Work Experience

When I was twenty three, I almost qualified to be a veterinary nursing assistant. I had the theory down but work experience just wasn’t what I had expected it to be…then again I didn’t know what to expect. It was down to me o do the grunt work; I cleaned the cages, walked the dogs, that could walk, outside to do their business. The vets had kennels and a grooming lounge at the back. I filled in when they were short staffed. I had never seen as much poo in all my life.

 The best memory I got from the year was when a boxer had puppies under a suzerain section and it was all hands on deck. The vet had the puppies coming out with speed, and after the seventh one he stitched up the mother. I was handed an albino one. I had to shake him and put my fingers down his throat to try to expel any residual mucus he had stuck down there after coming out of his mothers womb. I wrapped him in a blanket and performed a strong rocking motion only vertically, rubbing the little guy with all my might before, finally, he made a sound. I continued to rub him vigorously to encourage him to breathe and after what were the longest ten minutes of my life…he was still alive. I closed my eyes holding him close and whispered into his tiny white ears, ‘welcome to the world little one!’

When I arrived back the next week there were only four puppies left, then the following week two, and maybe because I couldn’t handle death, that was the last time I set foot in that particular clinic…until Rex got sick anyway, got rest his soul. I respect those who do the job but it wasn’t the career for me. I was still delighted to have tried it, but it wasn’t for me.