Drove from Delaware to Oklahoma over the last 36 hours. Was supposed to take about 23.5 hours; did the drive in about 18. Hell yeah. Killed a lot of bugs.
Spent the night in on the north side of St. Louis with some cool kids. We talked about late 90’s early 00’s screamo and punk for awhile. It was strange. They made me some fried rice and we walked to a corner store for beer. They were interesting and had some radical ideals.
Got to my house for the next who-knows period of time and have been settling in. Roommate is friendly.
I can’t believe this shit. Why is my life like this? I think I like it like this.
I don’t like to be tied down, I don’t want to get stagnant. At least that is what I’ve determined looking back on my actions.
Paradoxically, I want stability. I want to be comfortable, content. And I ruin it. Maybe not deliberately, but I do.
And now I feel like I found some sort of niche that I could have genuinely enjoyed, and fuck. I want to be better.
Oh well, here goes a couple weeks of bliss and a few years of wandering. See ya’ll on the other side, hopefully.
There are a few things currently on my mind.
One, when a cat sleeps with a paw covering his eyes to block the sunlight it ranks in the top ten of adorable things in the world.
Two, what in the world?
Three, I am a fortunate person.
Today at work an older dog came in to be put down. He wasn’t that old. He seemed pretty jovial despite his problems. I guess there comes a point for some people when the balance of their pets poor quality of life in tandem with yielding lower quality of their own personal life becomes too great and it is just too much to bear. For some the threshold is less than others, bordering on stupidity. I guess that goes both ways, actually.
So, the doctor I primarily work with mentioned her exemplary track record when it comes to how few euthanasias she faces in a given month. She was at an absurdly low number for the year to date. She also mentioned, in reference to a unique case seen earlier in the day that isn’t very common, that we would come to see two more in the next week or so. Because, apparently, that’s just how it is.
She was right about the three thing, too. Just wrong about what was coming in three.
And then a sweet, older couple came in. They had adopted a young stray that had recently had a litter of kittens that they also found homes for. They were ready and willing to do everything under the sun to make it as safe and healthy as possible. Any diagnostics we suggested, any vaccinations, anything. Let’s do it. And then we tested it for FIV. Positive. Fuck. They were actually familiar with the disease and its process after their previous cat had and subsequently passed because of it. They just refused to experience having a cat again living and succumbing to FIV. Understandable. So, they opted to euthanize.
And I’m not even going to talk about number three.
Often times we dose small or young dogs with a dose of injectable diphenhydramine (Benadryl) before vaccinations to help curb any chances of reactions. If an owner is up for it and wants to save some cash we tell them how to dose it out at home with Children’s liquid Benadryl before coming in.
I asked this guy with this adorable little black and brown mutt puppy in for vaccines this morning if he had given Benadryl already to this puppy. He tells me no, he didn’t have any. He didn’t have any Tylenol either. So he gave it some Advil (Ibuprofen). Are you fucking kidding me? I had to resist the urge to tell him how stupid I thought he was at that moment. Actually, he conferred with his wife prior to giving it. The two of them, together, decided that the best plan of action was to just go ahead and give some Advil. I mean, hey, they’re both pink liquids, right?
When I checked his record he had apparently given a dose of Claritin to the puppy before the last visit also because he couldn’t find any Benadryl at home. He has a history of being this stupid and being told not to do this sort of thing.
So we spent a couple of hours forcing the puppy to vomit, shoving activated charcoal down it’s throat, getting blood and urine samples, catheterizing it. It’s not even five pounds. It’s fucking adorable. And tomorrow it might be pissing blood and dying of kidney failure.
On the plus side, I got to assist on a spay of a 110 pound Great Dane. I fell in love with her. Two more years.
