Aviary Updates

I continue to be perplexed about cities. Where in the world do people park all the cars that seem to emerge like thousands of beetles piling onto one another every day at 4:00 pm? There are about 5,000 roads that all lead to the same places, and I think this has to do with needing space for the beetles to sprawl, or else they truly would begin to pile and end up toppling over the edge of the big yellow bridges into the river. I used to use time to destination as a description of the rural-ness of my home town. I would exclaim that it took twenty minutes to go to Wal-mart, which for me is an indication that Wal-mart is fifteen miles away, and thus I live in a small town. I now realize that describing things in units of time rather than distance was foolish. It takes twenty minutes to travel two miles in a city, and so this unit of time meant absolutely nothing impressive.

I found some refuge in a nature preserve today--an old farm that possesses about 5 miles of hiking trails. While the going was easy in this relatively flat landscape, it did comfort me to be surrounded by trees and green and to watch wild animals and not hear cars for a few hours.

Things at my internship have been going fairly well recently. We had two sad and serious emergency cases that I assisted in. The first case feels too grave to write of. The second was a baby boat-billed heron that fell from his nest along with a sibling. Despite intensive treatments, emergency drugs, and CPR, one of the two chicks died. I performed the necropsy and was confronted with massive internal hemorrhaging, due to various organ damages, including a fractured liver. (I'd never seen a fractured liver before). Thankfully, the second chick was less critical on presentation, and with the help of the vet staff is now doing fabulous. He will soon leave ICU and return to his home exhibit in a small cage for observation for a while until he is ready to be released into the larger exhibit. This scenario is not a unique one among captive birds. In the wild, birds fall out of the nest regularly, and they die. It may be because they are not healthy, and can't properly keep themselves in the nest. It may be because they are unhealthy or not neurologically sound, and the parents push them, because they are not viable offspring. It may be caused by another bird flying over or attempted predation. It may be pure accident. Whatever the cause, it is not unnatural for a baby bird to fall from a nest. Hand-rearing all babies born in captivity could prevent nest accidents, but is not in the best interest of the birds. Babies do best when they are raised by their parents and taught natural behaviors of their species. Babies raised by humans often suffer from imprinting, and become confused about their identity. Confused birds often lash out against humans or are overly-friendly with them in adulthood, making them unsuitable for a zoo situation. While sad to have lost this baby, I am thankful the sibling survived and that it can go back to its home very soon. Isn't it just precious?

I've been enjoying following some of our resident patients who stay off exhibit permanently due to chronic conditions. Bam continues to be adorable, and we have found that if you play a seriema call on your phone, he will call back to it. Here he is getting a physical exam to check on how his arthritis pain is doing.

Two of our chronic cases of bumble foot that we are treating are coming along nicely. Bumblefoot is also known as pododermatitis. Basically, the skin on the bottom of the foot becomes infected. It is a common problem of bird in captivity. Basically, the bottom of the bird's feet get irritated for any number of reasons from rough perching to being on their feet more than they would in the wild to wet floors, etc. The irritated skin is susceptible to infection with resident Staph bacteria. Further tissue trauma can lead to infection with other bacteria or yeast. Management of bumblefoot can be intensive and take a long time, but I am pleased to say that our two cases that we are treating several times a week with new bandages, topical debriding, flushing, antibiotics, antifungals, and soft footing in their enclosures are healing nicely. There is still a long road ahead, but watching that pink, fresh granulation tissue start to fill in the area is very satisfying.

We've been doing some yearly physical exams on penguins lately. These little guys are so well behaved. They attend birthday parties here, and have been on TV more than once lately due to the Pittsburgh Penguins winning the Stanley Cup. They walk onto the scale for us before our exam and walk back into their crates. The only time they aren't exactly angels is during blood draws. We have to get blood from penguins from a vein that runs across the top of their foot. Their feathers are way too dense to be able to get blood from a wing vein or from the jugular, so the foot is the best option. However, they tend to kick alot right before the needle goes in. It makes for a frustrating experience, but the talented vets here are quick on the draw, and we have been able to get blood on all the penguins I have assisted with thus far. Here's one of the girls getting weighed in a bucket. She didn't want to stand still on the scale so she had to be contained.

The sloth continues to be adorable, and he is growing very fast. He's now producing poops every two days or so! (An adult sloth in the wild poops about once every 7 days, but he's growing fast now). Let me tell you, sloth poop is stinky, people. I adore the little creature, but doing his laundry is not a favorite chore of mine.

Speaking of laundry...I found a recent quote that really appealed to me. I think many people don't recognize that the nature of zoo medicine is one where your patients live with you. Not only are we responsible for their healthcare, but for their feeding, sleeping, breeding, and cleaning. This involvement allows for really comprehensive medical care, and I really appreciate that part of the job, but it also can have its frustrations. The quote is from the book "Life at the Zoo," which I am currently reading.

"The zoo is like a living creature, demanding to be fed, bathed, and nurtured in a daily ritual of reincarnation." 

Each morning, the routine begins again. All is scrubbed from yesterdays mess and made ready for the new mess of today. You get to know the patients on an intimate level, and for better or worse, they come to know you on an intimate level, as well.

Petting an Elephant [and other, less important, things].

I've been trying to take time to love myself. I both do that to an insane degree and not at all in vet school. While I absorb myself in my goals and my dreams and my work, I often forget to remember that I am more than my career choice. I went to a restaurant by myself tonight. I've never done that. But I got home from work, starved and not feeling at all up to cooking, and dying to get out of my little apartment that has become my world other than work, so I went to a restaurant down the street. I'm tipsy from my one blue moon. I blame this on the severe dehydration I experience at work, despite drinking tons of water. However, the intoxication is good, because it has encouraged me to write when little else has recently. So, anyway, I ate by myself. I always look at people eating alone (especially old people) in restaurants and my heart feels like it's breaking. I think that's the extrovert in me. I assume they are lonely and sad and wish for company, because that is my general way. My dinner alone was not too bad, though. I spoke to my two barstool neighbors, both men older than me. The first was nice and polite, the second was drunk as a skunk and chattering on about things that made no sense at all. But I found him entertaining, and I enjoyed my beer and chicken tenders. I needed a good meal after this week.

I think I'm finding it hard to write because I can't be fully honest on here. I'm not good at not being fully honest. I must explain those stories and feelings which are good and pleasant.  So, I think to focus myself to the task at hand, I will write 10 good things that have happened since I last wrote. 

1. I got to pet an elephant! I went to the zoo the other day by myself in the ninety degree weather, and I had the best time ever. I got to observe elephants and a tiger swimming in their ponds. I watched a baby gorilla slyly tap his dad on the shoulder and go running so when the dad turned he didn't see the child. Classic trick, gorilla baby. I watched monkeys grooming and sharks swimming and lions lounging. And I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I saw a sign saying that I could have my picture taken with an elephant for money, and it was in fifteen minutes. I grabbed a quick ice cream cone and waited diligently for my chance to take a picture with an elephant. When I got up to the front of the line, the woman said, "Just you?" And I proudly handed her my token showing that I had paid and said, "Yes!" (As if you need a companion to take a picture with an elephant...psh!) I had watched timid families standing a few feet away from Victoria (I had asked her name) and gently touching an ear when allowed to pet her. I came up and exuberantly started scratching her face and talking to her and feeling my heart positively explode with joy. It has been a few years since I have touched an elephant. I wish I could do it every day. They are so majestic and wonderful and ah! 

2. The baby sloth, Valentino. Every morning, when I come in, I go and say hi to the sweetest little being ever. He's typically wrapped up in his sleeping box, underneath his blue blanket. I say, "Good morning sweet baby," and he, in slow sloth manner, gently raises the blanket from one eye, then gently from the other and looks sleepily at me. Some mornings he has been grumpy when woken, and showed me his teeth before pulling the blanket over his head again. Other mornings, he climbs out of his nest and starts hanging on the bars and making adorable squeaking noises. He has the world's tiniest pupils. I am so excited when his trainers come in to work with him, teaching him how to climb on his portable tree-like apparatus for encounters. He has a variety of treats to reward him, but he prefers to eat his boiled egg and doesn't often want to touch his vegetables. I'm not allowed to touch him. His trainers are working to keep him from bonding dependently on humans. However, my little chats with him in the morning, and just watching him be this slow little snuggly baby make my heart joyful. 

3.  This call duck named Milo. I don't know what it is about this little sassafras that wants to eat all our faces and take over the world that I love so much. She hates everyone but herself. She loves to look in her mirror and watch her sleek white body glide across her pond. She loves to make a mess of her food, and gets incredibly impatient if it is not presented to her immediately. She has a tiny, incessant quack-quack-quack that is meant to be threatening to us humans, but is actually pretty adorable sounding. When you have to do anything with her, such as move her into a crate to clean her cage, or even just put new water in with her, she goes full attack mode. She flings her little body at your hands and arms with that quack-quack-quack and starts nipping you all over with her bill. Her bites pinch, but not too bad. She considers herself to be the star of this show and to control all of us, and yet she is tiny and adorable and can't do much harm. I believe its her never-dying bold spirit that I am so in love with. 

4. The African grey parrots. We have two of them. Earl Grey and Zane Grey. They absolutely amaze me. They can both speak, and they like to imitate various workers at the aviary, often repeating "Hello, Earl" in various voices. They make phone text message alerts that sound so real you often check your phone. Early particularly likes to sing, and when I am cleaning in his room, we often spend the morning matching pitch on little 3-4 note songs he makes up. He doesn't much like to repeat my songs, so I usually just end up repeating his creations. They are so intelligent and beautiful, and they both amaze me. 

5. A sweet crested coua named Brad. This is another bird that I've grown quite fond of. He has a malformed foot and is kept with us because he needs special bandages to protect that foot. He has gorgeous blue eyeliner and a tiny grey mowhawk. He stays in his cage while you are cleaning it, and the first time I stuck my head in there, he perched in my hair. He gets a little mouse (dead) with his breakfast, and he prefers to take it out of my hand rather than fly down to retrieve it. I bend to his wishes because he has alot of personality. 

6. A winery trip and visit to my landlord's house. My landlord is a sweet old Italian man who loves good food as much as I do. I believe I mentioned him taking me to a delicious restaurant previously. A few days ago, the other people who live in my house and me drove out of the city and met him at a really cool winery near his house. We sat outside under an arch way that had grape vines crawling up it, right beside a babbling stone fountain, and enjoyed bottles of fruity wine and delicious pasta. After dinner, he was determined to show me his little farm. I felt as if I were in a novel, and he were an eccentric character. The farm house was a typical white two-story, but inside was not typical at all. On his dining room table sat several jars of little candies, all of which he tried to send us home with. On his walls, from floor to ceiling, even going up the stairs and into the second floor, were pictures and paintings. His mother in law was an artist, apparently, and as he had heard that I like to paint, proceeded to show me every one of the eighty or so original paintings of hers hung all over the house. He also wanted to explain his pictures, They were all held in a manner that he specifically explain to me as an economical way to hang pictures. Various 5x7s had been taped to a piece of thick poster board and covered over with a sheet of plexiglass. The plexiglass was held to the poster board with huge binder clips on each side. Beside his bed, he had three large dog beds for his one old arthritic dog named Sandy, who clearly adored him. What areas of the house didn't contain modest furniture one might expect to see in a flea market were covered in stacks and stacks of books. He told me his life history, of his late wife, of his travels, and many many acquaintances. This precious act of trust and need for companionship that allowed him to invite us into his home absolutely touched my heart. 

7. My new pet mouse. I was feeling quite whimsical after my trip to the zoo and aquarium the other day, and I decided that I needed a fish to take care of. I'm always wanting something to take care of, and I missed having a pet with me. I traveled to the pet store after the zoo and spent some time looking at fish equipment. It was all fairly expensive, and I have a really bad track record and keeping fish alive for long. I gave up on the idea and was merely perusing the small rodents, when I saw a little black mouse with a note on his cage saying he was two years old (mice only live to be about 3) and had been dropped at the humane society. Wouldn't you love to let him spend his twilight years with you? I think it was the use of the words "twilight years" (or maybe I just have a problem, but I'm not trying to admit that here now). Needless to say, I ended up deciding I must adopt this little senior mouse. Okay, fine, I have a problem. Back home, I have the absolute works to take care of rodents. I had made my gerbils the Taj Mahal of gerbils when I had them. However, that stuff is back home. So what did I do? I spent the last of my meager savings purchasing things I already have in order to adopt a mouse that will probably live less than a year. But he's sweet and happy and makes tunnels in his bedding all night long. I haven't handled him too much yet, because I want him to get settled in, but alas, I am with another pet. I think this will be my constant exclamation over the years. Not, "I am with child," but "I am with pet...again." 

8. Learning that Daisy is doing amazing. As reports would have it, my sneaky bread and butter-loving dog who before I left on this trip was hospitalized for eating one whole pound of Crisco, and who can open child-locks and twist tops and any cabinet in front of her, has apparently not eaten anything other than her regular food since I left. I am in utter shock over this fact. Makes me almost worry she doesn't miss me at all, since she's not acting out....but truly, I am SO pleased to hear she has been behaving herself and is doing well with my family back home on the farm. I miss her more than words can tell. 

9. Talking to my boyfriend each night. I can consider this one act to be the primary factor in my sanity over these few weeks. Being away from home in a big city with a new job has left me on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, and even from afar, it's as if he's sitting beside me, not screaming or laughing, but looking only at me, ever steady,  holding my hand and promising me everything will be okay. We watch television together on the phone and he listens to me ramble on and on about little details from work. He wakes in the middle of the night to my messages when I have a bad dream to soothe me back to sleep. I think I'd forgotten a bit how truly blessed I am until I was away and desperately needed his comfort. I absolutely love that man to pieces. 

10. The beautiful churches. One thing I will give Pittsburgh, even though they are dirty and crowded and strange as all cities are to me, they have some stunningly gorgeous architecture, most exuberantly shown in their churches and temples. It seems that every corner I turn, my eyes can light upon some glorious feat of design, and I am thankful for it. 

New City Summer and Bird Medicine

I don't know that I'm cut out for all this. You read those books about women who traipse out across the world alone to find themselves and find happiness, and it all sounds so whimsical when written about at the end of the journey. Once you're safe and home and looking back, everything doesn't seem so bad. You can focus on the good and what you learned. But gosh darn it if the first bit doesn't hurt like hell.

I'm just gonna lay it out there. I'm in some pretty solid emotional pain. I miss my boyfriend, my dog, my family, and my country life. Living in a new city alone is scary. I'm lonely. Making friends takes some time, and getting up the gusto to go out and do stuff after getting up at 5 am  and getting home at 5 pm is hard. The last two days, I've come home and cried until I could talk to my boyfriend, whom I have kept on the phone until I'm sleepy enough for bed, and then I have another decent cry before falling into fitful sleep. Stuff gets better. Yeah, I know that. However, the depth of pain I feel for that first few days and weeks makes me question whether this dream chasing life is worth it.

Cities are strange places. When I first came out of the tunnel and onto the yellow bridge that led me into Pittsburgh, I was taken with some sense of awe and excitement. It looked foreign and the buildings reflecting in the river seemed pleasant. I got moved into my apartment...of sorts. For my first week here I am in a 3rd floor apartment alone, until I move to a bigger room with a roommate at the first of the month. Anyway, this place is definitely less nice than I'm used to, it's in a busy area where I constantly hear people working or talking or driving outside, my shower is under a slanted roof, which requires me to hang the curtain by a hook to keep it from sliding down and I've cracked my head more than once while washing myself, and finally, I found a jug of what I'm almost certain is old pee under the sink. Very questionable. But I have a bed and water and an A/C unit, and so I feel I can't complain too much.

Photo credit: blog.emergingscholars.org

My first day here, I needed to go get groceries. I don't think people in cities do this activity like I am used to. Where I am from, you go into a huge store with a huge parking lot, grab a shopping cart, and stock up on supplies for a week or two of living. Here, I had to park inside a parking garage and ride an elevator, of all things, down INTO the grocery store. I use the term grocery store, but this place had only the bare essentials, with (at most) 2 different brands of items to choose from. And they were brands I'd never heard of. I needed a cart to get food for a week. However, two police officers were guarding the carts, and they were all chained together. I contemplated trying to carry my items because I was nervous about this cart situation, but after carrying a loaf of bread around aimlessly, I sucked it up and approached the police officers for help. They instructed me to put a quarter into the shopping cart to get it out. "Where?" I asked. They had to do it for me. Turns out, when you put a quarter in, the shopping cart becomes unchained to the others, and you get your quarter back when you return the cart. Seems odd, seeing as someone who is willing to steal a shopping cart probably isn't too worried about losing one quarter. Anyway, that was weird. Then, I go to check out and guess what? They don't bag your stuff for you. There aren't even bags in the store. The cashier checked out my items at lightening speed and threw them into the basket aggressively, and I was terrified a stray can would crush my bread. I then had to go find an empty box in the store and use it to transport my goods. Which, I could not carry because I had too many. I had to approach the cop again. Thankfully, there was a return for the shopping carts at the top of the elevator, and I was able to unload the things into my car before giving the cart back and retrieving my quarter. I also have a sneaking suspicion about all foods from Pennsylvania. Every trip I've been on to this state, and it's been probably over 100 times now, I've noticed this slight almost milky taste to all the foods. I have NO IDEA what it's coming from, but it turns out my boyfriend agrees with me. I know there are lots of dairy cows in PA, but what is this magic?

There's alot of construction and old buildings and run down crumbly things in cities. Grass is hard to come by, and when I see a place that has a park or something, I have NO idea where I'm supposed to put my car to get there. There is no parking anywhere. I miss being able to walk out my door and have a yard to sit in. I don't get much solitude on my rusty fire escape. Traffic is pretty yucky in the afternoons when I am coming home from work.

There are some good things, though. The University of Pittsburgh, which is right in front of my house, has some gorgeous buildings. I've been taking my daily runs by them, and I keep stopping for pictures like a true tourist. There seem to be some cool things to do on my days off, like museums and the zoo and festivals. Beyonce is gonna be here Tuesday, and I'm hoping I can hear her concert from my house...Heinz field is not TOO far away. I went to the Carnegie Natural History and Art museum my first full day here, and they had some really good exhibits on dinosaurs, gems and crystals, Native Americans, ancient Egypt, and of course tons of wonderful art.

Work has been mostly just training on cleaning and husbandry so far, but I have been able to observe some procedures. The vet staff takes care of the sick birds, as well as birds who are off exhibit and have special needs in terms of medical problems or disabilities. Many birds at the aviary get frequent bandage changes for one reason or another. Some have chronic foot infections, others had a previous trauma that has left them with only one limb or deformed limbs. Several get daily medications for their conditions. These birds are all happy and can eat and sing and fly around, they just wouldn't be able to be in big enclosures where other birds could bully them for being different. So far, I have seen 3 big cases. One was a prolapsed cloaca in a bird, and I was excited to see how the case was treated very similarly to a ruminant or horse prolapse. "One medicine," they keep saying, but the cleaning of the tissues, moisturizing them, reducing swelling with sugar solution, and replacing the tissue were all the same. Thankfully, this bird didn't need sutures to hold in the prolapse once reduced, but that was an option if necessary. Birds can prolapse for many reasons. They may have a gastrointestinal disease or internal blockage, such as an egg that won't pass, which causes them to strain significantly. Forced straining can lead to expulsion of the tissue inside the body where it should be. We did various tests to see what is going on with this bird and are awaiting the results. I also saw a bird who had gotten a piece of string wrapped around its leg in its exhibit and needed the string removed. Thankfully, the keepers noticed the issue very early, and the foot was still in very good condition. The vet removed the string and gave some pain medication, and we monitored the bird overnight to make sure he was able to grip with the foot where the constriction was. He was doing great in the morning and got to go back to his exhibit. Today, I saw a case of bumble foot in an owl. Bumble foot is a condition that particularly happens in captive birds, and can also be referred to as ulcerative pododermatitis. What happens typically is that wear on the bottom of the feet from artifical perching material or birds being on wet concrete, etc, leads to irritation on the skin of the foot. In the irritated portions, bacteria, usually Staphylococcus, enters and causes an infection. Other agents of disease, such as fungus, can enter this infected tissue and complicate matters. Severe bumble foot can even end up leading to bone infection. Bumble foot is insanely hard to get rid of. Some things that can be done to help in treating include padding perching and surfaces where the birds will be, regular cleaning of the infected tissues and removing dead tissue, as well as applying anti-inflammatories and antibiotics to the site, and keeping it padded and wrapped to standing is more comfortable for the bird. The case we had today was fairly severe, and is going to require intensive long-term management. In some ways, bumble foot reminds me of laminitis in horses. The chronicity, difficulty in treating, differing susceptibility of individuals, consideration that birds must bear weight on their feet at all times like horses, and treatments are all similar. "One medicine" again.

We shall see what the rest of the week brings!

Devon Skies.

I should have taken the time out to write about Devon. I should have sat down the day after it happened when the wretched sting of shock had somewhat worn into grieving. But I was in the throws of my second year classes...and I channeled my tears into toils over my studies and pushed through the semester. But now, as I sit alone in a new city, missing the people and places I call home, I realize sweet Devon deserves my time. He deserves the careful crafting of words that both hurt and heal. And honestly, I deserve it too. I get so caught up in the difficulty of veterinary school that I forget to be kind to everyone, including myself.

Devon was, in many ways, the perfect horse. He may not have been the fairest gelding in the field, but he had the most pure and loving heart. He had a joy for all things--particularly running fast, bucking, rolling, and eating any and all treats presented before him. He had a gentle curiosity that would lead him to follow you around the field whether you wanted him to or not. And he never let you out of reach of his soft muzzle and smacking lips, which were constantly at your pockets looking for more treats. That horse never showed his age when I rode him. I owned him from when he was 16-28, and the whole time he still acted like a 2 year old under saddle. He always wanted to go go go. He had a terrible habit of throwing his head up at me in angst when I forced him to walk or trot and he wanted to canter or gallop (which was always). Once, I foolishly thought I would allow him to go full speed up a steep hill at the end of our ride.  The first 20 seconds were absolutely glorious. I gripped his mane and felt as if I were on wings as we catapulted above the ground. But as we got closer to fence, I realized Devon wasn't slowing down. At the very last second, he leaned back with full force and skidded sideways up to the side of the fence, somewhat like fast cars do in movies. However, unlike fast cars in movies, I lacked a seat belt and went tumbling over Devon's side, along with the saddle. It was about that moment that I remembered the fence was lined with barbed wire. I looked down to see my white breeches torn and soaked with blood all along the back of my leg.  I promptly passed out. When I awoke some minutes later, it was to find Devon quietly munching grass beside me, with his saddle hanging from his belly and his bridle still on. He gave me an inquisitive look like, "So, why do I still have this tack on?" and I gathered my senses enough to remove it from him. I couldn't call my mom, this being in a time before cell phones were commonplace, so I forced myself to look away from the sight of my leg and limp up the driveway from the barn to my house. I had many cuts that had bled alot, but they were fairly superficial, and I didn't need stitches. I have one good sized scar from it today, but the rest have faded. Though it caused me pain, it is one of my favorite memories of him. The rushing headlong into fun and only slowing when absolutely necessary, as well as the watching over of a crumpled me, are so quintessentially Devon.

The day I lost him was heartbreaking and terrible. I woke up to a missed call and a text from my father saying, "Please call me immediately. Devon is down." I had lived for some years in fear of this text. I always used to tell Artex but not Devon, "Please don't die on me while I'm away at college," because I always just felt Devon would live to be 40. But ever since I lost Artex last June, every missed call from my dad would make my heart skip a beat. One week before I lost Devon, I started having various nightmares about him being taken from me while I had no power to help him. The night before I got the dreaded text,I had a dream early in the night about Artex. He was talking to me in a field. When I woke, I felt the most acute pang of sadness for missing Artex and for my Devon. I sat up crying in my bed while Zack held me. I can't remember what Artex said in the dream, but it must have been about Devon. I can't explain what power allowed that interaction, but I think it was a sign. The morning after the dream, as soon as I got on the phone with my dad, I knew the situation was grave. Devon was found lying in the field, and the only part of him that was moving was a twitching upper lip. Devon's normal vet was out of town, and so another was to come out to see him. Zack and I jumped in the car and started driving home immediately. On the car ride home, I got a call from the veterinarian saying that he couldn't make a diagnosis on Devon with his physical alone, but that he was fading fast. We continued to trudge onward to home. I didn't expect him to make it until I got there.

When I arrived at the pasture edge, jumped the fence, and tore down the hill to see my baby, the sight of him nearly stopped my heart. He was completely stiff in his legs, and his head and neck were seizing. His eyes rolled in their sockets and that soft sweet lip that always searched for treats shook on and on. I bent down and lay myself across his neck. I stroked his face and told him, " You can let go now love, please go see Artex." Within one minute, his body relaxed, he took a last heaving breath, and he left this world. It was during this time that I seemed to become aware that my mother, father, and Zack were also around. They all expressed their sadness differently. Mom was frantically talking about how he waited on me, she just knew it, because of how he relaxed when I spoke. My dad was silent and watchful. Zachary was quietly crying to himself. I looked upon those who have shaped who I am, including Devon. It meant the world that they were there for me, but I then asked them to step away for a moment. I needed my minute with a creature who had also shaped my life as much as they had, and I hope that I also shaped his life. I curled up there on his neck, taking the fetal position, and felt both incredibly young and incredibly old at the same time. Twelve years of perfect friendship and understanding were wrapped in that moment, and I let my tears pour all over his mane as they had so many times before.

My two beautiful horses are one of the major reasons I am where I am today. I left the barn one evening years ago, smelling of sweat and hay and manure, and I realized that I was completely and utterly happy. If I could be covered in the scents of animals and have worked hard for several hours and be happy, I knew exactly what I needed to do with my life. In that epiphany, when I was 17, I decided that I would work with everything in my being to be a veterinarian to help animals. And I am still working as hard as I can. As Emerson would say, I feel that when all my arrows are spent, I will throw my body at the mark of my goal. Sometimes I still can't believe my parents granted my crazy wish of wanting a horse when I was 12 years old. Deep down, I believe they knew what they were giving me was far more than what I was asking for. Those two horses gave me determination, taught me what hard work was, allowed me to fly across fields, gave me someone to talk to when I was happy or sad or angry, and ultimately planted within me a seed of love for all creatures that I carry with me today. Devon and Artex are in my heart always. Devon's loss came unexpectedly, and I was not prepared for it. But truly, we are never prepared for death. Even when it was Artex, and I made the decision, I wasn't prepared for the flooding of memories, the pain, and ultimately, I hope, the peace I will gain in losing something so important. Until then, sweet boys, run free and eat every banana in your path.

Artex.

Friday: 
And so it should be that as one journey is about to begin, another is ending. I was not originally intending to write again until my upcoming trip to South Africa, but the aching in my heart necessitates it.

I got my horse, Private Artex, 11 years ago. He came with a tag along horse buddy, who has grown to be his best friend in the world, Devon. But to be honest, Artex was my prized gift from my generous parents. I was 12 and had been taking riding lessons for a year. I had fallen in love with horses, and desired one of my own. As I wrote in my 12 year old journal, "At first I didn't like Artex. He bit me and was misbehaving while I led him around." However, after encouragement from my riding instructor that he was indeed a lovely and well-trained horse, I decided to have him and Devon to stay at my house for a month to try them out. As my journal said, "Boy! What a difference four weeks can make!" I truly fell in love with this graceful animal over that time period. He had been showed in dressage, a discipline of riding that focuses on an animals ability to perform maneuvers gracefully and with great attention to their riders wishes. However, in the few years before I acquired him, he had grown mighty fat and lazy. Over those four weeks, I rode him twice a day, and we really grew together as horse and rider. He lost quite a bit of weight, and I gained quite a bit of experience in riding. Lets just say he took alot of coaxing to do what I wanted him to.

And he continued to be that way for the rest of his life. He was always a very stubborn horse, who only did something if you begged him to. However, when he did finally perform, it was with such effortless grace that you immediately forgave him. Inevitably, I ended up buying him and Devon after that first month, and I relished in the first summer I spent riding them around my farm, learning to jump old logs, falling off, getting back on again, scrubbing tack, and so many other things, including learning to clean their sheaths (if you don't know what that it, just look it up- I was horrified at that age!). I learned so much responsibility and felt such a deep connection to these horses. I kept a little radio in the barn if they were up for the day, and I played them the local country station for company. I carried a portable radio with me that I would always turn to the same station, so even though we were apart, we could be listening to the same thing. It sounds a bit cheesy now, but it truly was this blossoming affection that taught me much about how it feels to love. I was blessed to learn at a young age.

Three years after I had initially brought Artex into my home, he developed a painful condition of the hooves called laminitis. Inflammation of soft tissue in the hoof can cause separation of that soft tissue from the hard hoof wall, and it is incredibly painful. There are many possible causes of laminitis, and many different degrees of damage it can cause. Artex's first experience was relatively quick to clear up with stall rest and anti-inflammatory drugs, but it is often the case that horses who "founder" (develop laminitis from intake of too much grass), tend to do it again. After the initial episode, Artex had some trouble during the summer months with his feet, and he would have to be put in the barn, so he would eat only hay and rest. Devon had to come with him, because they are very attached and will not tolerate separation for any length of time. The two boys were always very grumpy about their time in the barn. They much preferred the pasture where they could run and play and eat delicious grass. They would stamp their hooves and chew the stall doors and nicker to high heaven when I would come down to feed them, just begging "Let us free from this prison!" Other than summer, Artex always did very well. Without the lush green grass, his laminitis trigger, his pain was at a minimum and his life was happy. This continued for several years.

This past winter, Artex developed a deep and painful abscess in the bottom of his hoof. Due to the location and severity, his laminitis flared up terribly, and he was very lame. I had to come home on several weekends from veterinary school for his appointments and treatments. His foot had to be soaked daily, he required pain medication and his antibiotics regularly, and his dressings had to be changed out. Over those eight weeks, the abscess healed nicely, but the pain in his hooves did not. We bought special shoes with padded soles that helped him feel better for a while, but they eventually lost their comfort for him. A few weeks ago, we switched him to horse shoes put on backwards in order to give his hoof support and allow him to walk in a more natural position. He has been on pain medication every day for weeks. Despite our best efforts, Artex has just not been getting better. His pain as become very severe and he spends several hours of the day lying down. When he isn't lying down, he is hurting. It has been a sobering few weeks for me to see him in such a state. A few days ago, I made one of the most difficult decisions of my life, which will be carried out tomorrow. Artex is going to be euthanized. The bad days are outweighing the good at this point, and I want him to be free of his suffering. To keep him here would be only for selfish reasons, and that is not right. This has been a painful few days for me, but also a peaceful few. I've spent many hours just talking to him, telling him how excited he should be because soon he can run free once again. While it breaks my heart to be losing him, it also heals it to know he will no longer be in pain. I'm watching him in the field now. I've let him out without his grazing muzzle, letting him spend his last night enjoying as much grass as he wants. He's walking around gingerly, Devon never too far behind, and they are consuming the grass that has fed them for so many years. Soon, his remains will provide nutrients for that same grass, and so the circle goes. Five baby groundhogs are playing in the field over where his grave will be. They are the promise of new life even when life is lost. They, and his beautiful dark form, as it moves across the bright green grass in the setting sun, give me a sense of surety in what I have decided to do. I'm scared, but I'm ready, too.

Saturday: 
The morning started in a beautiful way. As the fog was just lifting, I walked down to see Artex and Devon, grazing side by side in the field, cloaked in the mist and rising sun behind them.

I gathered them and took them to the barn. Stubborn to the last, Artex would not allow me to groom him unless he was allowed to graze the whole time. I complied. I had bought 22 red and white roses (to symbolize his years on the earth) with intentions to braid them into his mane. I completed the braid, but as I put in one rose, I turned around to suddenly find it gone. I repeated the procedure twice until I caught Devon in the act of consuming the roses sneakily as I put them in. I decided to save the roses for the grave.

My mother came, and we walked the horses up to the grave site to wait for the vet. The walk up the hill to the spot under the old oak tree was a long and painful one for Artex.  I let him on a long lead, allowing him to enjoy all the lush grass he wanted. I talked gently to him, promising the pain would be over soon. He and Devon constantly implored me for treats, and I fed them the bunch of bananas I had bought for the occasion.

When the vet pulled up, I told him I would like to leave with Devon after the sedation. I had not cried all morning, but when I saw him holding the syringe, the tears flowed freely.

I hugged Artex, patted him, kissed him, and promised I would love him forever, and as he began to get sleepy from the drugs, I walked down the hill with Devon to the barn. I looked back at my living boy one last time to see the bright morning sun behind him, the oak leaning over him, and the relaxed peace of sleep lowering his head. It was beautiful.  We waited for a few minutes  in the barn until we received the call saying he was gone. Up until that minute, Devon had remained calm, but as if he somehow knew he had lost his friend, he suddenly began to cry out in great anguish, throwing himself against the stall doors and pacing wildly. I broke to the floor crying to see his pain. The vet came down and gave Devon a little medicine to calm him down. Once he was calm, I walked him up to Artex and let him sniff his body. He placed his muzzle gently against his friends, and let out a sigh. I had my father take him back to the pasture, and I laid down with Artex's body. His eyes, half open, glistened. I stroked his muzzle, and asked him to promise to watch over Devon. I kissed him goodbye, cried with him, and then walked to Devon as I allowed him to be buried. When the burial was finished, I hiked back up the hill with my roses and the cross that would mark his grave. We put it in the ground, and said a few words. I've spent the last few hours with Devon, who has at least calmed down enough to start eating- but he keeps whinnying for Artex and looking to the hill where we laid him to rest. My heart feels at peace for Artex, but it aches for Devon, and I hope he can find his own peace soon.

Delighting in things wonderful

My dearest readers,

It would seem that I have been on quite a hiatus lately from the old blog. But alas, it is time for my fingers to return to the keys of my computer and for my mind to return to thoughts of animals and experiences and beauty.

I have some wonderful news to share.

I am officially going to be a veterinarian!

Saying these words fills my heart with an inexplicable watery rose-tinted bliss that threatens to pour out of my eyes or mouth in tears or shouts at nearly every instant.

I am in the current process of deciding what veterinary school to attend next year. I have gotten into four, these being:

Virginia-Maryland Regional CVM (at Virginia Tech)
The Ohio State University CVM
University of Tennessee Knoxville CVM
Saint George's University CVM

P.S. for those of you who aren't familiar, CVM stands for college of veterinary medicine.

My heart is terribly torn between the schools.

To improvise William Carlos Williams' poem: 

so much depends
upon

a brick building

glazed with rain
water

where i can study white
chickens.

I will be making my decision within the month, and from there, I will be dropping in periodically to elaborate on the joyous whirlwind of preparing for veterinary school. And is to be certain, I will have many a story to tell once I am there. 

Working at a small animal clinic

Well, I've started a new chapter in my story on becoming a veterinarian. This summer, I am working at a small animal medical clinic near my hometown. As many of you know, working inside isn't exactly my cup of tea, but I think it is also quite apparent that I love animals to death and can be quite happy with them anywhere. So, I step into something new to expand my knowledge.

I've volunteered at a few small animal clinics over the years, and worked for several months as a receptionist in one, but I have never worked as a technician. For any of you who don't know, a technician is essentially a veterinary nurse. They are the ones who talk to you about your pets problems, administer vaccines, and get temperatures and weights before the vet comes in to speak with you. I won't solely be performing this job over the summer--I will pretty much be a floater, working wherever the clinic needs an extra set o hands, but technician work will be part of it.

I've completed one week of working, and I've enjoyed myself. The clinic is a small one, with only one doctor who works there. We have a reception desk, small waiting area, and two rooms for seeing patients in the front. In the back, where only employees go, are the grooming area, treatment room, surgery room, ICU, x-ray, and kennel area. The doctor is an older gentleman, with a kind face and a bit of a blunt personality. The rest of the staff are women, most of us quite young, and it makes for an interesting environment to work in, very caring and light-hearted. Our clinic mascot is a nineteen year old cat whose thin skin and sparse hair seems tensely stretched over her old, pointy bones. She has big, yellow eyes, and a feeble but determined meow. She gets fluids given under her skin twice a day to keep her kicking, and she has an obsession with fast food. She has a tendency to be a very picky eater, and at this age, we humor that tendency. If she is not pleased with the food presented to her, she will follow the feeder around the clinic all day meowing expectantly, as if to say, "I am the queen, where is my salisbury steak?" I enjoy her immensely.

The days have not been too whirlwind yet, as the true summer busy season hasn't begun. I've given a few baths, helped with a few shots, cleaned kennels (one which I came into early morning full of explosive diarrhea--gross!), and worked the front desk. There is one particularly good story from the other day, however.

It was my first full day working at the clinic. I'd started the morning scrubbing kennels and doing laundry, and then I went out to reception when the door rang. A very kind lady had brought in a beautiful, white pyrenees mix who looked about like this, with a few light brown patches in his fur.


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He was obviously someone's pet. He had a continual smile on his face, loved people, and when asked to sit, he did so obediently. We asked him to lie down, but he didn't know that command. However, he obviously knew shake, as he kept sitting and then repeating the action over and over, especially when we praised him. He did not have a name on his collar, but did have a number on his rabies tag which would be unique to him. We put him in one of our kennels in the back, hoping to figure out who the owner was. The receptionist was unable to reach the person who could identify his owners, as they were unavailable all day, and he was not very happy being closed in for the day and continually filled the clinic with his loud barking. By the end of the day, we were still unable to get in touch with anyone. The veterinarian at the clinic would not allow him to stay overnight, and if we were to call animal control, he'd be put on a list and confiscated if he was found outside his home again. I couldn't bear that thought, and so I offered to take him home for the evening. I'd let him sleep in a horse stall in my barn and bring him back to the clinic in the morning. I loaded him up in my car , which quickly became covered in white hairs. I sat him in the back seat, hoping he'd lie down or look out the window on the drive home. He started out with his face out the window but was soon very eager to be near me, so he ambled up to the front seat, tripping over his large front feet every time I had to hit the breaks. He went between sticking his face into the wind and trying to climb into my lap as I held up my hand and told him, "No." He loved to be petted and talked to. I was very happy to have his company and was happy to be helping him out. However, after driving about 20 minutes home and getting on my street, I received a call from the clinic. The receptionist was able to get in touch with the dog's owner and they were very eager to get him home. I spoke with them and offered to meet them halfway. I turned the car around and drove right back in the direction of work. I waiting in pre-determined parking lot, petting the dog and loving on him  for a few minutes before a family of wife, husband, daughter, and friend showed up beside me, eagerly saying, "Biscuit! Oh, Biscuit!" He seemed quite happy to see them with tail wagging, and he hopped out of my life and back into his family's. They had been driving around looking for him for hours, and I was so happy to have helped get him home. What a joy it is to regain something you love that you've lost.