Growing up in a small town in England, we were lucky to have our own ducks and chickens.  We used to keep them at the bottom of the garden.  It was very common for people in our town to have their own ducks and chickens in their backyards.  We had a pond for the ducks, and a shed where we locked them all up for the night.  The chickens used to peck around all day, and the ducks would usually be sunning themselves after a dip in the pond.  They all lived together in harmony, a few feathers were ruffled over food occasionally, but that was all.

The chickens and ducks all had names and had their own personality.   The chickens were the regular brown laying hens and they would lay every morning.  My sister and I would rush down every morning to grab the eggs.  The ducks were Muscovy ducks. They didn’t quack like a regular duck, but they did waddle like a regular duck. They would hiss like a snake and bob their heads back and forth.  The ducks were great sitters and would sit forever if you didn’t remove the eggs.  We had a duck who sat on chicken eggs, and when the eggs hatched they followed her around like she was their mother.

They were pets, and we loved them.  They became very tame and we could pick them up and cuddle them.  We had one duck we named Tinkerbell and we were very fond of her.  She was mainly white and had such a sweet way about her.  I remember when she got old and became ill, we brought her into our house and nursed her till she passed.   She would get a warm mash every day, and we had soft blankets for her to rest her tired body.

I have very fond memories of our house and life in Ampthill.  My mum was a single mum raising two wild teenage girls.  The animals grounded us.  We not only had ducks and chickens, we had dogs and ponies too.  We were members of our local pony club and went to shows or events most weekends.

All our dogs came from the local SPCA, mutts, the Heinz 57’s, all great dogs.  We had one dog called Whisp, who came to us as a cruelty case. She had been left locked up in a shed; she was a walking skeleton, starving for not only food, but also for love.

Whisp was an amazing dog.  We fed her up, and she got lots of love. The one thing we could not train out of her was her gluttony.  She would jump on counter tops to steal food.  She once opened our fridge and ate the cooked Christmas turkey but left the stuffing mind you!

I remember all my friends would be going into town and buying all the newest fashions, I once asked my mum why we couldn’t go out and buy all the newest fads.  She turned and asked me if my friends had their own pony, or had all the animals we had.  I then realized that we were truly blessed and that I wouldn’t swap our animals for any new fashion item.

All hands and paws on deck!

It’s all about team work when working in a busy animal hospital.  Yes we all have our positions, but that doesn’t mean we don’t help when needed.   It can be the technicians answering calls, invoicing clients out, to us all trying to hold a fractious cat for a nail trim.

I myself love helping in the back as we call it, the treatment room, where all the action happens.  Animals are my passion, so I feel blessed to be able to work with them every day.  When I am asked to help hold, or hold off a vein while blood is taken, I do so with gusto.

My favorite is helping prep for surgery, from holding off a vein for a catheter to be placed, to holding their mouths open so the technician can incubate. I love watching the hustle and bustle of the team at work.  The flow and coordination is a beautiful thing to see.

I also love to make their beds ready for when surgery is done. I make them like I would a real bed, a soft thick blanket for them to lay on. I put a sheet, a blanket and another soft blanket to cover them. I also fold a towel to make a little pillow.  I roll back the top covers so they can be placed in their little spot and then covered up, all snug as a bug in a rug.

I feel privileged to work in a caring environment.  An environment, where I feel I make a difference every day.  To see a sick patient come in, and to see our team at work, their compassion, empathy and passion is a true gem to behold.  To see that patient go home, feeling so much better, and this is all in a day’s work.  Working with a great team is key, it’s like a jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces fit, and we at Brock Street Animal Hospital fit very well.

The Ginger Cat didn’t have a name, so I referred to him by the colour description on his cage card. There was one other adult cat at the Humane Society that summer. His name was Sam. He was a brown tabby with emerald eyes. I cleaned and fed the shelter cats every day. Whenever someone came in looking to adopt one, I would show them around. Most people wanted a kitten.
I would tell prospective owners,
“He is quiet and gentle and very careful about covering up his business. You never know how a kitten will turn out, but I can tell you these adult cats are great.”

Then one day – success! Someone adopted Sam. But in the weeks that followed, many kittens went to loving homes while The Ginger Cat remained. He was never really interested in food, although he ate well enough. He would walk the length of his kennel, turn and walk back, his motor running, his eyes locked on mine. His routine was always the same and all he wanted was my attention. It was more than half way through the summer, when the shelter manager Pat, took me aside during my lunch break.
“We cannot keep him much longer. It’s our policy – it isn’t humane to keep a cat locked up in a cage for months. I’m sorry, but he’ll have to be put down if we don’t find a home in the next 2 weeks.” she said.

That night at our kitchen table, I told my mom about my day.
“Do you think we could bring him home?” I said.
“Yes. But Dad’s got to say yes too.” she said.

The next day, my dad arrived at the shelter just before closing. I showed him around and then we headed down to the cat room. My dad stood there in his dress shirt and tie, The Ginger Cat like a baby in his arms. He couldn’t look away.
“OK.” he said.

My mom named him Beethoven. He loved to lay on his back and roll from side to side, begging for someone to rub his belly. At the end of the summer, I went off to university and Beethoven stayed behind. He spent the next fifteen years with my parents. Whenever I came home for a visit, he loved to just sit and look me. I swear he was the most grateful creature I’ve ever met. And for all the times I heard a ‘no’ from my parents, I am forever grateful that they said yes to The Ginger Cat.

Saying goodbye!

Saying goodbye is never easy, and I and my colleagues have all experienced this emotional ride.  We know the pain and how hard it is to say goodbye to our best friends, our family member we call our pets.

My heart always breaks when we have a euthanasia, as I know the pain the family will feel and go through.  The pet is ready to leave, whether it’s an ongoing illness, or an old frail body that cannot get around without feeling pain.  We are the emotional ones, the ones that will feel the loss for months and even years to come.

I know it’s been over a year since I lost one of my babies, yes I say babies, as that’s how I feel about my dogs.  Miss Twinny was my shadow, my Velcro dog, my sweet precious baby.  She had come into my life 6 years previously, a rescue from a terrible situation.  She and her partner Fluff had been rescued from a shelter in South Korea. They came to me not knowing how to live in a home, not knowing how to do stairs, or use the backyard.  It was a battle, but so worth it, they had come such a long way to find love, and they found it at my house.

Miss Twinny used to gaze at me from across the room, I would often look up to her soft round eyes gazing at me.  She would follow me everywhere, and I used to joke she would follow me to the end of the earth to just be near me.

Miss Twinny got very ill, very quickly and with the help of bloodwork, we were able to determine that she needed an ultrasound, and then a visit to a specialist.  Miss Twinny had an adrenal mass, and there was a chance if she had surgery that they could remove the mass.  She was booked for her surgery on a Friday morning, I said my goodbyes as I looked at her frightened little face in the hospital in Toronto. She was worried, as she was unsure of her surroundings.  I trusted the staff and Doctors there and knew she was in good hands.

Miss Twinny unfortunately went into respiratory distress the morning of her surgery, I got the call and was able to make it in time for her to crawl into my arms. I was told there was nothing that could be done and that I should say my goodbyes.  That goodbye was so hard, but she did manage to crawl into my arms and look at me for the very last time with her soft round eyes as I said my goodbye.