Helping Wounded Puppies (and Kitties). Mostly Kitties, Actually.
So I had my first day at the vet's today. It was cool. Four hours went by pretty quickly. It was very awkward because there were a lot of people rushing around injecting cats with things, and I didn't know who anyone was or where anything was, but I guess I'll learn. Everybody kept asking me if I wanted to be a vet, which is awkward, because the truthful answer would have been, "No, actually. I wanted to help dogs with no homes, but they don't take shrimps like me so I got stuck with the dying cats." And there are a lot of dying cats. Two cats got euthanized today, and one was very clearly dying (he was sprawled out in his cage, not eating or drinking, with blood coming from his rectum, and whenever he raised his head it bobbed back and forth unsteadily, because he was so weak). His owner was away, so his owner's sister came to see him. Poor baby.
On the other hand, there are some very sweet animals. I was nervous because there are a lot of cats, but the place is super clean and everything seemed fine. I got to walk Farrah, this old long-haired Keeshound, and Casper, a psychotic little Chihuahuah with a major peeing problem. There was Hershey, a poodle with seizure problems who was on a lot of valium and kept walking into things, and Clara, an adorable bulldog with back problems and an abundance of kisses. We also had this dachsund in to get x-rays, and he was very sweet and very obviously confused. There was this one cat named Shadow, who was the friendliest cat I've ever seen. I was changing his litter and cleaning out his cage, and while I was doing so he kept rolling on his back and purring, so I pet his tummy a little.
I also heard a funny joke: What do you call a cross between a penis and a potato?
A dictator.
I can live with this. They don't have quotas about cleaning cat shit.