Seconded. I’m just sorry for all the times I saw that “astride my Arabian” status and mistakenly cursed her for giving physical comfort and sensual rewards to terrorists.
Were it not for my sister having my back I’d have availed myself.
I spent a long time at the vet’s today. Mardi’s doing as well as he’s supposed to be, zonked out but recognized me and crawled into my lap, though they said he’s being an ornery patient (which gives me more pride than it should; it’s such a cool thing that a defining family trait passed into our dogs [my mother once woke up from a coma to attack an orderly* and the 18 pound rat terrier fights against a sedative then clings to the bars with his mouth and paws to delay going to sleep and when the assistant removed his cone to bathe him and left to answer a phone call thinking he was passed out she returned to find he had pulled his IV out- sorry for the trouble to them but I love that little boy]).
I had a long talk with the Lesbian on Duty. (Not a judgment call, just an observation and one for which I’m glad-
GODFATHER:
Amerigo Bonasera: “For justice, you to Don Corleone.”
NORTHERN EXPOSURE:
Maurice Minnifield: “You want the best car you can get, you get you a Cadillac from Dee-troit and get a Cadillac, you want the best doctor, you get you a Jew from New York City.”
ME:
“You want the hightest caliber of post-op dog care, get you a middle aged lesbian vet assistant (and a Trekkie to boot).”
Anyway, we talked for a long while, super cool super caring woman. I asked about a couple of the things in this thread, including the ratio of cats to dogs. She’s been in the business for many years and said it’s the same here- way more dogs in the hospital than cats. She also said that while she herself is a dog person and while she loves cats she’s very grateful, because while Mardi has been ‘difficult’ (good boy!) he’s docile as a newborn pup compared to most cats who she says are by far the worst patients of household mammalian pets. (This particular clinic doesn’t treat birds or reptiles.)
Because they’re so much closer to the jungle or the savannas than dogs and are much more independent and feral they’re not likely to show pain until it’s unbearable, which often means by the time they come to the vet they require major surgery. She said that cats fight surgery every step of the way and that if they haven’t been declawed they often have to be as they’ll scratch and bite and attack any way they can from the time they’re brought in til they leave; she still has scars from a Persian years ago who didn’t particularly want to be anesthetized. After surgery they’re much harder to control, much more skilled at getting out of their cones or other restraints, and like my mother they only know that “I’m uncomfortable as hell and that bitch over there has something to do with it” [pretty much her words].
Just curious: is this the experience of others who’ve worked at vets?
*My mother was in ICU on amnesiac drugs and floating in and out of consciousness, rarely had any idea where she was or when it was on those occasions she had consciousness. When she came too after her medication had been reduced and she was in her first lucid moment in days it was to see a black male respiratory therapist with gold capped teeth hovering over her and checking her ventilation tube [she’d had a tracheotomy]. She reverted to wrestling training from 40+ years before to attack. He was stunned not just at the attack but the strength of the old woman. When she calmed down she apologized, and the nurse himself said “Look, you’re an old white lady, don’t know where you are except you’re in a bed, and there’s a big black guy with gold teeth in your face and holding you down… no offense taken, I’d have done the same thing. But damn baby, for a woman your age you got some serious adrenoline…”.