A day in Room 165
How drained I feel. I've just stabbed a 10yr old poodle for the 2nd time. I had to do it. I hate those words "I had to do it". It means something so icky when used in this room. In this case the poodle is aggressive though she hasn't actually tried to bite me yet I can see her considering it behind those eyes. She stumbles, the tranq is taking effect. Hopefully I go enough into her that she'll go down soon and this nightmare for her and me both will be over.
Earlier I had to put down a 3 month old puppy (who weighed almost 40 lbs he would have been a monster when grown). Why did I have to do it? Because the dog had an aggressive history of snapping at people. Never mind that when you sit dodwn next to him he crawls right into your lap.
Those are the hardest: when they sit in your lap and give you puppy kisses even as you kill them. Its no wonder that I'm getting burned out though I can't admit it to my boss. The whole reason I was never trained was because he thought I couldn't handle it. If he sees me crying for a second day in a row he'll probably have me back to just cleaning cages.
The poodle, defiant to th elast bites me even as I withdraw the needle from the vein. There are already four more dogs coming in, the anser is "no" and they haven't even gotten here yet. I can't even get up a good righteous anger at the owners of these dogs because more and more I see teary-eyes owners who are down to their last resort.
Like yesterday.
A 4 yr old pomeranian who weighted at least 35 pounds (all fat) was growing over protective of his female owner. He didn't like men in general and the owner's boyfriend had to get eleven stitches in his hand in their last encounter. I carried him back, held off the for the euth tech, held him as he went. I then bundled up his body first in a plastic bag and then a blanket and carried him back up to his owner. I followed her to the car and gently laid him in the backseat. I offered my condolensces even as my coworker handed the owner the collar and leash.
I feel like Lady Macbeth. All day I have caught myself meticulously checking my hands for blood though it has never bothered me before. I wash my hands constantly and I caught myself rubbing my right hand with my left as though trying to erase something that I knew wasn't there.
"You have blood on your hands" Its a line from one of my favorite comedies but it repeats over and over again in my mind.
The four dogs come in and they are horribly emaciated and dont' even flinch as I administer the tranqualizer.
There are two small beams of sunlight in this day. The first is our newbie officer who brought in the dogs and held them and whistled lullabies to them as they fell asleep. The second was a small puppy that we originally feral. He was huddled in the back of his cage hiding from the world. Once we got him out and petted him a bit all of a sudden the switch flipped. His tail flung into motion, his tongue licked everything in sight and he held out his paws to be passed from hand to hand. The other staff with me knew how my day had gone and let me have the lion's share of puppy hugging.
And now I'm home and done and ready to sleep.
Earlier I had to put down a 3 month old puppy (who weighed almost 40 lbs he would have been a monster when grown). Why did I have to do it? Because the dog had an aggressive history of snapping at people. Never mind that when you sit dodwn next to him he crawls right into your lap.
Those are the hardest: when they sit in your lap and give you puppy kisses even as you kill them. Its no wonder that I'm getting burned out though I can't admit it to my boss. The whole reason I was never trained was because he thought I couldn't handle it. If he sees me crying for a second day in a row he'll probably have me back to just cleaning cages.
The poodle, defiant to th elast bites me even as I withdraw the needle from the vein. There are already four more dogs coming in, the anser is "no" and they haven't even gotten here yet. I can't even get up a good righteous anger at the owners of these dogs because more and more I see teary-eyes owners who are down to their last resort.
Like yesterday.
A 4 yr old pomeranian who weighted at least 35 pounds (all fat) was growing over protective of his female owner. He didn't like men in general and the owner's boyfriend had to get eleven stitches in his hand in their last encounter. I carried him back, held off the for the euth tech, held him as he went. I then bundled up his body first in a plastic bag and then a blanket and carried him back up to his owner. I followed her to the car and gently laid him in the backseat. I offered my condolensces even as my coworker handed the owner the collar and leash.
I feel like Lady Macbeth. All day I have caught myself meticulously checking my hands for blood though it has never bothered me before. I wash my hands constantly and I caught myself rubbing my right hand with my left as though trying to erase something that I knew wasn't there.
"You have blood on your hands" Its a line from one of my favorite comedies but it repeats over and over again in my mind.
The four dogs come in and they are horribly emaciated and dont' even flinch as I administer the tranqualizer.
There are two small beams of sunlight in this day. The first is our newbie officer who brought in the dogs and held them and whistled lullabies to them as they fell asleep. The second was a small puppy that we originally feral. He was huddled in the back of his cage hiding from the world. Once we got him out and petted him a bit all of a sudden the switch flipped. His tail flung into motion, his tongue licked everything in sight and he held out his paws to be passed from hand to hand. The other staff with me knew how my day had gone and let me have the lion's share of puppy hugging.
And now I'm home and done and ready to sleep.