Last night, after reading a medical post, I was reminded of scrubs. lol Bear with me, I'm sharing my thought process here. Well, thinking of scrubs reminded me of my stethoscope that was so tragically ruined a few weeks ago. Thinking of my stethoscope, of course made me think of the cat who ruined it, which then reminded me that I need to clip his nails. I hate clipping cat nails. This thought brought me my veterinary technician days. (this sounds strangely like, 'If you give a mouse a cookie'....) Thinking of my vet tech days, reminded me of this:
Earlier in the day, we had gotten a call about a lost dog. She was a cocker spaniel who had gotten out of her backyard when the kids left the gate open. The owner was calling around leaving a description and their name and number, should anyone call to report finding their dig. I think her name was Cassie. Anyway, this was common, so we wrote down the information and put it up on the board, forgetting about it as we prepared for surgery.
A few hours later, just as the last surgical patient was placed in its cage, the phone rang. I heard the receptionist answer the phone, and heard her getting directions from someone and asking if they thought the dog was still alive. Upon hanging up, she rushed over to tell us that a dog had been hit by a car and the person who called thinks its still alive. It was a cocker spaniel.
Janelle grabbed the stretcher, yes there are stretchers for animals, and I ran with her to her van. I had a feeling that we would be too late, but Janelle was hopeful and sped to the scene. We saw the body right away, laying on the side of the road, cars zooming past it, choosing not to look or be bothered by it. As we pulled up behind it, I saw its front paw move.
"Quick! Shes still moving!", I spit out as I scramble out of the vehicle running up to the dog. Upon reaching the poor thing, I saw that her skull was crushed. There was no way that she was going to make it. She wasn't breathing, and her tongue was already bluish, her gums pale and tacky. Janelle saw the severity of the injuries and we shared a disappointing look. She placed the stretcher on the ground and we carefully placed the body upon it before heading back to the van.
When we got back to the clinic, the doctors were waiting for us outside. I shook my head at them, signaling to them that it was too late. We brought the dog in and took special care in cleaning up the blood with hydrogen peroxide, making it presentable, should the owner come by to claim it. She had no collar on, but matched the description of the lost cocker spaniel from earlier in the day. Janelle called the owner with the news that perhaps their dog had been hit by a car and asked if they would like to come take a look to verify whether or not it was Cassie. The owner was very adamant that it couldn't possibly be his dog. We found her too far away from home, she wouldn't play in traffic, plus she didn't have a collar on. His dog always wears a collar. He agreed to come by after work though.
Me and Janelle were the only ones left at the clinic when he finally got there. We were just about to close when he walked through the doors.
"Hi. I called about our cocker spaniel...." His sentence trailed off, as I signaled to him that I knew who he was and asked him to follow me to an exam room while we got the body. He was very tall, probably 6'3" or taller. He ran his fingers through his blonde/brown hair as he added, "I know its not Cassie. She always has a collar on. It just couldn't be her. I feel bad for whos ever dog you found though." His blue eyes darted around the exam room nervously. He acted confident that we didn't have his dog, but the fear and anxiety was palpable in the small room. He held his suit jacket in his arms, fidgeting with it as I heard Janelle tap on the door.
I opened the door and helped her carry the dog in, placing it on the table for him to inspect. Janelle quickly left the room, afraid to hear the truth.
"No?" I ask.
He drops his jacket. "No, no, no, no,no!" He reaches out to touch the dog then stops, looking at me as if to ask if its okay. I nod. He barely touches her fur before hes reduced to tears. Its Cassie.
I reach over rubbing my hand against his arm, trying to console him in some way. He plops down on his knees, his body collapsing against mine shaking with his sobs. The weight of his body, nearly pushing me over, I too get on my knees to help support his body against me. His head rests on my chest and I can feel a stream of tears falling between my breasts.
I feel helpless and overwhelmed with a desire to make him feel better. I just held him while he cried. I wanted to kiss the top of his head and tell him everything would be okay, but I just listened to him cry and rubbed his back. He was so exposed, so raw before me. If I thought that sex would have erased his sorrow, I would have eagerly agreed to take part.
I felt sleazy at that thought. Thinking of sex at such an inopportune time. But I felt connected to him. Like, if ever there were a time to have sex with a stranger, and at the same time do a good deed, then this would be a perfect example.
Of course, that didn't happen. He collected himself and apologized before we discussed arrangements for Cassie. One last goodbye to his baby, a hand shake turned hug for me and he was gone.