Not all fun and games...
Having chosen the path of a Keeper, I have chosen a very physical lifestyle, riddled with challenges, injuries, rewards, love and heartbreak. I told my mother at age seven that I was going to work with animals, and my passions have only grown since then. This past week though, I have been reminded in the harshest way, that my job is not all fun and games. I have committed my life to helping protect these species, and as you can imagine working hands on, you become very attached. I love each animal I work with, and losing one is a severe blow. Over the past few days, we lost Big Girl, a Burmese Python I worked very closely with to help diagnose, treat and recover from a double inner ear infection, and Bella.
Big Girl and I became very close when, because of a dry shed, she landed a double inner ear infection. After running the length of her across the zoo with two other keepers, Michelle and I spent hours and hours slowly soaking her, and peeling away her worn covering. Running our hands down her caked, dry skin over and over until it was smooth, gobs coming away in our palms. All the while with her resting her head on my neck; a warm spot of comfort in her pain. When we were through, we pushed medicated mice down her throat, praying for her to swallow. She recovered fully, and I visited her everyday there after. Losing her was a terrible blow; it was fast, but I hate to think I wasn't there to try and help.
Big Girl, a 14-foot Burmese Python.
Bella. My baby Bella, the white tail fawn that I have helped in raising over the past two years. Bella who stole my heart, and pranced upon her finger thin legs to give me kisses. Bella who I snuck treats to. Bella who I sat with because she was afraid of the thunder. Bella whose velvet nose became my shadow around her pen. My Bella. It was a fever. Long, painful, horrific. I can't stand to consider it. I should have been there to hold her like I did in the rain.
My Bella Baby, a white-tail faun.
I know this is a part of the path I love so dearly, but I also know that this will never get easier. I will always love them this much, it will always hurt, I will always cry, and each one will have a place in my heart.
Big Girl and I became very close when, because of a dry shed, she landed a double inner ear infection. After running the length of her across the zoo with two other keepers, Michelle and I spent hours and hours slowly soaking her, and peeling away her worn covering. Running our hands down her caked, dry skin over and over until it was smooth, gobs coming away in our palms. All the while with her resting her head on my neck; a warm spot of comfort in her pain. When we were through, we pushed medicated mice down her throat, praying for her to swallow. She recovered fully, and I visited her everyday there after. Losing her was a terrible blow; it was fast, but I hate to think I wasn't there to try and help.
Big Girl, a 14-foot Burmese Python.
Bella. My baby Bella, the white tail fawn that I have helped in raising over the past two years. Bella who stole my heart, and pranced upon her finger thin legs to give me kisses. Bella who I snuck treats to. Bella who I sat with because she was afraid of the thunder. Bella whose velvet nose became my shadow around her pen. My Bella. It was a fever. Long, painful, horrific. I can't stand to consider it. I should have been there to hold her like I did in the rain.
My Bella Baby, a white-tail faun.
I know this is a part of the path I love so dearly, but I also know that this will never get easier. I will always love them this much, it will always hurt, I will always cry, and each one will have a place in my heart.