Rest in peace little neva.... i wont forget you
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
A New Day, a New Name
 |
| Neva |
Today my supervisor reviewed my little brown and white pit, the one who took Nash's cage. I saw the temperament test video. She ran from my supervisor and growled, low and scared, her eyes looking anywhere but the camera.
"She's an Evil Little One" I want to laugh. She is not evil, she is scared. Just scared. I wish she would listen. I have time for now, to try and bring the little girl over from her fears. I have time to get her to trust more than just me. Maybe then I can make a difference and save her.
I've given her a secret name. Technically, I'm not allowed to name her. Not until she's moved to the adoption floor. Her name is Neva.
Neva is small and scared and I wonder if she has the strength to get over her fears of the people around her. It's said that with a name, anything can become stronger. An idea, a person, an animal. It gives them strength. With a name, Neva I think has a hope... I don't know why she's not afraid of me, but from the first moment I saw her in Nash's cage, and the first moment she looked me in the eyes, I've always gotten a tail wag.
But today is Wednesday. I will not be back to see my Neva until Monday. I can only pray that she lasts long enough for me to see her again.
There were no deaths today, no euthanasia to feel part of me cut away with. So, today.... I think it may have been able to be called good.
Thank you all who are reading.
~LJ
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Beginning.
We can never predict where we'll end up in life. We can never say "Five years from now I will be in precisely this job, with precisely this lifestyle". It simply doesn't happen that way. Life takes us where we need to go, be it through the fires of hell and out the other side, or for some fortunate few, over the mountains and to comfort.
Never in my life did I foresee myself sitting on my couch after midnight on a Tuesday night, not being able to comfort myself into sleep. Around me is an empty house, except for three loving pit bulls. Husband gone at the Police Academy, there's no one to talk to. I think the dogs are tired of hearing my words, they've long since gone to sleep.
Here's the thing. I want to do good in this world. I want to save lives and give chances where others saw none. I want to work in the rescue field, open my own pit rescue, make a difference. I've always felt though that to accomplish that, I need to really understand why. I've fostered before, I've volunteered at rescues before... But none of that really adds up to the reality of why I'm taking classes in every one of my spare moments. I made a decision, that I needed to see the dark side of the moon sorta speak. So, two weeks ago I started working for a local Animal Control.
I should have walked away before the end of that first interview.
The vet that interviewed me - and in the end gave me a tour, she asked me how I felt about euthanasia. My reply was honest. I hate it. I understand it in cases where there is no other option, if the animal is in pain, but I can't wrap my head around it as just another solution. She said that she liked that. That I would be a breath of fresh air to the otherwise jaded staff. So...
About two minutes into the tour, she opened a small door. The door said "Wild Child Room. Beware." Beware. huh.
At first, my eyes didn't click with my brain on what was in front of me. I wanted to see the cats meowing in the stacked kennels in this tiny room. I wanted to see their frantic eyes. I wanted to see anything else at that moment. What I saw though was a cat lying above the drain in that tiny hot room. It's body motionless and it's eyes open seeing some world on the other side of the rainbow bridge. Alone. Even after I registered that it had been euthanized, I couldn't understand why it had been done in front of these other cats. Why had it been done on the floor, and left there? Where was the compassion?
I should have ran away.
After the interview was over I sat in my car. I asked myself what I can just seen. Somehow, I told myself that if I took the job, I could change things. I could change the procedures. I could make this better. If I walk away, then I was walking away from any of the animals that I may have been able to help within their walls. Right.
My first week, it wasn't so bad. No euthanasia, no death. I started thinking, well maybe that cat in the "Wild Child" room, it was just a fluke. Not the normal.
You see, here's the thing about the Wild Child room. A Wild Child is a feral cat, or a cat thats acting altogether unfriendly. It basically is a warning to anyone walking in the room that you don't touch these cats. These cats.... Well they'll wait their ten days (most of them are at least held that long) and then they'll be euthanized.
Monday, I arrived at work and my supervisor let me know it was cleaning day in the Wild Child room. Cleaning of course is 90% of the job at Animal Control, so at first I just thought it was the day where their cages would be scrubbed down and cleaned down. (It is very difficult to clean a cage in this room, and to be honest it always looked like it could use a good scrub.) I was wrong.
I followed her into this small room. Five cats stared at me. She started listing off the kennel numbers. Four of the five. I wrote them down and followed her. She pulled out four syringes. By now I was worried, but my voice wasn't working. She asked me to open up our computer system, update the kennel information. One word was to be added to the comments, and their location was to be changed. She left me staring at the screen at she went to "Clean."
My fingers couldn't type. She wanted the comment to read "De-Populized." A word she'd made up for euthanasia. Location was to be changed to "Freezer."
I didn't lose it. I wont forgive myself ever for not losing it. I love animals. More than people. As I typed that word into their files and updated their location, those animals were dying. Alone on a cement floor, one by one in front of the others who awaited their own death. I think about it now as I type this blog. As I open myself to be judged by strangers. I think I was numb. I think I'm still numb now. I fear the numbness running away from me.
By the time I walked towards the Wild Child room, my supervisor was already walking away from the freezer. I threw myself into cleaning and when that was done I went to my favorite dogs cell. Funny, thats the only word I can call the cold concrete of the walls.
His name is Nash. He's a big tan pit with black ears and pretty brown eyes surrounded by perfect eye liner. His kennel card reads as SURRENDERED::: REASON ::: TOO MANY.
I sit in his cage and I think about the cats and I give him single pieces of kibble as I teach him sit. He wiggles and kisses me. He gives me some hope. Today is day ten for Nash. Wednesday is Neuter day and I know he will have his surgery and get to move to the adoption floor. I know his adoption wont be quick, he's a pit, but he's sweet and gentle.
The speakers crackle and call for a kennel employee to check for a dog on the lost report. Someone calling in to find a dog that may be in our small dog room. I scratch Nash's neck and kiss his nose and he kisses my face in return. I'll sneak him something yummy before I leave in half an hour.
My supervisor catches me a short time later, hands me three black trash bags.
She is pushing a big 50 gallon trash bin. I can see the moisture on it from a film of frost. Another kennel girl is with her. I follow them to the intake room. The door swings open.
Nash's kennel is directly infront of the doors.
Nash is lying on his side, no thump to his tail as I had become accustomed to in the last week. No movement. He's looking at the steel walls that backs his cell.
I thank god that he wasn't looking at the door. I thank god that I didn't see his lifeless eyes. Nash is gone...
I must have said it outloud. My supervisor says "Yea, it's his tenth day."
I can't stay there. I leave. I can't even learn to breathe again before she calls me back in. Nash is in a black bag. So are two other dogs. She asks me to tilt the garbage bin. Somehow I do. Nash slipped away from me to the bottom of that bin and part of me died. On top of him a Golden Retriever, left by his family at the age of 12 because he was too old. On top of her, another pit bull, surrendered by her family after a bite incident.
Below those two sad stories, my Nash. My hope that good could come of this hell hole.
I looked at his tiny cell and saw the blood staining his power ranger blanket I'd brought him earlier. All I can see now is the blood. All I can see in my heart are his eyes.
"It's four you can clock out."
I don't remember walking out or driving away.
Somehow. I went back today. I can't stop thinking of Nash.
I couldn't stop thinking of Nash as I cleaned the intake cells. Nash's kennel isn't empty anymore. A brown and white stray Pit is in it. She's terrified. I wonder if she knows Nash died where someone set her food dish. I wonder if she knows his blood was there and if thats why she wont eat.
Part of me wanted to walk away. Will she be there in ten days? Will she be euthanized? Will I cry over her as I did Nash? Will her owners pick her up, are they even looking?
I feed her kibbles one by one and teach her tricks. She's not as scared. I left her today. I wondered to myself "Shouldn't she be scared though?"
So. it's after one now. Technically Wednesday. Sleep doesn't seem possible right now. I think talking... It's made the numbness fade.
I gave up everything for this job. This job that is slicing my soul into pieces. I'm not a killer. But I work for them. I wonder if Nash's owners are the Killers. I wonder if they'll call and ask if he was adopted, and if they'll realize that they gave him a death sentence.
I don't know if I'll last. I don't know if I can. But I do know that Nash needed at least some love in those ten days. If I can stay strong, I can give that. I just dont know if I can. I don't know if I want to be able to see this happen again.
In memory of:
Nash. Kennel 22A
Twinkie 23B
Sasha 23A
Cats 77, 79, 81, 80.
Never in my life did I foresee myself sitting on my couch after midnight on a Tuesday night, not being able to comfort myself into sleep. Around me is an empty house, except for three loving pit bulls. Husband gone at the Police Academy, there's no one to talk to. I think the dogs are tired of hearing my words, they've long since gone to sleep.
Here's the thing. I want to do good in this world. I want to save lives and give chances where others saw none. I want to work in the rescue field, open my own pit rescue, make a difference. I've always felt though that to accomplish that, I need to really understand why. I've fostered before, I've volunteered at rescues before... But none of that really adds up to the reality of why I'm taking classes in every one of my spare moments. I made a decision, that I needed to see the dark side of the moon sorta speak. So, two weeks ago I started working for a local Animal Control.
I should have walked away before the end of that first interview.
The vet that interviewed me - and in the end gave me a tour, she asked me how I felt about euthanasia. My reply was honest. I hate it. I understand it in cases where there is no other option, if the animal is in pain, but I can't wrap my head around it as just another solution. She said that she liked that. That I would be a breath of fresh air to the otherwise jaded staff. So...
About two minutes into the tour, she opened a small door. The door said "Wild Child Room. Beware." Beware. huh.
At first, my eyes didn't click with my brain on what was in front of me. I wanted to see the cats meowing in the stacked kennels in this tiny room. I wanted to see their frantic eyes. I wanted to see anything else at that moment. What I saw though was a cat lying above the drain in that tiny hot room. It's body motionless and it's eyes open seeing some world on the other side of the rainbow bridge. Alone. Even after I registered that it had been euthanized, I couldn't understand why it had been done in front of these other cats. Why had it been done on the floor, and left there? Where was the compassion?
I should have ran away.
After the interview was over I sat in my car. I asked myself what I can just seen. Somehow, I told myself that if I took the job, I could change things. I could change the procedures. I could make this better. If I walk away, then I was walking away from any of the animals that I may have been able to help within their walls. Right.
My first week, it wasn't so bad. No euthanasia, no death. I started thinking, well maybe that cat in the "Wild Child" room, it was just a fluke. Not the normal.
You see, here's the thing about the Wild Child room. A Wild Child is a feral cat, or a cat thats acting altogether unfriendly. It basically is a warning to anyone walking in the room that you don't touch these cats. These cats.... Well they'll wait their ten days (most of them are at least held that long) and then they'll be euthanized.
Monday, I arrived at work and my supervisor let me know it was cleaning day in the Wild Child room. Cleaning of course is 90% of the job at Animal Control, so at first I just thought it was the day where their cages would be scrubbed down and cleaned down. (It is very difficult to clean a cage in this room, and to be honest it always looked like it could use a good scrub.) I was wrong.
I followed her into this small room. Five cats stared at me. She started listing off the kennel numbers. Four of the five. I wrote them down and followed her. She pulled out four syringes. By now I was worried, but my voice wasn't working. She asked me to open up our computer system, update the kennel information. One word was to be added to the comments, and their location was to be changed. She left me staring at the screen at she went to "Clean."
My fingers couldn't type. She wanted the comment to read "De-Populized." A word she'd made up for euthanasia. Location was to be changed to "Freezer."
I didn't lose it. I wont forgive myself ever for not losing it. I love animals. More than people. As I typed that word into their files and updated their location, those animals were dying. Alone on a cement floor, one by one in front of the others who awaited their own death. I think about it now as I type this blog. As I open myself to be judged by strangers. I think I was numb. I think I'm still numb now. I fear the numbness running away from me.
By the time I walked towards the Wild Child room, my supervisor was already walking away from the freezer. I threw myself into cleaning and when that was done I went to my favorite dogs cell. Funny, thats the only word I can call the cold concrete of the walls.
His name is Nash. He's a big tan pit with black ears and pretty brown eyes surrounded by perfect eye liner. His kennel card reads as SURRENDERED::: REASON ::: TOO MANY.
I sit in his cage and I think about the cats and I give him single pieces of kibble as I teach him sit. He wiggles and kisses me. He gives me some hope. Today is day ten for Nash. Wednesday is Neuter day and I know he will have his surgery and get to move to the adoption floor. I know his adoption wont be quick, he's a pit, but he's sweet and gentle.
The speakers crackle and call for a kennel employee to check for a dog on the lost report. Someone calling in to find a dog that may be in our small dog room. I scratch Nash's neck and kiss his nose and he kisses my face in return. I'll sneak him something yummy before I leave in half an hour.
My supervisor catches me a short time later, hands me three black trash bags.
She is pushing a big 50 gallon trash bin. I can see the moisture on it from a film of frost. Another kennel girl is with her. I follow them to the intake room. The door swings open.
Nash's kennel is directly infront of the doors.
Nash is lying on his side, no thump to his tail as I had become accustomed to in the last week. No movement. He's looking at the steel walls that backs his cell.
I thank god that he wasn't looking at the door. I thank god that I didn't see his lifeless eyes. Nash is gone...
I must have said it outloud. My supervisor says "Yea, it's his tenth day."
I can't stay there. I leave. I can't even learn to breathe again before she calls me back in. Nash is in a black bag. So are two other dogs. She asks me to tilt the garbage bin. Somehow I do. Nash slipped away from me to the bottom of that bin and part of me died. On top of him a Golden Retriever, left by his family at the age of 12 because he was too old. On top of her, another pit bull, surrendered by her family after a bite incident.
Below those two sad stories, my Nash. My hope that good could come of this hell hole.
I looked at his tiny cell and saw the blood staining his power ranger blanket I'd brought him earlier. All I can see now is the blood. All I can see in my heart are his eyes.
"It's four you can clock out."
I don't remember walking out or driving away.
Somehow. I went back today. I can't stop thinking of Nash.
I couldn't stop thinking of Nash as I cleaned the intake cells. Nash's kennel isn't empty anymore. A brown and white stray Pit is in it. She's terrified. I wonder if she knows Nash died where someone set her food dish. I wonder if she knows his blood was there and if thats why she wont eat.
Part of me wanted to walk away. Will she be there in ten days? Will she be euthanized? Will I cry over her as I did Nash? Will her owners pick her up, are they even looking?
I feed her kibbles one by one and teach her tricks. She's not as scared. I left her today. I wondered to myself "Shouldn't she be scared though?"
So. it's after one now. Technically Wednesday. Sleep doesn't seem possible right now. I think talking... It's made the numbness fade.
I gave up everything for this job. This job that is slicing my soul into pieces. I'm not a killer. But I work for them. I wonder if Nash's owners are the Killers. I wonder if they'll call and ask if he was adopted, and if they'll realize that they gave him a death sentence.
I don't know if I'll last. I don't know if I can. But I do know that Nash needed at least some love in those ten days. If I can stay strong, I can give that. I just dont know if I can. I don't know if I want to be able to see this happen again.
In memory of:
Nash. Kennel 22A
Twinkie 23B
Sasha 23A
Cats 77, 79, 81, 80.
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