After being sprayed down with all manner of anti-ringworm sprays, and after exhibiting some alarming symptoms of allergies, including hives, I was taken away from the kittens (including my favourite, electro-kitty, who looked as though it had taken its curiosity one step too close to a power socket) and shunted over to the dog side of town.
Much better. No sneezing...mild requirement to fend off over-friendly dogs, but there you go. There were a number of large dogs who were allowed free rein over the premises, including Skippy, who had distemper when young, and as a result was "a few sandwiches short of a picnic". Quite adorable, with an odd, straight-legged walk, but a generally happy disposition and eagerness to be paid attention to.Another favourite was Eddie, a Rhodesian Ridgeback 
who was smitten with one of the clinic workers, to the extent that if you needed to find this particular person, all you had to do was look where Eddie was pointing. Eddie was gorgeous, and friendly, and in the morning would jump up to put his paws on my shoulders and breathe in my face. He was also well-behaved enough to be the only "house dog" allowed in the clinic itself (otherwise he would sit outside and wait for his friend to come out).
who was smitten with one of the clinic workers, to the extent that if you needed to find this particular person, all you had to do was look where Eddie was pointing. Eddie was gorgeous, and friendly, and in the morning would jump up to put his paws on my shoulders and breathe in my face. He was also well-behaved enough to be the only "house dog" allowed in the clinic itself (otherwise he would sit outside and wait for his friend to come out).Meanwhile I spent a while outside in the kennels, feeding and watering and generally trying to get in and out of each enclosure with all my limbs in tact, and without letting any of the (amazingly strong) dogs out. Never thought I'd stand a chance against a massive German Shepherd, but I grabbed the scruff of its neck and heaved, and somehow we ended up with me outside and it inside. Phew!
One of my favourite sections was the "hospital" which housed a few of the dogs who were sick, but not so much that they needed constant supervision. The best part about this was taking them for their walks -- in particular I remember a teeny, tiny, wriggly little brown thing, called Archie, who was so eager and friendly that it was hard not to scoop him up every time I visited. Of course he did pose a problem when it was time for me to leave. Big heavy gate, tiny, slippery dog... There were two black labrador pups there, one of whom was suffering from mange, and very timid. Had to carry that one to the park and try to encourage it to walk. It did, but only when my back was turned, and in the opposite direction. The other pup was gorgeous. Bright and friendly -- all he wanted was to play, and who was I to resist?
The other place I hung out was in the clinic. Poked my head in there at the start of my stint, and 
got hooked on chatting to all the poor sick puppies housed there. I also got to look in on some surgeries -- many sterilisations, a cat tail amputation (Paris, pictured, who bit her own tail off to the extent that the vet had to dock it completely) and a dog whose ears had to be cut off. It wasn't always pleasant, and in some cases it was really sad, like when the dog showed up whose owner had chopped off its front leg with a machete. Or the cat that had to be put down due to feline AIDS. But sometimes there were success stories. Like the teeny little Siberian Husky pup, who came in very sick, and wasn't eating. After a blood transfusion (with a massive bull terrier cross) it perked right up, much to the chagrin of everyone in the clinic. Ever heard a husky pup howl? It's sort of a cross between a cat, a lamb and a baby, all of which sound as though
they're being skinned alive. So it fell to me to take the little bundle out of its cage at these times and cuddle it -- it would look up with its little wibbly eyes and fall completely silent -- entirely happy for someone just to love it. And I fell in love in about two seconds.
got hooked on chatting to all the poor sick puppies housed there. I also got to look in on some surgeries -- many sterilisations, a cat tail amputation (Paris, pictured, who bit her own tail off to the extent that the vet had to dock it completely) and a dog whose ears had to be cut off. It wasn't always pleasant, and in some cases it was really sad, like when the dog showed up whose owner had chopped off its front leg with a machete. Or the cat that had to be put down due to feline AIDS. But sometimes there were success stories. Like the teeny little Siberian Husky pup, who came in very sick, and wasn't eating. After a blood transfusion (with a massive bull terrier cross) it perked right up, much to the chagrin of everyone in the clinic. Ever heard a husky pup howl? It's sort of a cross between a cat, a lamb and a baby, all of which sound as though
they're being skinned alive. So it fell to me to take the little bundle out of its cage at these times and cuddle it -- it would look up with its little wibbly eyes and fall completely silent -- entirely happy for someone just to love it. And I fell in love in about two seconds.A woodgy-woodgy-woo.
2 comments:
Clearly calling an animal 'Paris' is not going to set it up to win the Cleverlympics.
Actually, I worked at a vet for a while who had to amputate a cat's tail for the exact same reason: the cat simply hated its tail and bit it all the time, so they took it off and the cat was fine. Maybe it thought it was a people.
Did you ever have to give meds to the animals in the kennels?
I had to do pills-in-the-food, which of course I managed to screw up at first by hiding the pills and rendering us unable to tell which lump of chow was for which doggy. But that was pretty much it, though I also got to fill up syringes for the guy doing the rabies vaccinations. Woo!
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