Sometimes, I'm an insult to bitches.
Of the female dog variety, but the title amused me.
This morning, i got a call at about 8am from my co-worker. I hadn't worked yesterday because we only had 2 boarders and the weather wasn't the greatest. Since i was sick on Monday as well, i offered to work Saturday to compensate. That's why i thought i was being called.
Instead, it was my co worker (Who doesn't usually get in until 9). She informed me that Churchill, one of the two boarders,had passed away last night. I had only worked at this place for 4 1/2 months, but it was Churchill and his brother Gershwin that i took care of most regularly. While both older, Churchill was riddled with a heart condition and other complications. Everytime he boarded, our goal was "just keep him alive." it sounds like a heartless thing to say, but it was true.
Just keep Churchill alive until he got home. He came in with Gershwin to board for 3 weeks on Thursday, and died in his sleep Friday night.
(Or, i hope it was in his sleep, because nobody is there overnight. Churchill, i hope you didn't suffer.)
Anyway, I've been doing alot of...erm...bitching about my job, and this made me realize why i'm in the field in the first place. I love animals, for starters. i want to work with animals. I've just been so caught up in my stress, that i forgot the big picture.
Feeling a little sad by Churchill's passing, and worried about Gershwin. They were littermates, inseparable, and knowing animals, i wouldn't be surprised to come in to find a very depressed Gershwin on Monday. I also wouldnt be surprised if Gershwin followed his brother to the Rainbow Bridge very soon.
But i came online. i wasn't crying, or anything like that. Dillon followed me in, clamored gracelessly up his doggy steps,and curled up with his head on my stomach. He hasn't left that position for an hour.
So dogs? Dogs are amazing. Dillon doesn't give a shit if he has 2 years to live, or a day. He doesn't care that he's losing his hair to Cushings, while a man would be racing for Rogaine. He doesn't care that he can't get onto the couch or into the car without assistance, as long as he gets fed and gets to be with his family.
And i realize i've been selfish, and i'm encouraged to make things better. Just because Dillon can't walk or run like he used to doesn't mean i skimp on quality walks. He proved the other day he still plays with toys and Charlie. I haven't been focusing on what i CAN give him, besides medication and blood tests, because i focused on the money aspect. I haven't focused on what i CAN do for him on a personal level, instead of whining about how much time i might or might not have with him.
'Cause someday, loathe to admit it, Charlie is going to be in Gershwin's position: waking up to his best friend/brother being gone. And they aren't children. You can't explain it to them.
So, thank you, Dillon and Churchill, for the eye opener i needed
Starting to cramp a little in this position, though
This morning, i got a call at about 8am from my co-worker. I hadn't worked yesterday because we only had 2 boarders and the weather wasn't the greatest. Since i was sick on Monday as well, i offered to work Saturday to compensate. That's why i thought i was being called.
Instead, it was my co worker (Who doesn't usually get in until 9). She informed me that Churchill, one of the two boarders,had passed away last night. I had only worked at this place for 4 1/2 months, but it was Churchill and his brother Gershwin that i took care of most regularly. While both older, Churchill was riddled with a heart condition and other complications. Everytime he boarded, our goal was "just keep him alive." it sounds like a heartless thing to say, but it was true.
Just keep Churchill alive until he got home. He came in with Gershwin to board for 3 weeks on Thursday, and died in his sleep Friday night.
(Or, i hope it was in his sleep, because nobody is there overnight. Churchill, i hope you didn't suffer.)
Anyway, I've been doing alot of...erm...bitching about my job, and this made me realize why i'm in the field in the first place. I love animals, for starters. i want to work with animals. I've just been so caught up in my stress, that i forgot the big picture.
Feeling a little sad by Churchill's passing, and worried about Gershwin. They were littermates, inseparable, and knowing animals, i wouldn't be surprised to come in to find a very depressed Gershwin on Monday. I also wouldnt be surprised if Gershwin followed his brother to the Rainbow Bridge very soon.
But i came online. i wasn't crying, or anything like that. Dillon followed me in, clamored gracelessly up his doggy steps,and curled up with his head on my stomach. He hasn't left that position for an hour.
So dogs? Dogs are amazing. Dillon doesn't give a shit if he has 2 years to live, or a day. He doesn't care that he's losing his hair to Cushings, while a man would be racing for Rogaine. He doesn't care that he can't get onto the couch or into the car without assistance, as long as he gets fed and gets to be with his family.
And i realize i've been selfish, and i'm encouraged to make things better. Just because Dillon can't walk or run like he used to doesn't mean i skimp on quality walks. He proved the other day he still plays with toys and Charlie. I haven't been focusing on what i CAN give him, besides medication and blood tests, because i focused on the money aspect. I haven't focused on what i CAN do for him on a personal level, instead of whining about how much time i might or might not have with him.
'Cause someday, loathe to admit it, Charlie is going to be in Gershwin's position: waking up to his best friend/brother being gone. And they aren't children. You can't explain it to them.
So, thank you, Dillon and Churchill, for the eye opener i needed
Starting to cramp a little in this position, though