Okay, so week 1 at the clinic is winding to a close.
I am loving every minute of it.
Monday I worked 9-3 and I learned how to run a fecal floatation and 3DX snap test. I also got to peer through the microscope at some Giardia, which my super scientific mind found really spiffy. (My dad used to keep me amused for hours with a microscope and some creek water.) I've seen pictures in text books and such, but actually seeing it there on the slide with my own eyes was a trip. Being me, I talked to it. Dr. W found it and told me to go look, I looked and said, "Why hello there, Giardia." Now they know I'm crazy. I outed myself early.
It's interesting being The New Guy. Being in an environment that allows me to learn was one of the biggest draws of this job for me, and yet not knowing the routines and feeling incompetent bugs the shit out of me. I was doing the fecals and 3DX snaps by myself on the first day, but I had to holler half-jokingly "I WANNA DO IT BY MYSELF, GAWD!" at someone before they stopped acting like I'd have to see it done 10 times first. Maybe having to show someone ten times first is typical for them. But I wanna do it by myself. Gawd. I spent the first two days shadowing people and observing what goes on. Then Wednesday morning, I just thought, "Well screw it. I'm never going to do it if I don't just start grabbing files and going," so I did. I grabbed the file on one of the first annual dog visits that came back, opened it, read the file, called the owner and patient in, did what needed to be done and then took the file back for Dr. W. When I told one of the girls that I had been shadowing my first day, her eyes got huge and she said, "Man. It took me weeks to start calling people in. You've only been here for.. what, this is your third day?"
So far I haven't really gotten any feedback from anyone. I like feedback. I tried to get feedback out of Dr. W and she only told me, "Don't smoke." I have no idea if I'm moving too fast for their comfort, if I'm showing a good level of interest and initiative, or if I'm just going through orientation the way they wish everyone did so they have no comment.
One of the drawbacks of feeling comfortable with doing things early on is that people tend to start giving you more and more challenges, which is great, but in a medical setting can be scary. Yesterday I went to hold a dog for one of the girls while she put in a heparin catheter prior to a dental cleaning, and she was talking to me as if I'd be doing it the next time. K, I don't wanna do that yet. That's kind of important. You have to stick them right the first time or you don't get another chance and then what. Up a creek, that's what. There was a joke Monday morning that by the end of the week I'd be on my own and have to draw blood by myself, and everyone around me laughed like it was super funny, but I'm actually okay with that. I think I can draw blood by myself as long as I have someone who can actually hold a dog still for me. I'm not trying to put IV catheters in yet, though.
Randomness: I like coming home smelling like the antiseptic clinic smell.
More Randomness: It's interesting that at the store, my allergies bugged the crap out of me constantly. At the clinic, not so much, even though my nose is usually inches from strange dogs and cats who are stress shedding like mad, and I'm fairly allergic to cats. So far I've had one sneeze. Knock on wood.
Have I seen dogs from the store? Yes, I have, and some cats. Most of which I recognize. I saw a ruby Poochon who was there a month ago almost causing drama between two people who both wanted her worse than they've wanted anything before in their lives. She's doing well, but more wired than a Shiba and that's saying something. I saw a customer and her Maltese that I sold to her a year and a half ago who were favorite regulars of mine. I was happy to see her. She was in to have his anal glands expressed and I told her she'd have to bring him to see me at the clinic from now on. I saw a Beagle/Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mix that we had at the store months ago. She was so tiny when she came to the store people kept thinking she was a Chihuahua (with those Beagle/Spaniel ears, she didn't look anything like a Chihuahua to me, but I guess the only thing that matters to some people is size.) She's much bigger now, but still a very small dog, and just as sweet as she can be. She was only there for a vaccination, and the entire time she was too concerned with licking me in the face to even notice someone sticking pointy things in her haunch. I found myself wondering if they remember who I am.
Every time we get a new puppy visit from the store, I check to see if it's Ringo.
I keep my mental fingers crossed that when someone buys him, they aren't the people who decide to skip the free visit and just go directly to some other vet. Or none at all.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Last Day
Today was my last day.
Everything I did today, I did it thinking The Last.
This is The Last Time I will drive down this road to work.
This is The Last Time I will sit outside for 20 minutes before anyone gets there to let me in.
This is The Last Time I will clock in here.
I went back and looked over my puppies. The Poochon who has been there seemingly forever and is still cheerful and bouncy and happy. She reminds me of a giggly elementary school girl with perfect titian curls. The Puggle who has been there for a month having a small patch of ringworm on his left hind hock treated. Calling him "Ringworm" evolved into calling him Ringo, and he would howl and bay and get my attention and then act like a fool trying to bite his own tail while watching me from the corner of his eye. He is always watching me. Sometimes I would turn around to catch him watching me with his head cocked to the side and his ears up as if seriously trying to figure out what I was up to, and why I did what I do. Despite my dislike for the designer dog craze, I have nothing against the dogs themselves, and I have to admit, Puggles are cute, and full of personality. Ringo was the last one who got to me. I found myself, while watching his antics, wondering how he'd get along with Kitsune and reminding myself repeatedly that my SO can barely handle the yodels and howls of Kitsune, let alone adding to that another yodeling, howling, braying vocal hound.
I didn't want to stay in the kennel today. I found myself wandering out all the time, to talk to co-workers that I know I will miss sorely.
I packed up the stuff I was taking with me: A coffee cup I kept forgetting to take home. My CD book. My Plumb's Veterinary Drug Handbook. I left my giant radio/CD player because when it was at my house I never used it anyway, and the kennel can sometimes be hard to take without music. The puppies like music. I also left my Merck's Veterinary Manual for SaintTawny and the couple of other people who would actually want to use it. But mostly for SaintTawny.
I was hugged, and told that nobody would ever be able to do my job as well as I did it.
I was given a new journal (I have a teensy bit of an obsession with blank books) and told that my leaving was creating a void that no one else could ever fully fill. (Tears!)
I was kissed, and told that I have made someone proud.
The boss man, who rarely can say something serious, lifted me off my feet in a huge bear hug and said, "I'll miss you, kid."
I didn't cry, but I came close.
My Facebook status is currently:
K9Trainer is officially no longer a pet store employee. Thank you, pet store, for all the opportunities, the friendship, and the memories. Past and present employees, if you can read this, its because I <3 you guys like family.
Everything I did today, I did it thinking The Last.
This is The Last Time I will drive down this road to work.
This is The Last Time I will sit outside for 20 minutes before anyone gets there to let me in.
This is The Last Time I will clock in here.
I went back and looked over my puppies. The Poochon who has been there seemingly forever and is still cheerful and bouncy and happy. She reminds me of a giggly elementary school girl with perfect titian curls. The Puggle who has been there for a month having a small patch of ringworm on his left hind hock treated. Calling him "Ringworm" evolved into calling him Ringo, and he would howl and bay and get my attention and then act like a fool trying to bite his own tail while watching me from the corner of his eye. He is always watching me. Sometimes I would turn around to catch him watching me with his head cocked to the side and his ears up as if seriously trying to figure out what I was up to, and why I did what I do. Despite my dislike for the designer dog craze, I have nothing against the dogs themselves, and I have to admit, Puggles are cute, and full of personality. Ringo was the last one who got to me. I found myself, while watching his antics, wondering how he'd get along with Kitsune and reminding myself repeatedly that my SO can barely handle the yodels and howls of Kitsune, let alone adding to that another yodeling, howling, braying vocal hound.
I didn't want to stay in the kennel today. I found myself wandering out all the time, to talk to co-workers that I know I will miss sorely.
I packed up the stuff I was taking with me: A coffee cup I kept forgetting to take home. My CD book. My Plumb's Veterinary Drug Handbook. I left my giant radio/CD player because when it was at my house I never used it anyway, and the kennel can sometimes be hard to take without music. The puppies like music. I also left my Merck's Veterinary Manual for SaintTawny and the couple of other people who would actually want to use it. But mostly for SaintTawny.
I was hugged, and told that nobody would ever be able to do my job as well as I did it.
I was given a new journal (I have a teensy bit of an obsession with blank books) and told that my leaving was creating a void that no one else could ever fully fill. (Tears!)
I was kissed, and told that I have made someone proud.
The boss man, who rarely can say something serious, lifted me off my feet in a huge bear hug and said, "I'll miss you, kid."
I didn't cry, but I came close.
My Facebook status is currently:
K9Trainer is officially no longer a pet store employee. Thank you, pet store, for all the opportunities, the friendship, and the memories. Past and present employees, if you can read this, its because I <3 you guys like family.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Kitsune & The Vacuum: A Love/Hate Relationship
Kitsune seems to hate the vacuum cleaner.
Every time I get it out, he slinks around the perimeter of the room with his ears askance, and every once in awhile he darts in to make a quick attack.
He actually does attack the vacuum cleaner. He makes a high pitched half-bark, and dives in to bite it, right on the brush side, which can't feel very good (and is probably at least partly responsible for the fact that my vacuum cleaner brush spinners no longer spin very well). I've tried to keep him from this hobby of trying to destroy the vacuum cleaner, which is why he slinks around the perimeter of rooms before he sneaks in his attacks. He knows he's not supposed to do it. It's as if he can't help himself. I know now what the prelude to attacking the vacuum looks like, and when I see him even look like he's going to start, I tell him, "No!" and he trots off, only to circle back and try to sneak in again in another minute.
When the vacuum is off, and no one is touching it, he leaves it alone. I know it's not necessarily the noise it makes that bothers him, because I've turned it off and pushed it aimlessly around as though I was still vacuuming with it, and he still darts up and tries to bite it. So I'm at a loss, but something about the vacuum being pushed around on the floor makes my dog want to kill it. I've already thought of and discounted the possibility that he's having fun playing a game. He looks too agitated to be having fun.
Now, here's where things get interesting.
If I take the hose out, to use it, Kitsune wants me to vacuum him with it.
But he still wants to bite it periodically. Just so it knows he still hates it.
I'll take the hose off and Kitsune will immediately come begging for a good vacuuming (which is great when he's shedding), and I'll start rubbing him down with the hose. But he wiggles and squirms and leans into me while I'm doing it, so he gets stuck to it a lot. He does not like that, and this is when he usually bites it. He'll make a high-pitched noise that is almost, but not quite, a Shiba Scream, bite the vacuum hose, and then immediately do something stupid like stick his face on it, or lean his neck into it. Thus the cycle starts over again.
Interestingly enough, although I'm holding and directing the vacuum cleaner hose, he never tries to bite me. Only the vacuum cleaner. It's evil, and must be ended, but it feels oh, so good.
Every time I get it out, he slinks around the perimeter of the room with his ears askance, and every once in awhile he darts in to make a quick attack.
He actually does attack the vacuum cleaner. He makes a high pitched half-bark, and dives in to bite it, right on the brush side, which can't feel very good (and is probably at least partly responsible for the fact that my vacuum cleaner brush spinners no longer spin very well). I've tried to keep him from this hobby of trying to destroy the vacuum cleaner, which is why he slinks around the perimeter of rooms before he sneaks in his attacks. He knows he's not supposed to do it. It's as if he can't help himself. I know now what the prelude to attacking the vacuum looks like, and when I see him even look like he's going to start, I tell him, "No!" and he trots off, only to circle back and try to sneak in again in another minute.
When the vacuum is off, and no one is touching it, he leaves it alone. I know it's not necessarily the noise it makes that bothers him, because I've turned it off and pushed it aimlessly around as though I was still vacuuming with it, and he still darts up and tries to bite it. So I'm at a loss, but something about the vacuum being pushed around on the floor makes my dog want to kill it. I've already thought of and discounted the possibility that he's having fun playing a game. He looks too agitated to be having fun.
Now, here's where things get interesting.
If I take the hose out, to use it, Kitsune wants me to vacuum him with it.
But he still wants to bite it periodically. Just so it knows he still hates it.
I'll take the hose off and Kitsune will immediately come begging for a good vacuuming (which is great when he's shedding), and I'll start rubbing him down with the hose. But he wiggles and squirms and leans into me while I'm doing it, so he gets stuck to it a lot. He does not like that, and this is when he usually bites it. He'll make a high-pitched noise that is almost, but not quite, a Shiba Scream, bite the vacuum hose, and then immediately do something stupid like stick his face on it, or lean his neck into it. Thus the cycle starts over again.
Interestingly enough, although I'm holding and directing the vacuum cleaner hose, he never tries to bite me. Only the vacuum cleaner. It's evil, and must be ended, but it feels oh, so good.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
This afternoon, I was hanging around outside of the kennel because my dishwasher is finally getting replaced, and I didn't want to get into the middle of something only to have to abandon it half-finished when they brought the new one in.
Since I didn't have anything better to do, I was being register person for a few hours, while trying to let the manager on duty do the things that only she knows how to do, like ordering and inventory n'stuff.
Instead, she ended up doing my job and helping someone at the puppy window.
I heard her say, "Well, I don't know if it'll go through, but I'll try to charge one penny on it and see. If it works I'll just give you a penny and if it doesn't, well then we know."
She comes up to the register with this CareCredit credit card. She says, "Do you know what this is?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's a credit card for health care expenses." It pretty much says so clearly on the card.
"It's not going to work here." It wasn't a question. She knew full well it wasn't going to work.
"No, I seriously doubt it. What is she trying to use it for?"
"She wants to buy the Pomeranian."
Seriously? With a health care card? People are getting desperate when they're trying to use their health care cards to buy puppies.
She tried anyway. Just in case.
It didn't go through.
Since no one was at the register, I walked back with the manager to see how this lady was going to take the fact that her health care card could not be used to obtain puppies.
She went from exceedingly cheerful to exceedingly sour instantly, dragging her granddaughter or whoever the young girl with her was out of the puppy room with her snapping, "Well I guess we'll just leave, then," at the manager as though she had something to do with the fact that her health care card could not be used anywhere but, oh, say, a doctor's office or pharmacy.
I can't wait to not have to deal with that sort of nonsense. You have no idea.
Since I didn't have anything better to do, I was being register person for a few hours, while trying to let the manager on duty do the things that only she knows how to do, like ordering and inventory n'stuff.
Instead, she ended up doing my job and helping someone at the puppy window.
I heard her say, "Well, I don't know if it'll go through, but I'll try to charge one penny on it and see. If it works I'll just give you a penny and if it doesn't, well then we know."
She comes up to the register with this CareCredit credit card. She says, "Do you know what this is?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's a credit card for health care expenses." It pretty much says so clearly on the card.
"It's not going to work here." It wasn't a question. She knew full well it wasn't going to work.
"No, I seriously doubt it. What is she trying to use it for?"
"She wants to buy the Pomeranian."
Seriously? With a health care card? People are getting desperate when they're trying to use their health care cards to buy puppies.
She tried anyway. Just in case.
It didn't go through.
Since no one was at the register, I walked back with the manager to see how this lady was going to take the fact that her health care card could not be used to obtain puppies.
She went from exceedingly cheerful to exceedingly sour instantly, dragging her granddaughter or whoever the young girl with her was out of the puppy room with her snapping, "Well I guess we'll just leave, then," at the manager as though she had something to do with the fact that her health care card could not be used anywhere but, oh, say, a doctor's office or pharmacy.
I can't wait to not have to deal with that sort of nonsense. You have no idea.
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