Epic?
Got to the barn to ride the other night and one of the mares *coughprobablyTakicough* let all of her fellow fillies into the back door of the barn. Now this is no easy feat, as the handle is a turn and pull kind of scenario, and it often sticks shut. But someone had left the chain off and lo! the mares had a party in the barn. Tore apart two bales of hay, pissing all over most of it, chewed holes in all 3 bags of shavings stacked in the aisle and toppled them over. Tipped the trash can and rummaged through it's contents. Pulled lunge lines off their hooks, chewed up fly spray bottles, tugged blankets off stall door bars, dumped over a grooming box, and took a bite out of the eraser from the whiteboard at the door. At least the grain is locked safely in the tack/feed room. Oddly enough, of all the things they ate/chewed on/destroyed, all of their leather halters were hanging on their hooks untouched. Lol, go figure. Needless to say I didn't get home until late since I still had to ride after helping clean up the fiasco in the aisle. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I should have bought a gelding, haha.
This weekend at work was slooooow! As in hasn't been that slow in months. Finished cages, wet feeding, and all the dishes before lunch. Sat on my butt twiddling my thumbs and reviewing updated SOP lists for awhile before washing down my runs end of the day. Would have stripped the feeders off those 3 dirty units, but there were no empty feeder carts to be found ANYWHERE. Cindy took off today at noon for her son's open house, and Gerry came in to cover. Just in time to watch us embarrass Cindy about the zombie puppy.
Yes, you heard me, zombie puppy. He rose from the grave. Or the mort tub, but it's pretty much the same thing. Apparently Cindy found this newborn hound puppy squashed by his inexperienced fat momma this morning. He was purple, had slat lines pressed into his belly by the cage floor, the works. Cindy got pretty vigorous trying to get him breathing, but not so much as a gasp. Couldn't find a heartbeat, and as his eyes were still closed, couldn't test for an orbital response. So he was written up, tagged, and into the fridge he went. Unfortunate, but them's the breaks. Until a few hours later, as I sat reading said SOPs and kept hearing a crying puppy. It was really muffled, and I couldn't imagine where it was coming from. Tilley told me to lay off the acid, cuz she didn't hear it. But the longer we sat there, it got louder and she heard it too. We checked the hound unit in the bay behind the tech room wall, not there. Checked the hospital, but no pups in there were that young sounding. If y'all know newborn puppies, they don't whine or bark like their older counterparts. They sort of mewl at you like kittens. So as Tilley is headed back to the tech room from the hospital, she passes the fridge and stops. "No way.." she says, but opens the door anyway. "No. Way. OHMYGOD!" as she sees the hound puppy, chilly but pink wiggling in the mort tub on the top shelf. We pulled him out, warmed him up, took off the toe tag, corrected the mort book and put him back with his momma. Holy cow was he hungry! We have named him Richard. Because lets' face it, life totally Dicked this puppy over! But he's doing really good so now Tilley and I have something cute to cuddle and spoil for awhile. And that was my exciting weekend at work.
In other news, the last Titanic survivor died today. It makes me sad, like the ending of an era, the turning of a page in history. You have to wonder if there were things about the journey she forgot to tell people, or things she just forgot entirely. Maybe some things she thought too intimate to share. I'd love to dig in the brain of a person whose seen that kind of history, but alas, it shall probably never be. Maybe I should consider a career path as a historian of some kind? I dig culture and language and epic stories. Must do some meditating on this. Not like the "llama llama" style, just stew it over for a bit. Still trying to figure out what to do with my life after Covance. Because I can't stay there forever. Nuh-uh, no way. But unfortunately the economy does not allow for me to leave my place with no destination to travel to. Wanderlust is not encouraged by my financial obligations, haha. But I hear Colorado is nice this time of year. ^__^
This weekend at work was slooooow! As in hasn't been that slow in months. Finished cages, wet feeding, and all the dishes before lunch. Sat on my butt twiddling my thumbs and reviewing updated SOP lists for awhile before washing down my runs end of the day. Would have stripped the feeders off those 3 dirty units, but there were no empty feeder carts to be found ANYWHERE. Cindy took off today at noon for her son's open house, and Gerry came in to cover. Just in time to watch us embarrass Cindy about the zombie puppy.
Yes, you heard me, zombie puppy. He rose from the grave. Or the mort tub, but it's pretty much the same thing. Apparently Cindy found this newborn hound puppy squashed by his inexperienced fat momma this morning. He was purple, had slat lines pressed into his belly by the cage floor, the works. Cindy got pretty vigorous trying to get him breathing, but not so much as a gasp. Couldn't find a heartbeat, and as his eyes were still closed, couldn't test for an orbital response. So he was written up, tagged, and into the fridge he went. Unfortunate, but them's the breaks. Until a few hours later, as I sat reading said SOPs and kept hearing a crying puppy. It was really muffled, and I couldn't imagine where it was coming from. Tilley told me to lay off the acid, cuz she didn't hear it. But the longer we sat there, it got louder and she heard it too. We checked the hound unit in the bay behind the tech room wall, not there. Checked the hospital, but no pups in there were that young sounding. If y'all know newborn puppies, they don't whine or bark like their older counterparts. They sort of mewl at you like kittens. So as Tilley is headed back to the tech room from the hospital, she passes the fridge and stops. "No way.." she says, but opens the door anyway. "No. Way. OHMYGOD!" as she sees the hound puppy, chilly but pink wiggling in the mort tub on the top shelf. We pulled him out, warmed him up, took off the toe tag, corrected the mort book and put him back with his momma. Holy cow was he hungry! We have named him Richard. Because lets' face it, life totally Dicked this puppy over! But he's doing really good so now Tilley and I have something cute to cuddle and spoil for awhile. And that was my exciting weekend at work.
In other news, the last Titanic survivor died today. It makes me sad, like the ending of an era, the turning of a page in history. You have to wonder if there were things about the journey she forgot to tell people, or things she just forgot entirely. Maybe some things she thought too intimate to share. I'd love to dig in the brain of a person whose seen that kind of history, but alas, it shall probably never be. Maybe I should consider a career path as a historian of some kind? I dig culture and language and epic stories. Must do some meditating on this. Not like the "llama llama" style, just stew it over for a bit. Still trying to figure out what to do with my life after Covance. Because I can't stay there forever. Nuh-uh, no way. But unfortunately the economy does not allow for me to leave my place with no destination to travel to. Wanderlust is not encouraged by my financial obligations, haha. But I hear Colorado is nice this time of year. ^__^