited to see that Savannah’s cage was empty – I assumed she’d gone home as planned. But as it turned out she’d taken a turn for the worse yesterday and had to be euthanized. I am heartbroken. Savannah had come in on Tuesday with a GI obstruction. She’d had two surgeries for the same condition in the past but the owners went ahead and had the doctors perform a third. Almost a pound of stuffed toys were removed from her abdomen! It was a long surgery and I was somewhat perplexed when the owners then wanted her to have a prophy performed on top of all she’d had done. Karen was in charge of her anesthetic recovery but over the next couple days I helped with her care. I coaxed her out for walks and spent a lot of time cleaning her and her cage, as she suffered from uncontrollable bowels for quite some time after the procedure. She always seemed depressed and a couple of times had a hard time getting out of her cage. She tried to walk on the tops of her paws, which made me nervous that she’d suffered some neurological damage while under anesthesia. After a few minutes we’d be able to right her, though, so I was optimistic that she’d be all right. When I left my shift on Friday night she seemed so much better – she was finally having firmer bowel movements and was eating more normally. She hadn’t thrown up for a day so the doctor said Savannah would likely get to go home sometime over the weekend. (Her owners had come to visit her several times over the past few days, which I thought was awesome.) Earlier I had overheard the vet talking to my supervisor and saying that these kinds of procedures often developed complications on the third or fourth day but I was willfully naïve and assumed Savannah would be fine. But she started bleeding internally on Saturday afternoon and nothing further could be done. I’m glad she’s not suffering but was still caught off guard by her passing. This was a sad Sunday indeed.

I know both of those were major bummers of stories but I got to see some cool stuff, too, I promise! I got to see a cat tooth extraction that was pretty great but you probably wouldn't be as interested in gum-slicing and tooth chiseling... ;o)

Yikes. Even with editing this post has amounted to quite a bit, hasn't it? I suppose I will lop it off here, then; I think you guys have a fair idea of how my actual classes went. School has its own stressors and the like but book learning really can't prepare you for real world experience. We are required to perform more and more complex duties with each successive quarter so I have a feeling I will be nauseous for the next 9 months. Actually, if I make it past the fall (Clinical Pathology and Radiology) and winter (Anesthesia - it scares the bejesus out of me already) quarters, I think I'll be in the clear. I hope.

Occupational Hazards

Remember this post? The one about how it's not IF you get scratched/bitten/mauled/deformed in the vet world, it's WHEN? Well, my answer came on June 12th when a very angry cat nailed me and left his claw in my arm. Yes, I said in my arm. Jub Jub didn't like me from the start - he hissed at me every single time I walked by his cage. Both the doctor and my supervisor (Rof) agreed that Jub Jub could sense my distrust of cats and I'm sure that's true but what was (am) I supposed to do to remedy that? When, as a student and an intern, you are beaten over the head with tales of cat bites leading to nasty and long-lasting infections or worse! I'm not a huge cat person anyway (sorry, Gweenz) but I definitely have the fear of God in me with regard to cat teeth and claws. So, since I am so hesitant to tangle with felines, it only follows that Rof takes every opportunity to make me handle them. I understand his logic but me no likes. And so it was that I was tasked with taking Jub Jub from his cage and placing him in his carrier. Jub Jub did not want to leave his cage and he really didn't want to get in his carrier. Rof wound up taking over, using a giant towel, and I wound up with a claw in my arm. See?

Jub Jub also left a nice, big scratch from my middle finger knuckle past my wrist and two puncture holes in my forearm. I tried to take a photo but it just did not turn out well so I've whipped up an artist's rendering of my injuries:

I have a bunch of bruises on my arm from other mishaps with both animals and cage doors and I can assure you - and Robert and my parents can attest to this - my right arm really did look like this for quite a while. I receive most of my bruises from dogs that don't want to be restrained but I also seem to run into doors and locks a LOT at the clinic. It's pretty annoying. I've also been nipped by two dogs but neither broke the skin so that's good. As much as I was distressed at my Jub Jub injuries, I was extremely happy he didn't bite me. Because even with just a scratch, I had to run my arm under hot water and squeeze the puncture holes to get my wounds to bleed as much as possible. Then I got a thorough scrubbing with soap and then alcohol. It was delightful.

Of course, it's not just clinic animals that can hurt you; I was recently disfigured by our horned sheep, Alvin. A little backstory: For past couple months, we've been asked to modify our contact with Alvin because he's become too aggressive. First, we had to stop petting him. Then we weren't allowed to feed him his daily allowance of oats. Then we weren't allowed to feed any of the ruminants oats because "humans need to be associated with nothing good." I know some students didn't but I followed the new rules, even though I had never had any sort of problem with Alvin. He'd never shown any dominant behavior while I worked with him so I was careful but not afraid. That all changed last Tuesday when I tried to feed Charcey and Alvin decided he really wanted some of her feed. He'd never expressed interest in her food before but I assume he was feeling oat-deprived and wanted some grainy goodness. Anyway, Alvin wouldn't get out of Charcey's stall and Charcey was hungry and pissed that Alvin was keeping her from getting her food. So I had an angry sheep and an angry horse on my hands. Fun! I tried all of the "approved" methods for moving Alvin - shooing him away with a hand towel and then a broom - before I just grabbed him by the horns and pulled him out of the stall, (locking Charcey in behind me). Was this the best option? At the time, I thought yes. I didn't want to get trampled by Charcey and Alvin was making moves to butt me so I just wanted to get him out of there. In the end, however, I didn't avoid the butting as Alvin was pissed he no longer had access to the Equine Senior Delight - he turned and very deliberately nailed me in the left shin with his horns. These horns.

Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, HURT like a mofo. That is to say a lot. A lot a lot. I was first completely bumfuzzled, then a little hurt that Alvin, previously a nice guy, had turned on me. Then I was pissed. Alvin was and will forever remain (excuse my language) on my shit list.

Photos of bruises just don't come out well but I tried. I think Robert will agree that the following pictures just don't do it justice. And it's not a bruise, actually - it's a hematoma. (There are actually two but the upper one is much smaller.) Cause it's big and knobby and suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuper tender. It's a week-and-a-half later and my leg is still too sore to lay on. It's super fun at the clinic when dogs run into it, too. Hrmph. So when you see me wearing shorts this summer and you wonder at the big purple lump on my leg, that's it.

 

The Jewel Kitties

We have some adorable kittens available for adoption at my clinic... They were just dumped on our doorstep and we think they were born the first week of May. If you're interested or you know anyone who might be, lemme know - as you can imagine, they're very good at being handled!

These two are the cuddle bugs. :o)

This is Emerald, the only girl of the bunch.