The Most Valuable Job I've Ever Had

Perhaps, I'm a bit pre-mature in writing this.  I am, after-all, still in my twenties and haven't had all that many "real" jobs; but last week, something happened that made me think about all my past jobs and it also made me realize the most valuable job I've ever had.

What I mean by "the most valuable job" is probably not what you are thinking.  Because I don't mean the job where I made the most money, or the job that I enjoyed the most, or even the job I stayed at the longest.  I mean, it's the one job that what I learned while working there will be of great value to me for the rest of my life.

But don't get me wrong, this job is not the only job I have had that I have found value in. 

For example, my very first job was working at a print shop as a Customer Service Representative.  I learned so much about paper that I can't go to a restaurant anymore without thinking: "Is this a linen or a cardstock?"  I can't pick up a book or magazine or any publication for that matter without inspecting the binding.

And now that I'm thinking about it, I really don't know what exactly is useful about knowing the difference in paper poundage or how to perfect bind dissertations, but hey, at least I know what I'm doing once a publisher picks up that non-existent book I was talking about last time.

I also worked for four years on and off as a Personal Assistant to a very well-established real estate agent.  And while working for her, I learned something valuable about life.  In all actuality, I learned many things from her, but this particular little morsel of information is something that has indeed, helped me.  You see, this woman had been happily married for around 60 years (her husband still called her babe and it was just awesome) and when I found Jeff and figured out that he was "the one" I asked her what the secret to marriage is.  And she replied: "Well, I've learned that you simply have to support your spouse in everything they do." 

Fair enough.  Jeff and I both have lived by this since we tied the knot and I truly believe it sees us through some pretty tough times.

 Ah.  I just figured out what is valuable about working at a print shop.  I took what I learned from there to assemble the real estate agent's postcards at lightning speed.  (Hey, at least it's something)

I worked for a cell-phone company as a sales representative... learned a lot about phones. 

Worked for a horse trainer... learned what it really means to ride (which is not just sitting there, smiling, and going out to win a Western Pleasure class). 

I even, up until recently, sold advertising in a tough economy.  I learned that I do have a backbone and sales just really isn't my thing.

But out of all these jobs, there is one job that stands out among the rest.  It is, like I said, the one job that what I learned while working there will be of great value to me for the rest of my life.

And that job is... working at a vet hospital for a year.

Why, you ask?

Well, the answer is really quite simple.  I have a zillion animals.  Always have, always will.  And even though I was a superior pet owner before working at the hospital, I consider myself to be an exceptional one now. 



Snickers and me circa 1999

 You see, when Snickers died and I was inundated with vet bills, I had to stop my free-lancing gig and get a "real" job.  For some reason, a local vet hospital was hiring (it just seemed like fate to me) and so I applied and got the job as a receptionist. 

But let me tell you, being a receptionist at a multi-doctor vet hospital is no small task.  Especially when the hospital is equipped to deal with trauma, surgery, isolations, etc.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I feel so blessed that I did get myself into that industry, even if it only was for a year.

There are countless stories I could tell, ones that will make you cringe at the inhumanity of people, the suffering of animals, the death, the sadness.

But I also have countless stories of hope, of love, of compassion, and of healing. 

The only problem is, more often than not, these two types of stories are intertwined.

Like this one dog Batman who came in with his trachea completely exposed and countless wounds everywhere.  He was on death's door.  But one of our doctors saved him.  I got really attached to that dog.  I was happy when he got to go home... only to come back again after being in another dog fight.  It always amazed me how incredibly negligent people are of their animals.  It's something I don't think you ever get used to (at least, I never got used to it) but it's something that you eventually have to accept and concentrate on the differences you can make.  That's one thing I learned, concentrate on the positive and try to let the negative go.

I learned a great deal about dealing with people while at the hospital.  I was a receptionist, after all, and it was the other receptionists and me who had to console the families before and after losing their beloved pet. 

It was the other receptionists and me who had to turn away those who had no funds and pray they either stopped doing drugs long enough to take care of their ailing pet or that God would have mercy on that animal somehow. 

It was the other receptionists and me who had to answer the hard questions, more often than we cared to. 

And, it was me and the other receptionists who had to deal with pet owners that were crazier than me about their animals.

I say that because, even after being there a year, I still did not deal as well as my fellow co-workers did with the sadness.  And I had come to the conclusion after Snickers died, that if I could survive that, I could deal with anything involving animals.  That's why I applied at the hospital. 

But, I was wrong. 

There were times when I had to go in the bathroom and shed more than a tear for some chain of events I found to be particularly tragic or just downright sad.  I got better with it as time went on, but like I said before, it never went away. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, that even though I had the experience of seeing the other side of pet care, the side that most owners don't get to see, I will still always be that "crazy client."  I will always be that person that finds even the smallest amount of animal suffering to be almost unbearably sad.  And I will always try to "save the world, one animal at a time." 

However, even though I can still be a nut case, learning the logisitics of basic and intermediate animal care has allowed me to calm down, take a deep breath, and deal with the situation at hand.

Which brings me back to why I decided that this particular job has and forever will be my most valuable. 

I've been thinking about it for quite some time actually, like, say, since I started working there...

Literally three weeks after I started at the hospital, I took our Rottweiler, Kaya, in to be spayed.  She was two years old at the time and had gone through two heats.  I didn't think anything of it other than: "Sweet, I get half-off vet care, let's get this baby fixed, finally." 

Well, when I went to pick her up there was an eerie silence among the doctors and my co-workers.  I thought: "Uh oh. What the hell happened?"

Kaya in her T-shirt... and yes, it was
over the Christmas holiday

Well, note to self, big dogs, when they go into heat produce fat on their ovaries and other girly parts that are removed during a routine spay.  Since Kaya had gone through two heats, the fat was overwhelming and she was like trying to sew up wet tissue paper.  What resulted was a gaping hole in her gut that you could practically stick your fist in-- and for the next two months she had to wear a T-shirt because it leaked everywhere and we had to cleanse it with Betadine and such EVERY DAY. 

I think everyone thought I would be super upset because they had already figured out "how I am" about my animals, but I was fine with it.  I think I sensed even way back then that this was an invaluable experience for me.  The doctor that did her surgery was so amazing that even with that big ol' hole, there hardly is a scar.  His guidance for how to take care of her during recovery made me realize that even when things look heinous, it doesn't mean it's life threatening.

I also had a kidney scare with one of my cats while working at the hospital.  Thanks to all the kidney patients we treated I knew what to look for with my own felines.  Luckily, she is doing just fine now.

Tosh and me before we
found out he was sick.

And we took home a Labradane puppy that was brought in by some tweekers with a busted foot.  Tragically, we had to put Tosh down exactly 30 days later (and the day before my last day at the hospital) because he had contracted distemper from another puppy in the hospital. (Note: distemper is very rare, as long as dogs are properly vaccinated)  I learned from that experience how invaluable vaccines are and how sad and unfair this world can sometimes be.  And even though we were heartbroken, I knew that Tosh was a case of "we did the best we could."  We gave him a chance at life... it just wasn't meant to be.

After I quit though, it wasn't long before I started reverting back to my panicky, erratic ways. 

For example, on more than one occasion, Alice has seen the vet because she starts limping or crying and carrying on.  Not one time have I taken her in and she hasn't been 100% fine by the next day. 

Kaya saw the vet three times after we brought Marley home for kennel cough, and while that was a legit illness, I know the staff well enough that I probably could have gotten a different antibiotic simply over the phone.  But, I wanted them to see her. 

Why, I don't know. 

And I know that kennel cough is extremely contagious and I remember how I would hate it when I worked there and people would bring in their contagious pets and sit them in the lobby like they were the only ones there (I left Kaya in the truck, but still, I was becoming that person, again). 

But last week, I had a break through. 

Marley: the Goober.

I was at the barn all morning with the horses and when I came home, Marley's hind end and right side was covered in hives.  I panicked briefly, thought about throwing him in the truck and taking him to the vet, when all of a sudden I took a chill pill.

"Come here, Marley," I cooed as I rip open my giant bottle of Benedryl meant specifically for the dogs.  I shove one down his throat and call my pal Rustie at the vet.  After telling her what's going on, I use some common sense and simply ask if I can give him another Benedryl without killing him.  She laughs and tells me of course, he's a big dog and can handle it.  While still on the phone, I shove another Benedryl down his throat and wait.  Less than an hour later, all the hives were gone.

God only knows what that damn dog got into, it's not like we live on a farm or anything like that, and I searched our back yard for some sort of sign of ants.  See, I also learned a lot about bites at the hospital and I knew that it couldn't be a spider bite because that would be one giant welt, and it wasn't a snake because Marley more than likely would have been bit in the face and we would have a bigger issue on our hands. 

In closing, I feel like so much more of a confident pet owner after my time at the vet hospital.  I can give vaccinations, know how to cleanse and care for absesses and open wounds, know about different kinds of medications, poisons, and side effects, I can recognize the sumptoms of fatal diseases like parvo and distemper, and I now know how to clip nails and clean ears properly.

But more importantly, I have learned the value of staying calm in the face of possible tragedy.  I have learned the value of paying attention to our four-legged friends and what they are trying to express to us through body language.  And I know that I am lucky enough to carry this knowledge with me in order to give my pets a better life.

Until next time...