It isn’t going to end well.. It rarely does.
There is a very short time-sensitive period of inflection, that place where if just the right steps are taken at just the perfect moment a peaceful veil of sensibility can descend that might possibly allow a resolution where everyone wins, no one feels baffled or betrayed, and, most importantly, we might just be able to save a life. The challenge lies in both finding that inflection point, and, being able to influence it. Achieving perfectly timed recognition whilst positively influencing outcome AND being courageous enough for both is an exceptionally tall task.
It is rare to find a happy ending when so many varied ends of the personality chart are involved. Even rarer when a vulnerable young pet is involved, and almost impossible when the county government with their own agendas, restrictions, and noose hold abilities are in the play.
Rare, if not impossible. As of present I have only been fortunate when all others departed, and/or, abandoned the mission willingly.
This is a story about muddling up the lives of those you know need you. The lives that pet parents can't manage safely, and, the appalling tragedies that play out in the judicial system once the parties get sucked in. I have yet to see it end well. It has left me extremely tentative to intervene and even more compellingly paralyzed to turn away. I recognize the tragedy in my tentativeness will cost the ones who I am ethically and morally compelled to intervene on behalf of. I admit that becoming indifferent, accepting that this will never get better for them, and that failing every time previously is accepting defeat for any meaningful change moving forward. Giving up on the hope to have it get better is giving up on the meek and the voiceless.
These are two real-life stories of puppies who in the end were set up to fail on all sides of a custody battle between their families and the laws that are supposed to protect them.
We can't seem to learn this lesson. We have been repeating it for decades, and still, our hearts tell us one thing and our experience and hindsight teach us another.
Last night we repeated our "shame on us" lesson again. A very sweet young guy came in with an equally charming, albeit wired, young black shepherd to say he had found him a few miles away. He had brought him to us for assistance in finding his home. The dog was microchipped and within a few moments we had the information we needed to reunite him with his family.
A phone call was made. “We didn’t know he was missing,” was the first thing the owner said. Probably not a good sign. A quick flash to Facebook revealed an hour old post of another concerned citizen who had posted photos of the dog trying to get in their back patio door. Not a menacing act, not a dangerous dog, just a young smiling dog at a back door looking for options from a kind heart.
When a gruff, ruffled, stoic, and unsettling man showed up at the clinic a short time later without a leashed pet, or carrier, we all feared he was here to collect. He looked like the kind of guy who might sell contraband for fun, and intimidate for spite. Slicked back greasy grey hair, jeans that haven’t been washed in decades, and dirt, lots of dirt. He was scary, intimidating, short tempered and quick with the tongue. All of these he took pride in. None of us wanted to talk to him. We most especially didn’t want him to be here to claim this dog. We should have not called him. We knew that now. It wouldn’t change his ownership rights, but it wouldn’t have had to be us turning the dog over. You just know these things. You can accuse me of judgement, but give me a minute.
When we brought the dog out to him the dog took one look at the owner and his swiftly wagging tail, fell, dropped to his knees and halted in his tracks. That puppy was terrified. Think your dog doesn’t know what kind of human you are? They do. The guy immediately yanked the leash from us. The pup lurched backward, recoiled in fear and trepidation and exhaled a wind of crying moans. He threw the dog into the car as his dog frantically tried to escape from then beat him into submission and willingness.
Where will this go? No where good. He will break that dog into being a biter, or kill him into submission, and that guy who so desperately needs to bully and intimidate to validate his own worth will move on to another dog who looks like a breed he can dominate, this guy wont ever have a cat or a chihuahua his tiny fragile ego wont ever let him love something to earn what unconditional love gives back.
And for those of us at the clinic held horrified and hostage to witnessing this, well we will house these guys and surrender them to the cops at animal control next time. I will never permit the staff to have to witness this again. Let the proper authorities bear witness and decide how to manage the asshat and the victim. At least they keep records of lost pets, make sure they are vaccinated, and put guys like this on the radar. Maybe if he has outstanding warrants for abusing kids he will leave this pup at the shelter for a better chance with another person.
What's the worst part of being a vet? No, it's not the tearful euthanasia as we bid farewell to a companion who was so beloved they have an entourage of sniffles, tears, and stories of a life everyone giggles about as they fondly remember it and sends them to heaven in the loving arms of their family. No, it’s the jerks who never gave a damn about their pets, outside of yelling, or beating them, or training them to be bait, and never will. The asshats who beat, ruin, destroy and produce animals that the BSL laws manifest from. This is the tragedy in being a veterinarian, being complicit to vicious evil people who own your patients and destroy them simply because they can get away with it. Think I'm wrong? The justice system is full of spineless prosecutors. Its not that they don’t know, or see, or hear, they just don’t act.
Where do I intervene again? I will never call a microchipped pets owner again unless they are a client. I will only call Animal Control. I will willingly and knowingly subject these pets to perhaps never being picked up at the shelter (many owners refuse to look for them, or, don't think to check there, or, don't want to pay the reclaim fee). These pets might then be put up for adoption, or, they will be euthanized if the shelter deems it necessary. The other potential shelter outcome is exposure to disease an possible death due to that. It is the prayed for hope, which I have seen happen numerous times, that a pet who began in the wrong hands lands the dream adoption and gets their blissfully joyful second chance in a home full of love and devotion.
The other story that will haunt me for the rest of my days is the puppy who I would meet weeks later in the shelter. His story with me began with an inquiry phone call from the young pups mom to my veterinary clinic as she was trying to find help for her puppy, (all four months old of him), who had been suffering with a broken leg for over a week.
This is a clear cut and simple case of 'no good deed going unpunished'. It is also another small whispering reminder that I need to start to listening to. I need to leave well enough alone and remember that bad cases can evolve into worst cases quickly. And, that unknowingly, un-wantingly and unwillingly these can escalate out of your hands into full blown disasters with the spark of a prelude in good intentions.
This puppy's story began with a phone call to the clinic. A cryptic phone call about a puppy with a broken leg who needed help the owners couldn't afford. As in all cases like this when we have a client we don't know and a puppy we know needs help, we start with an in clinic examination. We go from there. In many cases we can make miracles from intentions. It didn't start here. An appointment for the examination was made, and then no one showed. We called to see why? No answer. No answer for repeated attempts for days.
Worry set in. We worried for as long as we could quietly. That worry turned into a phone call to Animal Control. They visited the puppies home. They found a puppy with an obviously broken leg who hadn't been seen by a veterinarian and the puppy was ordered to be brought to a vet within 48 hours. We were called again and this time we offered to help with an examination for free. The puppy, sweet, happy, playful, excited to see new people, had an old fracture. So old it wouldn't be likely to heal without significant and possibly repeated bone plates from a boarded orthopedic surgeon. This constituted as neglect in the eyes of Animal Control. The puppy was essentially seized by Animal Control as they mounted a case for neglect against the owners. The puppy was left at the shelter where he stayed locked in a cage for months. Over that time I saw him turn from a happy socially outgoing and sweet, albeit lame, puppy into an emotionally neglected pit bull with fear based aggression. He was euthanized due to behavior issues, with his still broken leg, a few months later. He would have been better off with a bum leg and a family who loved him. We, with the best of intentions, killed him. I see his face behind those double caged bars to this day.
This is the real life a veterinarian leads. It is the fodder for the nightmares that haunt me, and will never let me un-see, or un-live them. These are the voices of wisdom from the forefathers who always reminded me to "keep my own nose in my own business." Or, "to not judge others."
When do I intervene? Who is going to find a home where they are loved, and, isn't that all that matters? I don't know anymore? I don't know if "good intentions" are enough?
 |
| Me and my latest "no good deed goes unpunished" saga. His story here |
It is rare to find a happy ending when so many varied ends of the personality chart are involved. Even rarer when a vulnerable young pet is involved, and almost impossible when the county government with their own agendas, restrictions, and noose hold abilities are in the play.
Rare, if not impossible. As of present I have only been fortunate when all others departed, and/or, abandoned the mission willingly.
This is a story about muddling up the lives of those you know need you. The lives that pet parents can't manage safely, and, the appalling tragedies that play out in the judicial system once the parties get sucked in. I have yet to see it end well. It has left me extremely tentative to intervene and even more compellingly paralyzed to turn away. I recognize the tragedy in my tentativeness will cost the ones who I am ethically and morally compelled to intervene on behalf of. I admit that becoming indifferent, accepting that this will never get better for them, and that failing every time previously is accepting defeat for any meaningful change moving forward. Giving up on the hope to have it get better is giving up on the meek and the voiceless.
These are two real-life stories of puppies who in the end were set up to fail on all sides of a custody battle between their families and the laws that are supposed to protect them.
We can't seem to learn this lesson. We have been repeating it for decades, and still, our hearts tell us one thing and our experience and hindsight teach us another.
 |
| Cora. Found wandering the road at the end of my driveway many years ago. She now has a wonderful home. She is one of the few who did soo much better the second time around. |
Last night we repeated our "shame on us" lesson again. A very sweet young guy came in with an equally charming, albeit wired, young black shepherd to say he had found him a few miles away. He had brought him to us for assistance in finding his home. The dog was microchipped and within a few moments we had the information we needed to reunite him with his family.
A phone call was made. “We didn’t know he was missing,” was the first thing the owner said. Probably not a good sign. A quick flash to Facebook revealed an hour old post of another concerned citizen who had posted photos of the dog trying to get in their back patio door. Not a menacing act, not a dangerous dog, just a young smiling dog at a back door looking for options from a kind heart.
When a gruff, ruffled, stoic, and unsettling man showed up at the clinic a short time later without a leashed pet, or carrier, we all feared he was here to collect. He looked like the kind of guy who might sell contraband for fun, and intimidate for spite. Slicked back greasy grey hair, jeans that haven’t been washed in decades, and dirt, lots of dirt. He was scary, intimidating, short tempered and quick with the tongue. All of these he took pride in. None of us wanted to talk to him. We most especially didn’t want him to be here to claim this dog. We should have not called him. We knew that now. It wouldn’t change his ownership rights, but it wouldn’t have had to be us turning the dog over. You just know these things. You can accuse me of judgement, but give me a minute.
When we brought the dog out to him the dog took one look at the owner and his swiftly wagging tail, fell, dropped to his knees and halted in his tracks. That puppy was terrified. Think your dog doesn’t know what kind of human you are? They do. The guy immediately yanked the leash from us. The pup lurched backward, recoiled in fear and trepidation and exhaled a wind of crying moans. He threw the dog into the car as his dog frantically tried to escape from then beat him into submission and willingness.
Where will this go? No where good. He will break that dog into being a biter, or kill him into submission, and that guy who so desperately needs to bully and intimidate to validate his own worth will move on to another dog who looks like a breed he can dominate, this guy wont ever have a cat or a chihuahua his tiny fragile ego wont ever let him love something to earn what unconditional love gives back.
And for those of us at the clinic held horrified and hostage to witnessing this, well we will house these guys and surrender them to the cops at animal control next time. I will never permit the staff to have to witness this again. Let the proper authorities bear witness and decide how to manage the asshat and the victim. At least they keep records of lost pets, make sure they are vaccinated, and put guys like this on the radar. Maybe if he has outstanding warrants for abusing kids he will leave this pup at the shelter for a better chance with another person.
What's the worst part of being a vet? No, it's not the tearful euthanasia as we bid farewell to a companion who was so beloved they have an entourage of sniffles, tears, and stories of a life everyone giggles about as they fondly remember it and sends them to heaven in the loving arms of their family. No, it’s the jerks who never gave a damn about their pets, outside of yelling, or beating them, or training them to be bait, and never will. The asshats who beat, ruin, destroy and produce animals that the BSL laws manifest from. This is the tragedy in being a veterinarian, being complicit to vicious evil people who own your patients and destroy them simply because they can get away with it. Think I'm wrong? The justice system is full of spineless prosecutors. Its not that they don’t know, or see, or hear, they just don’t act.
 |
| My Amish neighbors selling their never dewormed OR vaccinated (mom too) kittens. |
Where do I intervene again? I will never call a microchipped pets owner again unless they are a client. I will only call Animal Control. I will willingly and knowingly subject these pets to perhaps never being picked up at the shelter (many owners refuse to look for them, or, don't think to check there, or, don't want to pay the reclaim fee). These pets might then be put up for adoption, or, they will be euthanized if the shelter deems it necessary. The other potential shelter outcome is exposure to disease an possible death due to that. It is the prayed for hope, which I have seen happen numerous times, that a pet who began in the wrong hands lands the dream adoption and gets their blissfully joyful second chance in a home full of love and devotion.
 |
| Wee Willy. Found as a two week old with a dislocated wrist. He is now part of our JVC rescue. |
The other story that will haunt me for the rest of my days is the puppy who I would meet weeks later in the shelter. His story with me began with an inquiry phone call from the young pups mom to my veterinary clinic as she was trying to find help for her puppy, (all four months old of him), who had been suffering with a broken leg for over a week.
This is a clear cut and simple case of 'no good deed going unpunished'. It is also another small whispering reminder that I need to start to listening to. I need to leave well enough alone and remember that bad cases can evolve into worst cases quickly. And, that unknowingly, un-wantingly and unwillingly these can escalate out of your hands into full blown disasters with the spark of a prelude in good intentions.
This puppy's story began with a phone call to the clinic. A cryptic phone call about a puppy with a broken leg who needed help the owners couldn't afford. As in all cases like this when we have a client we don't know and a puppy we know needs help, we start with an in clinic examination. We go from there. In many cases we can make miracles from intentions. It didn't start here. An appointment for the examination was made, and then no one showed. We called to see why? No answer. No answer for repeated attempts for days.
Worry set in. We worried for as long as we could quietly. That worry turned into a phone call to Animal Control. They visited the puppies home. They found a puppy with an obviously broken leg who hadn't been seen by a veterinarian and the puppy was ordered to be brought to a vet within 48 hours. We were called again and this time we offered to help with an examination for free. The puppy, sweet, happy, playful, excited to see new people, had an old fracture. So old it wouldn't be likely to heal without significant and possibly repeated bone plates from a boarded orthopedic surgeon. This constituted as neglect in the eyes of Animal Control. The puppy was essentially seized by Animal Control as they mounted a case for neglect against the owners. The puppy was left at the shelter where he stayed locked in a cage for months. Over that time I saw him turn from a happy socially outgoing and sweet, albeit lame, puppy into an emotionally neglected pit bull with fear based aggression. He was euthanized due to behavior issues, with his still broken leg, a few months later. He would have been better off with a bum leg and a family who loved him. We, with the best of intentions, killed him. I see his face behind those double caged bars to this day.
This is the real life a veterinarian leads. It is the fodder for the nightmares that haunt me, and will never let me un-see, or un-live them. These are the voices of wisdom from the forefathers who always reminded me to "keep my own nose in my own business." Or, "to not judge others."
When do I intervene? Who is going to find a home where they are loved, and, isn't that all that matters? I don't know anymore? I don't know if "good intentions" are enough?
 |
| My Fripp. Who always reminds me to smile even when life is all seemingly lemons. |
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