Today, I saw a very cute little dog who was in for suture removal after an orthopedic procedure. I saw the pet a couple of months ago, diagnosed the problem, and referred him to my boss for the repair. The dog was doing great, and the owners were thrilled.
They were chatting with the tech, to whom they have become quite attached over the past month, when the owner reached into her purse and pulled out 2 very beautiful handmade cards.
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“This is for you,” she said, presenting one to my tech. She handed the other one to me. “Would you mind giving this to Dr. Boss?”
Relegated to the role of mailman, I sadly put the card in my boss’s box and tried not to take it too personally. I haven’t kept exact counts, but I deeply suspect his gift and card pile is many miles higher than mine. I can’t figure out if I don’t hint enough, or if I just don’t inspire adulation the way others do.
It was like this in vet school too. My friend Dan, who now heads a prestigious department at a top veterinary school, was always getting stuff from clients. Cards, books, candy, casseroles from sweet grandmas and chardonnay from entrepreneurial cougars. Schwag galore. One doc I worked with at the emergency hospital got chocolates on a weekly basis, year-round- and he was on the Atkins diet so he didn’t even eat them.
When I was in college, majoring in biology up at a small liberal arts university in LA, I spent many hours at the coast studying the noxious effects of human debauchery on the environment. I’d sit at Dockweiler State Beach and admire the 747s taking off from LAX just over my head, inhaling the lovely smell of jet fuel and admiring the rare view of an empty Los Angeles Beach resting in the shadow of the Hyperion Sewage Treatment Plant.
I’d go home, sob a little about the depravity of man into my diet Pepsi, and then toss the can in the trash. I wasn’t very smart back then.
I’ve vowed to do better in my dotage, and although I’m no Ed Begley Jr. I’ve made some strides in the last few years. I compost. We have a little garden. I drive a hybrid. I’m not perfect, but I do what I can to make more environmentally friendly choices.
When I was in vet school, I attended a guest lecture by a trainer for Guide Dogs for the Blind. As a part of the lecture, we watched a video on the training process these dogs must pass. It was unbelievable, what they had to learn and master in order to graduate.
“We take this very seriously,” said the trainer as we saw a dog being trained to sit quietly in an airliner simulator. “If these dogs don’t behave well in any circumstance we can think of, not only do they put their people at risk, they put the entire program at risk.”
We watched as a van backed up right to where a dog was walking on a sidewalk. “These dogs are goodwill ambassadors for service pets. If they behave poorly in restaurants or libraries or other places pets aren’t normally allowed, it makes society less tolerant of them and the important role they play.”
It costs upwards of $20,000 to train one of these dogs.
Fast forward 10 years, to me walking into an exam room at my job at an emergency hospital, where a jittery woman held her sick Pomeranian in her arms. “It’s a service dog,” she said, as the dog tried to bite my hand. “He’s a service dog. I get the service dog discount.”
I kicked open the door and saw the dame sitting by my office desk right away. Kiki. This meant trouble.
“What are you doing here, kitten?” I growled, putting down my java and sliding my hand to make sure I was still packing heat. The cold steel of my shiv pressed against my palm. “Some hoodlum acting up again?”
“We got trouble over in the cell, Doc,” she said. “Jerky Maloy got popped in the schnozzle but he ain’t cooperating.”
Doc- that’s me. Doc Slicey. I pack a shot of joe in my left hand and a shot for Joe in my right.
“Jerky Maloy, eh?” My blood boiled just thinking of him. Last time I saw him he gave me a little chin music to remember him by. I still got the scars to prove it. “He’s all clammed up? He’s never had a problem opening his yap before. I got a century says we can make that canary sing.”
We went down to the clink where Jerky Malone sat staring at us all with a sour puss on his mug. “You look like someone took a good poke at you, Jerky,” I said. “It’s an improvement.” He hissed at me. Another hot-headed Irishman.
“That’s what I mean,” said Kiki. “Look at that ball on his kisser. He looks like someone planted a slug in his face, but he won’t let me get near him.” She leaned over and yelled, “Ya hear that, you punk? I’m TRYIN to help YA!” He stuck out a meaty paw and took a swipe at her kisser. She jumped back and cursed a blue streak.
Two more chances to win a copy of Scent of the Missing! The odds are better each day! Comment for a chance to win!
I had no idea my mere presence was enough to maintain the semblance of law and order, but apparently that is the case in this household. I leave for a week, and all hell breaks loose.
One: My daughter decided to give herself a haircut. Not a trim, mind you, but a full on what-was-once-halfway-down-her-back-is-now-chin-length sort of deal. She did this with kid scissors. Fortunately the baby sitter caught them before my son picked up a pair and decided to give dog grooming a go. I asked her why she did this, and her answer was an ambiguous “I wanted to help.” Help me have a heart attack, maybe.
I briefly debated the merits of letting her wear a half-mullet for a day while mulling on the consequences of her Ken Paves impersonation, but I figured my fellow parents already had a low enough opinion of my parenting skills based on my poop bag improvisation without adding in abject humiliation of a 5 year old, so she was taken on an emergency 8 pm run to Supercuts before the damage went public. On the plus side, a short bob suits her. Thank god.
Two: I also got a call that Brody had tapeworms. “EEEEWWW!” I yelled into the phone. “I don’t understand. He’s been on flea control since day one.” Nonetheless, in the face of uncertainty I went ahead and got him dewormed.
When I got home, my husband pointedly informed me that he just found some more dessicated tapeworm segments. “Where?” I demanded. “On his head,” he told me. I looked.
“Those aren’t rice-like worm segments. Those are actual dried up grains of sushi rice.” This is what happens when you teach a five year old how to make onigiri and then leave for a week. No one knows where the rice originated, or how it wound up on Brody’s head, but there you go.
Things could always be worse, I suppose. They were kid scissors, for one. And I suppose I should be grateful it was sushi rice that Brody got into and not raspberry jam lest his life threatening jamorrhagic injury get me permanently laughed out of the hospital when I got back.
Today’s winner chosen by random.org is #19- Annette! Congratulations!
I finally got to see How to Train Your Dragon last week. I wasn’t expecting a whole lot, truth be told- it was something to do with my kids on spring break- but I was really blown away at how much fun it was. I liked it even better than Avatar. Yeah, I went there.
Aside from the fact that I got to see the IMAX version, and I don’t know how much that added to my enjoyment, I think Dreamworks finally took a hint from Pixar and focused on telling a really fantastic story. Took those guys long enough- I’ve been waiting since the first Shrek movie for something this good.
What they did brilliantly, if I can analyze a moment, is make the main dragon, Toothless, a sufficiently ambiguous creature that the audience members could compliantly anthropomorphize and see in him a family dog. Or, say, a favorite ocelot.
Come on. Tell me that isn’t uncanny.
And then as soon as you see how adorable and cuddly Toothless is- oh look! He’s just as lovable as my kitty! awwwwww! – then they have you, a weepy puddle of goo for the climactic scene at the end as you realize that OH DEAR GOD WHY CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?
It may not be the most subtle message, but I’ll forgive it for two reasons- one, this was a movie geared to kids where subtlety is not always a virtue; and two, Avatar was so ham-fisted with its USB-ponytail-enabled Na’vi protecting their Unobtainium (dopiest name ever) that I must accept that American moviemakers have thrown in the towel when it comes to subtext and assume we’re all morons.
To summarize: See the movie. And be nice to animals, especially really cute ones.
Before I regale you with today’s call, just a reminder the Book-A-Day Giveaway goes all week! Every commenter today before 9 pm PST is entered today in another chance to win Susannah Charleson’s Scent of the Missing!
Receptionist: Hello, how may I help you?
Person: Yeah, I’m in Bangkok and I need to do a favor for a friend.
Receptionist: Errr……OK…..
Person: So, my friend has a cat and he has a mass on his leg. I want to e-mail you some pictures, pay a consultation fee and have the doctor tell us what they think it is and what we should do.
Receptionist: And the cat is a client of ours?
Person (irritated): Uh no, he’s here in Bangkok. But I’ve come in to see you once for a rabies vaccination a few years ago.
Receptionist: I’m pretty sure we can’t do that.
Person: Can I speak to an office manager?
(person sits on the phone on hold, presumably from Bangkok, while the receptionist tracks down the office manager and explains the situation.)
Person: I don’t see what’s so complicated about this. You haven’t even asked the doctor, have you? Can’t you just give me the doctor’s e-mail and I will explain it to them?
OM: No, I’m afraid I can’t do that. It just….it just violates a lot of laws to practice medicine that way.
Person: This is ridiculous. I’m not asking them to do anything, just make a diagnosis. Just tell me the e-mail.
OM: Don’t they have veterinarians in Bangkok?
*dial tone*
Today’s Book-A-Day Winner, selected by random.org is Tammy! Send me your info!
I was supposed to be in Columbus for Blog Paws this last weekend- two short evenings away, then I would return home to San Diego to resume my regularly scheduled activities. That is what I packed for.
Instead, as I touched down in Chicago for my layover on the way to the conference, my phone started ringing. “Gram isn’t doing so well,” my sister said as I sat on the tarmac. “They don’t think she is going to survive the weekend.”
As we taxied to the gate, the entire plane got to overhear me frantically whispering to her- “Should I come? Should I change my flight? I don’t know what to do!”
My sister put my mother on the phone. “If you come out here right now-” pause- “I’ll kill you. You need to go to your conference.”
by Dr. V | Tuesday | April 13, 2010 | Comments are off for this post
Here is the widget that all the bloggers can use for Be The Change on Friday:
The BlogPawty is taking place April 21st from 7 pm – 1 am EST. Frugal Dougal has a summary of some of the prizes that will be given away during the pawty, such as a Deluxe Furminator, a $500 web design package, iPod shuffles- just to name some of it. You don’t want to miss it! All you need is a Twitter account to play, so if you haven’t gotten one yet now’s the time.
You ever come back from a whirlwind event and just kind of sit there slack-jawed, thinking to yourself, “Wow, I can’t believe I just got to be a part of that”? That was BlogPaws.
I’ve sat in many conferences in my days, listening to various keynote speaker types tell their story, and every single one of them has some singular path-altering event where the skies parted, the sun shone down, and they knew that their life was about to get really interesting.
I know, in that ineffable way one simply can’t adequately describe, that this conference was, for me, that moment. I’m not sure exactly what will happen, but it will happen, and whatever it is, it’s going to rock.
I am so grateful for the opportunity to meet each and every person I did, sad that I missed the rest of you, and above all anxiously awaiting the announcement of BlogPaws 2011, hopefully in Paris.
As you are reading this, I should be winging in the air over the Midwest on my way to Columbus, Ohio for the very first, one of a kind, inaugural extravaganza
I’m so excited to meet so many of you and put names to the faces I’ve been speaking with over the last year. It’s going to be fantastic. And to those who couldn’t make it, there will be tons of people talking about Blog Paws on Twitter so you can follow in on the festivities.
If you’re going, I hope to get the chance to meet up with you and say hello! I’ll be heading the expedition to find the nearest Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream. What can I say? That’s how I roll.
