Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Everybody Loves a Cairn Terrier

I got to sleep in today! It was great, especially because I stayed up until 11:00 watching White Oleander—it might be my new favorite movie. Well, one of them. D.R got back from Olney for his lunch break at 12:15, and he dropped me off at the office at 12:30. The roads are getting progressively more disgusting—today it rained and then snowed, and tonight it’s supposed to freeze. Great. Anyway, as soon as I got in, things got going—Mandy (a woman who used to work there and is the daughter of Martha Ralston who owns the place and is the half-sister of Christie) had brought in Charles, her Cairn Terrier. He was limping, and seemed to have hurt his left foreleg paw, so Christie had to examine it—but Charles hates having his paws touched. I mean really hates it. Mandy held his head while Christie did it, and he made the most horrible sounds! It was this crazy tribal gurgling mixed with straight up “I’ll tear your leg off” growling. But he’s actually a really nice dog. All throughout his cacophony, his sister, Gladys (owned by Martha, as is Fergus, Charles’ brother) was barking her head off because she thought we were killing Charles. After all of that we gave him some fluids. I’m not really sure why; I guess to keep him hydrated—but the fluids had to go in under his skin. So Martha held an I.V bag up and Christie pinched a bunch of his skin and put the needle in, but he kept jumping around and the needle came out a few times and the stuff squirted everywhere…but eventually we got it in. 

Then a really cute widdle puggy-wuggy came in with a benign tumor on his cute widdle facey-wacey (I’m sorry. I just can’t speak normally when I see a pug, or even talk about them. They induce excessive baby talk that I can’t control). Christie and Sandra told the cute little old couple (yeah, everything was cute today) that the tumor was benign and that “these things usually go away on their own,” and Christie said she’d be happy to remove it, but anesthesia always poses some risk, and it would be purely cosmetic. The cute old people decided to let it go for a month.

            After they left, there was a lull in the action while everyone did some paperwork. I checked in all the cages and read all the charts to see what everyone was in for. A cat that had come in yesterday after I had left had a big cone on his head to prevent him from pulling out a little draining device on its leg. The owner thought he might have rabies since he wasn’t vaccinated and something bit him, so after Christie drained his abscessed leg she put him in quarantine. So he’ll be in that cage until next week, poor guy. There was a Shitzu named Roxy in for a dental cleaning (Christie’s fiancé’s uncle’s dog—did I mention how much I love small towns?), a huge beautiful Airedale named Arlen in to be neutered, a stray cat with an extreme case of ear mites complete with hematomas, and Otis, a silky terrier with awful teeth.

Otis went first because his incessant barking was driving everyone insane and we really wanted to sedate him. Apparently his owners had taken him to a vet because their groomer said his teeth were really bad, but the vet said his teeth were fine and that he didn’t need a dental at all. That vet needs to go back to vet school. Poor Otis had Stage 2 “Something I can’t pronounce that starts with a P and looks really nasty.” Basically his teeth were covered in tarter and some had rotted clean through. We had to pull out eight of his teeth. It was actually way bloodier than the surgeries from yesterday. I got to put on gloves and hold his mouth open so Christie could get the back molars. Poor Otis! We were all astonished that the other vet said he didn’t need a cleaning, and Sandra and Christie shed some light on veterinary politics. Hearing them talk about how “you never want to be the vet that talks about other vets to your clients” and “it’s okay to talk amongst your colleagues about the dumb vets who need more schooling, but never do it in front of clients,” made me want to be a vet right now! So badly! I want colleagues! And a scalpel! I am so destined to be a vet. All the blood and guts and weird noises and annoying clients and traumatizing car accident victims—I want it all! Weeeeeee!!

Christie is so nice, and she told Carolyn she loves me! Yay! And she explains so much to me, and while she’s explaining she’ll be like, “Do you know what ­­­_____ is? Of course you know what ­­­_____ is, you’re so smart!” It is so great.

So after Otis came Roxy. Her teeth were basically perfect since she’s only a year old, but her owners apparently said “her ass-breath is worse than usual,” and Christie really emphasizes dental (“I’m crazy about clean teeth!”), so she gave them a thorough cleaning anyway. And that was the day! Carolyn came just before we were going to start on Arlen, and I didn’t want her to have to wait or have to come back into town since the roads are so bad, so I left early. We got home and made some stir-fry for dinner. The democratic debate is on in 20 minutes, and we’re gonna watch it!

I can’t for tomorrow! Someone’s cat wasn’t spayed and it got outside and got pregnant, so Christie is performing an abortion! She said she’s done quite a few and she was like, “Yeah, I’ve got to watch out for those pro-life people—they might send me hate mail!” So that will be interesting. The owner thought she might have just gotten worms at first because of how big her belly was getting, so she gave her de-wormer. Martha said if she gave them one kind of de-wormer, the babies would already be dead, but the kind most people use wouldn’t kill them. I think it’ll be interesting to watch, but also a bit sad. Spaying the cat will make her live longer, but the babies will never get to live. Oh well, what do they know, they’re just embryos, right? Ah, moral ambiguity. We’ll see how things go tomorrow!



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