Alrighty folks, time to spread the holiday cheer and spend time with the parental units. In order to do so - at least for me - means packing up and flying half way across the country. Lucky me, I'm accident prone. So, what happened this time? Let me give some background on this one.
For some reason the apartment complex I live in decided that moulding around the walls at waist level was a good idea. Now, this is not your thin moulding that is usually used along the ceilings, but instead juts out from the wall about two to three inches. I was, in preparation of packing the evening before leaving for the airport, shifting laundry. Somehow, I managed to misjudge the distance between the corner of the moulding and my eyeball, the result being a nice shiner around my right eye. Lucky me.
This bruise - and I'm half-convinced of this - is possibly the reason I was bumped up to first class on my second flight. The man sitting next to me was quite insistent on talking to me, the conversation taking this awkward turn:
Guy: So, what do you do for a living? *cheesey grin*
Me: Uh, I'm a vet assistant. *holds book up higher*
Guy: Oh, you help veterans?
Me: No, I'm a veterinary assistant.
Guy: Oh, cool. Do you like snakes? *leans closer, starting to dig around in his pants*
Me: Excuse me?? O_O;;
Guy: *pulls out iPhone* This is my python. His name is Monty.
Me: Oh...Oh, he's handsome...*buries face in book for the rest of the flight*
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Wanted: Human Obedience Classes
It has suddenly occurred to me - ok, reoccurred - that humans are insufferably rude. A great example of this was the woman today that came in with her young son to pick up medications for their cat. While the mother gave us the evil eye waited in line for the receptionist to assist her, she pointed out our small Christmas tree in the back of the lobby to her son. The demon boy proceeded to toddle over to it and unwrap every single gift under the branches. The gifts placed there were simply for decoration, however there were approximately twenty of them in total, all of which had to be re-wrapped and placed back under the small tree. The best part? She watched the boy while he did it and encouraged him. Seriously, why are there no laws against these people breeding??
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Just a Little Extra-Special
I came across this video, while just surfing the web, about a cat with cerebellar hypoplasia. This disease is caused by the cerebellum not being fully developed by the time the cat is born. Symptoms usually appear immediately, though it is not life threatening. These cats need no special care, except maybe the occasional catch when they fall off the sofa. They live a long happy, healthy life with no side-effects except some balance issues. In short, they're just a little extra-special. So, please click the link and see this inspiring story. This is Charlie
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Pandemic of Dumb-Dumb Syndrome Continues to Worsen
It's recently come to my attention that no one listens to anyone else, at least when it comes to truly listening. This usually occurs when someone sings a wrong lyric in a song (i.e. "Hold me closer, Tony Danza," or "Lock the cat box"), but it has really started occurring with one particular word that we come across a lot at work. And no, it's not a complicated word like aminophyline (am-in-off-o-lin) or cefpdoxime (seph-puh-dox-ih-mee). It is, in fact, the word, spay. Now, I know what you're thinking. How can someone muck up a four letter word that's plain as day to know how to pronounce? In order to answer that I must first go into the different tenses of the word, and you in the back pouting about the language lesson, sit up and pay attention please.
There are very few variations of the word, "spay," including spayed (ex: My dog was recently spayed.), spaying (ex: Dr. Husband is in the middle of spaying that cat) and the word spay itself (def: a surgical procedure where the ovaries and uterus are removed, also known as an ovariohysterectomy [OHE]).
Now, seeing that there are those few variations of the word, how is it that not one, but several people can get it wrong? The best example I can provide happens - without fail - only on the telephone with people. The most common sentence the mistake is used in? "Yeah, I'd like to set up an appointment to get my (cat/dog) spayeded." Spayded. Yes, that's right, I said it. The fact that someone would use a past tense with an additional -ed on the end is appalling, especially when the word is so freakin' simple. I'm aware that I'm a grammar Nazi, but I could forgive this if it had just been one person. However, there's been a minimum of ten people I have heard this from, varying from white trash to upper middle class. Really folks? Really? I am horrified that the only thing I can do is attempt to subtly correct them and sit back with my face in my palm. I know not all pet owners know what IMHA (immune mediated hemolytic anemia) is, etc, etc. But, and I am begging everyone to do this for their daily lives and not just vet clinic visits, be aware of what you are saying when it comes out of your mouth. It doesn't even matter what it is that you're saying. If you're not sure, don't say it or ask someone about it. Hell, for words you're not sure how to use right there's this thing that's been around for forever called a dictionary. Use it.
There are very few variations of the word, "spay," including spayed (ex: My dog was recently spayed.), spaying (ex: Dr. Husband is in the middle of spaying that cat) and the word spay itself (def: a surgical procedure where the ovaries and uterus are removed, also known as an ovariohysterectomy [OHE]).
Now, seeing that there are those few variations of the word, how is it that not one, but several people can get it wrong? The best example I can provide happens - without fail - only on the telephone with people. The most common sentence the mistake is used in? "Yeah, I'd like to set up an appointment to get my (cat/dog) spayeded." Spayded. Yes, that's right, I said it. The fact that someone would use a past tense with an additional -ed on the end is appalling, especially when the word is so freakin' simple. I'm aware that I'm a grammar Nazi, but I could forgive this if it had just been one person. However, there's been a minimum of ten people I have heard this from, varying from white trash to upper middle class. Really folks? Really? I am horrified that the only thing I can do is attempt to subtly correct them and sit back with my face in my palm. I know not all pet owners know what IMHA (immune mediated hemolytic anemia) is, etc, etc. But, and I am begging everyone to do this for their daily lives and not just vet clinic visits, be aware of what you are saying when it comes out of your mouth. It doesn't even matter what it is that you're saying. If you're not sure, don't say it or ask someone about it. Hell, for words you're not sure how to use right there's this thing that's been around for forever called a dictionary. Use it.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Free At Last
Unfortunately today is a more somber post.
On Tuesday, December 5th, 2011, a particularly heart-wrenching case came in to us for an appointment. The patient was a blind cat that was fifteen years of age, brought in due to not eating for approximately two to three days. Upon arrival, the cat was open-mouth breathing - this is a behavior seen only in very stressed cats or those that are having difficulty breathing - which the owners chalked up to the car ride (the cat rarely left its home). Auscultation (listening) of lung and heart sounds indicated fluid in the thorax (chest), and radiographs were ordered to see if she had an enlarged heart along with fluid around her lungs.
During the x-rays, the cat began having trouble breathing. Another assistant and I were attempting to get a ventral/dorsal (vd) view - this means we were trying to get the picture to show her from her belly through to her spine so that her ribs all lined up over top of each other - when the cat began to panic and turn purple. During this panic, I was bitten on one of my hands before we were able to get her into the surgical suite to be put on oxygen therapy. Two minutes later, she passed away on the table from congestive heart failure (CHF).
This is not the worst part of the story. This poor cat was not up to date on any of her vaccines, including rabies. Because she bit an unvaccinated employee, the health department was contacted and they requested that the cat's head be sent off to be tested for rabies. As horrible as it sounds, currently the only way we have of testing an animal for rabies is to sample the brain tissue - this is where the rabies virus lives in infected animals - and that means beheading the patient.
For all the pain and suffering wrought on that day for those owners, I would truly like to say that I am sorry. I am sorry that your beloved pet was ill, and that in her panic for survival she lashed out due to instinct and it took away your ability to take her remains with you to bury her with your other lost pets. It was difficult to witness, and so I cannot even imagine the grief you are going through because of this incident. The most I can offer is the reassurance that she is no longer suffering. There is no congestive heart failure in heaven.
And so, in her honor, I am posting The Rainbow Bridge:
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
On Tuesday, December 5th, 2011, a particularly heart-wrenching case came in to us for an appointment. The patient was a blind cat that was fifteen years of age, brought in due to not eating for approximately two to three days. Upon arrival, the cat was open-mouth breathing - this is a behavior seen only in very stressed cats or those that are having difficulty breathing - which the owners chalked up to the car ride (the cat rarely left its home). Auscultation (listening) of lung and heart sounds indicated fluid in the thorax (chest), and radiographs were ordered to see if she had an enlarged heart along with fluid around her lungs.
During the x-rays, the cat began having trouble breathing. Another assistant and I were attempting to get a ventral/dorsal (vd) view - this means we were trying to get the picture to show her from her belly through to her spine so that her ribs all lined up over top of each other - when the cat began to panic and turn purple. During this panic, I was bitten on one of my hands before we were able to get her into the surgical suite to be put on oxygen therapy. Two minutes later, she passed away on the table from congestive heart failure (CHF).
This is not the worst part of the story. This poor cat was not up to date on any of her vaccines, including rabies. Because she bit an unvaccinated employee, the health department was contacted and they requested that the cat's head be sent off to be tested for rabies. As horrible as it sounds, currently the only way we have of testing an animal for rabies is to sample the brain tissue - this is where the rabies virus lives in infected animals - and that means beheading the patient.
For all the pain and suffering wrought on that day for those owners, I would truly like to say that I am sorry. I am sorry that your beloved pet was ill, and that in her panic for survival she lashed out due to instinct and it took away your ability to take her remains with you to bury her with your other lost pets. It was difficult to witness, and so I cannot even imagine the grief you are going through because of this incident. The most I can offer is the reassurance that she is no longer suffering. There is no congestive heart failure in heaven.
And so, in her honor, I am posting The Rainbow Bridge:
Just this
side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been
especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are
meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play
together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm
and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but
the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright
eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the
group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and
faster.
You have been spotted, and when you
and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion,
never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands
again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of
your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge
together....
Author unknown...
In parting words, I simply would like to remind owners to please keep your pets up to date on vaccines - especially rabies (it's the law, folks) - so as to minimize grief and stress should something like this occur.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Unexpected Expectations
Ok, I have to start by saying one thing: If you're into recreational drug use, don't involve your dog, cat, fish, parrot, albatross, or any other pet you may have lurking around your home (knowingly or otherwise). It simply comes down to this: just because you enjoy your high, buzz, or whatever you want to call it, doesn't mean your pet will. In fact, this could have dire consequences (surprise!). So, with all the holiday pancreatitis, foreign body obstructions, and ever holly-jolly hemorrhagic gastroenteritis (HGE) - it even comes in Christmas colors, just not the right shades or scent - why am I nattering on about drug use and pets?
I present to you Exhibit A: On December 2nd, 2011 a four year old male pug was brought in for severe lethargy during our morning appointment hours. Immediately Dr. Paranoid orders our most complete chemistry panel of bloodwork, as well as a set of radiographs (x-rays, people). Upon reading the results of both, she orders a complete blood cell count (CBC), the results of which are rather boring as well.
Just as our Tech O' the Day is getting ready to place an IV catheter - on the off chance that it may help the poor pup feel better, as Dr. Paranoid lost the game of Stump the Expert on this case - the owner decides to 'fess up. The dog had ingested pot. That's right, folks, pot. Marijuana, chronic, Mary Jane, you got it. With her hands the owner shows the approximate amount the dog ate, which was enough to cover the palm of the average adult human being. And it gets better, too.
From what the owner relayed, she was visiting from Michigan and had left her "prescription" on the coffee table to go get a drink before partaking. When she returned, the green was gone and the dog had that guilty look - you know how they do.
And so, after a few minutes research - and an unnecessary amount of the owner's money spent due to a case of severe Save My Own Skin syndrome - it was concluded that the pug would most likely spend the rest of the day, if not also part of the next, being very relaxed. Oh, and the owner was advised that he may be a tad extra hungry as well.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Letters To Antagonists
Yes, it's been a while since I've had a direct rant to certain persons I've had to deal with in the real world and it's time once again to make some scathing remarks! So, let's get down to business, shall we?
Dear Mr. Nosenseatall,
I'd just like to say that, while you may be king of your castle at home, that doesn't mean you can rule the dog park with an iron fist and yet not help referee the four-legged heathens. I am well aware that your weimaraner is still just a puppy, however that does not excuse you from teaching him manners when it comes to playtime. Of all people there, I am one of the most aware of how puppies act. However, that also means that I am well aware of how the owner should act as well. I don't care if you do have a prosthetic leg, you are responsible for your dog that you let antagonize - of all breeds - a pitbull. My pitbull. It's really no wonder why Tyson kicked your dog's ass, if you think about it. He did the right thing, trying to get away from the reeree you call your dog when he'd had enough. But no. Instead your pup kept picking at him and you did nothing but watch when my dog was clearly getting upset. Tyson is a very tolerant dog, he lets my other two beat up on him all the time! Your dog pushed him to his limit, and then you got upset with me when I didn't get there, "fast enough," for your liking. News flash: I was on the opposite side of the park prying a woodchip from Keller's mouth and sprinted over to yours and my dog as soon as I realised what was happening. I DO NOT appreciate you getting in my face because I, "had the audacity to bring a vicious pit to the park." Audacity? Really? The park is for everyone, and your dog is the one that started it. If anyone should be upset, it's me. So hobble along, and try some obedience for your jerkwad of a dog.
To Ms. Signsdo Notapply,
It is, and has been for the entire time you've used us for your veterinary care, that you have no respect for what we do, nor do you care about our business hours. Every time we see you, you're here several minutes before we open, or several minutes after we close and each time you're more rude than before. I understand your fifteen year old maltese was sick, and I'm very sorry for your loss. That, however, does not excuse you from being a snot to the receptionist when she hands you your receipt and you see an after-hours emergency fee. Let me break it down for you: you walked in the door at 1801 - that's 6:01pm - and we were closed according to the signs listing our business hours (I'd like to point out that we have multiple signs, including the GIANT RED FLASHING ONE just outside of our parking lot). Not only that, but you came in for your dog to be seen, not to pick up medications or even from grooming or doggy day care. That means you are an after-hours emergency and thus you are charged as such. We also do not appreciate you doing this not only on a Friday night - it's ok, none of us that work there have lives or anything at home - but you also insisted she stay through the weekend, despite Dr. Husband AND Dr. Paranoid insisting that you take her to the emergency clinic for the dog's own health and well-being. Thanks. Now we have to watch your dog die slowly over the course of three days, hoping against hope that we could restore her quality of life before you call half an hour before closing yesterday to tell us you'd rather we put her to sleep and that you'll be there to be with her during it in forty-five minutes. 'Scuse me? But didn't we go over this on Friday? Oh, wait, silly me. The rules and policies obviously do not apply to you. Apparently your parents were beyond teaching you manners. More's the pity.
That's the end of my rant for today. I'd like to post an update to my menagerie, as we have a new member! That's right, the aforementioned Tyson is the newest addition to our home. He's a ten month old pitbull puppy, just chock full of lovin's and patience. He's also getting neutered today. =D
Dear Mr. Nosenseatall,
I'd just like to say that, while you may be king of your castle at home, that doesn't mean you can rule the dog park with an iron fist and yet not help referee the four-legged heathens. I am well aware that your weimaraner is still just a puppy, however that does not excuse you from teaching him manners when it comes to playtime. Of all people there, I am one of the most aware of how puppies act. However, that also means that I am well aware of how the owner should act as well. I don't care if you do have a prosthetic leg, you are responsible for your dog that you let antagonize - of all breeds - a pitbull. My pitbull. It's really no wonder why Tyson kicked your dog's ass, if you think about it. He did the right thing, trying to get away from the reeree you call your dog when he'd had enough. But no. Instead your pup kept picking at him and you did nothing but watch when my dog was clearly getting upset. Tyson is a very tolerant dog, he lets my other two beat up on him all the time! Your dog pushed him to his limit, and then you got upset with me when I didn't get there, "fast enough," for your liking. News flash: I was on the opposite side of the park prying a woodchip from Keller's mouth and sprinted over to yours and my dog as soon as I realised what was happening. I DO NOT appreciate you getting in my face because I, "had the audacity to bring a vicious pit to the park." Audacity? Really? The park is for everyone, and your dog is the one that started it. If anyone should be upset, it's me. So hobble along, and try some obedience for your jerkwad of a dog.
To Ms. Signsdo Notapply,
It is, and has been for the entire time you've used us for your veterinary care, that you have no respect for what we do, nor do you care about our business hours. Every time we see you, you're here several minutes before we open, or several minutes after we close and each time you're more rude than before. I understand your fifteen year old maltese was sick, and I'm very sorry for your loss. That, however, does not excuse you from being a snot to the receptionist when she hands you your receipt and you see an after-hours emergency fee. Let me break it down for you: you walked in the door at 1801 - that's 6:01pm - and we were closed according to the signs listing our business hours (I'd like to point out that we have multiple signs, including the GIANT RED FLASHING ONE just outside of our parking lot). Not only that, but you came in for your dog to be seen, not to pick up medications or even from grooming or doggy day care. That means you are an after-hours emergency and thus you are charged as such. We also do not appreciate you doing this not only on a Friday night - it's ok, none of us that work there have lives or anything at home - but you also insisted she stay through the weekend, despite Dr. Husband AND Dr. Paranoid insisting that you take her to the emergency clinic for the dog's own health and well-being. Thanks. Now we have to watch your dog die slowly over the course of three days, hoping against hope that we could restore her quality of life before you call half an hour before closing yesterday to tell us you'd rather we put her to sleep and that you'll be there to be with her during it in forty-five minutes. 'Scuse me? But didn't we go over this on Friday? Oh, wait, silly me. The rules and policies obviously do not apply to you. Apparently your parents were beyond teaching you manners. More's the pity.
That's the end of my rant for today. I'd like to post an update to my menagerie, as we have a new member! That's right, the aforementioned Tyson is the newest addition to our home. He's a ten month old pitbull puppy, just chock full of lovin's and patience. He's also getting neutered today. =D
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