Dec. 24th, 2020

  • 9:15 PM
polychromatic: (livin' in raincouver)

Crystal and Andrew had to say goodbye to Kai - their beloved Formosan Mountain Dog.

He was only 2 years-old.

I am so heartbroken for them. They gave him the best life and every chance.

If something I did in his treatment contributed to this, I will learn from it.

I'm sorry, Kai. I wish I could have done more for you.
 

Jul. 27th, 2020

  • 8:46 PM
polychromatic: star wars, sci-fi, movies (the force is with us...?)
We lost another classmate today.

While I don't know the circumstances exactly, we know that our classmate was in the ICU and was essentially declared brain-dead. His family made the decision to honour his wishes and will to donate his organs. His wife wanted us to know that he had struggled with depression for years and she had the unparalleled grace to worry about how we - his classmates - would accept the news about his loss.

When I saw the news posted on our Facebook page by a classmate I am particularly fond of, I burst into tears at work. I couldn't help sobbing and was somewhat relieved I was alone when I found out and took ten minutes to myself before seeking out a hug for comfort. One of my bosses asked if we were close and I had to say that while he wasn't a close friend, our class had been as close as 120 people can be. We saw each other on an almost daily basis for 4 years of our lives. We exchanged pleasantries, helped each other with assignments and studying, and celebrated our veterinary milestones together.

I wasn't particularly close to Julian through vet school, but I do remember that he was one of the first people I met during our Orientation Week and the feeling of mutual relief that we were not the only ones over the age of 21. He was soft-spoken, gentle, and funny, and I remember his very clear affection when talking about his then-girlfriend and their shared cats. I remember the tight-knit friendship that developed between him, Atsuko, and Rosanna and how they often were found together.

I will admit that I was somewhat alienated by how strongly vocal he became after transitioning to a vegan outlook. But as combative and inflammatory as he was online, he continued to be the soft-spoken, gentle classmate in-person. I understand that he wanted to speak for those he recognized as voiceless, and wanted our animal charges across the board to be afforded the same protection and dignity.

I cannot imagine what his loved ones are going through. I only know that I feel his loss the same way I did with Flynn. When my co-workers kindly asked how I was doing, if my class seemed to be coping okay, I said "The last time this happened..." and then stopped and sighed as the meaning of those words started to sink in.

I hope very much that Julian has found his peace.


Nov. 6th, 2019

  • 10:06 PM
polychromatic: chuck, tv (came outta this grave to live)
A small victory.

About a month ago I had an absolute meltdown at work. After a rough few months and some very difficult cases with sad outcomes, I could definitely feel my anxiety levels skyrocketing beyond my control. When a new patient presented to us and we found a mass in her left anal gland, I made the recommendation to pursue fine needle aspirates under sedation. The day came, the sedation was administered, and I found I was unable to evert the rectal tissue enough to reach the mass, and it was going to be difficult to aspirate it from the outside.

Hence the meltdown.

After sobbing, I gave it a try anyway and came away with four slides. I warned the client that the results may be non-diagnostic. And then I went home and cried some more.

Thankfully, the results were diagnostic and after we did the necessary pre-screening (labwork, chest x-rays, abdominal ultrasound), our surgical specialist came in and removed both anal glands. He noted that he was impressed we were able to get any kind of diagnosis given how small the masses were. The dog had a few hiccups in her recovery but overall seemed to be doing well.

Today I was able to deliver the good news that the anal glands and the neoplastic masses were successfully removed with clean margins.

I'm so happy for the patient and the client.

I'm glad the crying was worth it.

Oct. 28th, 2019

  • 11:44 PM
polychromatic: (.01)
Happy birthday to me!

Started the day a bit teary when my mom called from her trip in Europe to wish me a happy birthday and ask what I had planned. I could hear her disappointment that I had nothing special on the docket.

Received some nice messages from friends, including a harmonized song from The Best Friend Family.

Was treated to a nice "Happy Birthday" song from the work-family and a very cute Minnie Mouse card, where lovely things were written down.

Had a fairly breezy day at work until I had to perform a humane euthanasia on a young dog who presented as non-responsive.

C'est la vie.

Oct. 1st, 2019

  • 9:32 PM
polychromatic: star wars, sci-fi, movies (the force is with us...?)
I had a full-on meltdown at work today.

After two days of deep-breathing my way through a heightened sense of anxiety, all it took was me feeling like I was out of my depth and had once again made the wrong recommendation in trying to aspirate a suspected mass in the left anal sac of a sedated patient. With three of the clinic staff watching, I burst into tears.

Everyone was so kind.

My technician reached out to reassure me and told me it was okay to cry.

My ward nurse - the lovely woman we call Mama - gave me a hug and told me that I was their sweetheart and that they loved me.

My other ward nurse told me this was the first time she'd seen me break down and she's seen everyone do it. She told me to cry it out and that it was okay.

Another technician gave me a big hug and told me that this was my body's way of saying that it had enough, that I needed to do what was necessary to take care of myself.

One of my bosses sat me down, blocked off the rest of my day, and told me that any time I needed to talk - whether at work, over a coffee, whatever I needed - she was there for me.

Two of the staff members went to buy me a drink and a bunch of goodies from the shop around the corner to share with everyone at the clinic.

My other boss sat me down, apologized for not being good at pep talks, but reiterated that he would have done everything I did for my patient who passed away, that he thinks I am a good veterinarian and he values how dedicated I am to the job and my patients. He told me he is always available for a drink, a coffee, or dinner, and that if I am dreading coming to work at any point, he needs to know so he can help me.

Everyone reacted positively to me saying I had started therapy to help with my lack of sleep, that it was a culmination of some grief and guilt over my grandma along with some difficult and sad cases.

They were all so kind and made me feel so supported.

I am so lucky to work here.

Sep. 27th, 2019

  • 10:38 PM
polychromatic: that's what i said (crazy cat lady lifestyle)
I have been struggling this past month.

In some ways, it feels like the culmination of everything that happened last month is still weighing on me. I haven't been able to pull myself together, not entirely anyway. It all came to a head last Friday morning. I had just spent thirteen hours at work the day before and dealt with a particularly sad case of a senior cat who deteriorated quickly from renal failure and having to walk a family with two young boys through the process of humane euthanasia when they weren't emotionally prepared to say goodbye. Suffice it to say, it was awful. I was prepared to drive down to Seattle to visit much-loved friends that Friday morning, but I woke up in tears after a restless "sleep".

One phonecall later to my mother, I was much calmer. I had decided to follow my friend's advice to seek out a therapist to see if I could get a handle on my work stress and anxiety, which is no doubt affecting my ability to sleep. I managed to finish a few chores that desperately needed doing, and then packed lightly for my short jaunt to Seattle. True, I set out on the road three to four hours later than my usual routine, but minor traffic issues aside, it was well worth it to not be an emotional mess.

This week has been a tough one at work. I had two end-stage renal dysplasia cases fall in my lap in one day - effectively doubling my experience with this condition in one go. The stress of both of these cases weighed on me heavily this week, with one scheduled for humane euthanasia, and the other culminating in the sudden and tragic passing of the pet in-hospital before the owners could say goodbye. I was heartbroken over both, but especially devastated over the latter. When my boss kindly called me to give me the news and reassure me that he would have done everything I did in trying to give this pet a fighting chance, I broke down in tears. It felt like a failure in so many ways. I had failed to ease the suffering of my patient. I had failed to give his family a chance to say their last goodbyes. I had failed.

If I had my choice, I would not have had my first therapy session today. I was a complete and utter mess, so emotionally fragile with what little confidence I had completely shattered. But the appointment was made, and so I went. There was mostly a lot of (very ugly) crying on my end. I expressed that I just want to sleep better, to develop a thicker skin, to learn to manage my stress and anxiety about work better. I was told that she was hearing a lot of self-criticism and judgement. What I got in terms of tools to use was not what I expected - mindfulness. My therapist asked if I was familiar with it, and I admitted that I wasn't. She asked me if I paid attention to my body and I really, honestly had no idea what she meant. I'm sure that I carry a lot of tension, but I don't feel it. Other than the occasional 3-day headaches, I don't feel any pain or tightness. My body and how it feels is the least of my concerns during my day.

I left with instructions to practice "mindfulness", to breathe deep, to focus on the moment with no judgement.

I am only a step above utterly confused.

My therapist would like to see me weekly until she feels that I have a handle on myself at work. I never anticipated that I would need weekly therapy, but at this point I feel emotionally in shambles, and my parents will also be away for a month. If ever there was a time that I would probably need it, it's now. This is the most extravagant thing I have ever spent money on myself for. And in some ways, it does feel like an "extravagance" for me, a person who is financially stable with a good job, a loving family, and very tolerant friends. How do people do it when they truly need it, especially when it is not covered under extended benefits? But that is a topic for another time.

In any case, I am committed to trying this out. So I am taking this "homework assignment" to heart and trying something new:

Bullet Journaling.


This is something I've always looked on with vague interest but never pursued because of my lack of artistic ability and my fear of making mistakes with the permanence of ink. But hey, at this point it's worth a try. We'll see how this venture goes.

Aug. 8th, 2019

  • 7:58 PM
polychromatic: (livin' in raincouver)
I love conferences.

1) I like learning and it's always great to learn about new advancements in the veterinary field or tips and tricks that I can apply to my daily work-life.

2) It's heartening to see a lecture room full of other veterinarians; it reminds me I am not alone in feeling like I can do better.

3) It's a nice excuse to visit new places I might not otherwise have gone to, especially on someone else's dime.

4) It's a vacation from work, even if it is work-adjacent.

This year's plans to aim for conferences in Hawaii and Toronto fell through, so I found myself organizing to attend one in Washington, DC during the less-than-ideal month of August. It's hot! And humid! And prone to thunderstorms! I convinced my mom to come along - why not enjoy the free hotel room and amenities (pool and exercise room for her, rooftop deck for me) and explore the sights?

Two days into the trip, we got a phone call that my grandma had vomited while lying in bed. Her lips were purple when they found her and there was significant concern for aspiration pneumonia. There wasn't any discussion to be had. My mom booked the earliest flight out of DC that she could find. 

I've detailed before how I am not a good granddaughter. I can't lie and say I wasn't disappointed and sad at this turn of events, but I think it's only human. I had been looking forward to this trip, being able to "give" my mom something and letting her have a relaxing, stress-free week. Lee - one of her "kids" - had been looking forward to spending time with her and showing her his new place in New York. But also I understood that there was no question that she had to go home; this is her mother, the only parent she has left. I would have done the same in a heartbeat for my mom and my dad.

I offered to return home if needed, but truthfully there wouldn't be anything I could do, so I stayed behind knowing that I might have to leave in a hurry should things take a turn for the worse. I didn't sleep at all that first night, a mess of disappointment and worry, sad for my family, upset with myself. I'd text my mom mid-day for an update and call when the conference was over for the day. 

And then there were the two mass shootings in the US within 24 hours.

To be fair, everyone around me seemed unfazed. I sat in a small Ethiopian restaurant across the street from my hotel, watching reporters give updates on the estimated number of deaths and injuries. I watched as the authorities in El Paso praised the power of prayer and discussed a manifesto indicating it was a racially motivated attack. I was eating alone and so was focused on the broadcast; everyone else seemed to be having a regular night, engaged in normal conversation.

I squeezed in as many sights as I could in what seemed to me like unbearable heat. I became increasingly aware of the police presence, even at the conference itself. I became grateful for the metal detectors and x-rays at the museums along the National Mall. I observed the many American flags flying at half-mast, a heightened appreciation that I was in very public and crowded areas where there would be little to no cover should someone decide to open fire.

The museums I visited did not sugarcoat the oftentimes dark and unsavoury details of American history. I almost physically recoiled reading about the American response to the plight of the Jewish people during the Holocaust. I was appalled at the repeated exploitation and breaking of treaties with the Native American population. The brutality and injustices suffered by the African-American population asking for equality was infuriating and heartbreaking. Sitting at "The Segregated Lunch Counter" interactive exhibit was disheartening; I could never have had the bravery to risk everything the way these young people did, yet what choice did they have?

Certainly a week of reflection - not just on me as a veterinarian, but as a daughter, granddaughter, and human being.

There is so much more that I can and should be doing.

Jul. 22nd, 2019

  • 8:03 PM
polychromatic: (all i ever aspired to be)
Well! The "daily journaling" plan has well and truly fallen by the wayside and is certainly not helped by dreamwidth's refusal to work in my preferred web browser! I was going to hold out and wait to see if the issue could be fixed, but here I am using Microsoft Edge 10 days later!

I have always lamented that I do not have a thicker skin - even when I know things are not my fault or that hurtful comments are undeserved, I still can't help but let it get under my skin for a day or two. At the beginning of last week, I was subjected to a five minute tirade by a client - one that I had helped with their dog before - because I had the audacity to address myself with the "Doctor" title while making a work-related phone call in the capacity of my job title. My call was not unsolicited - the clients had reached out and requested to speak to me about supplements for their dog and I had attempted to contact them at the phone number I was directed to use in the message left for me. I had left them voicemails detailing who I was (Dr. ________ from ________ Veterinary Hospital). When I attempted to follow up the next morning, I was lambasted by this client who felt that the fact that I referred to myself as Dr. ________ was unprofessional and arrogant, that it was unnecessary for me to declare my "doctor" status and that it was especially unacceptable for me to refer to myself as such to him in particular because I was half his age. He repeated this multiple times to me, discussed how the other veterinarians on staff never referred to themselves as "Doctor" (which is not true) and that he himself was a Doctor and never used that title with his patients and so he felt it was inappropriate that I did.

I was so shocked by this unexpected tirade that I could only reply "Okay" and "I understand" when he paused for my reaction. What do you say to someone when they are doing their best to belittle you and your professional status like that?

After he was finished, he then let me know that it was his partner who had been trying to get in contact with me and asked me to call the correct number so as not to waste anyone's time. As if he had not just wasted mine and his by going on this unrelated rant.

It took me a few moments to recover, but I quickly came to the conclusion that I had done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment and that I do not deserve that level of emotional and verbal abuse over an issue like this. So I did go to one of the partners of the clinic to tell her what had occurred and requested that I no longer see or communicate with these clients. It was gratifying that she took my concerns seriously and that she also validated my feelings about what had just happened. But it did colour the rest of my day, as I started to feel jittery introducing myself as "Dr" to clients I had never met before. My heart actually dropped when I spoke to the partner of the man who had yelled at me when I - unthinkingly - referred to myself as "Dr" when picking up his call. I steeled myself to be yelled at again.

I don't know what drove that client to feel he could speak to me in such a condescending way. Age obviously has something to do with it, but I can't help but wonder if my gender and being a visible minority play a part as well. It is obviously his issue and not mine, but I feel like it is going to take me time to get to the place where I can feel confident again in my professional title - one that I worked hard to earn.

Jun. 23rd, 2019

  • 10:09 PM
polychromatic: ueno juri, writing (writing writing writing)
A mother and daughter pair brought in a stray cat they had found recently, professing that he ran into their house off the street a week after the passing of their dog. He is cute as heck with bright green eyes and long black fur, and he head-butted me immediately when I offered my hand for him to sniff. It's easy to see that both of them are absolutely in love with this charming little guy.

"He was just skin and bones when he came to us, so we've really fattened him up these past three weeks! We've been looking around for lost cat signs in the neighbourhood and haven't seen any. He doesn't have a collar or a tattoo so we're sort of hoping he doesn't have a microchip either."

Well, you can probably guess what happened next.

When the microchip reader beeped, I actually couldn't help saying "Oh, I'm so sorry..." because I could just see the absolute disappointment on their faces - mom especially. I noted the number down and told them I would look it up to see if we could track down this adorable cat's family. I tell my boss that I am probably about to break a girl's heart.

Ten minutes later, I identify myself as a veterinarian on the phone and the woman on the other line is immediately ecstatic: "Oh my god, have you found my cat?!" He's been missing for six months, they've put up signs in their neighbourhood and have had various people calling about sightings. She can't stop telling the people around her that her cat his been found and she is so, so thrilled! "That microchip was the best thing I could have done!" she says to me after thanking me profusely.

I am near tears the entire time because I am a big marshmallow when it comes to people and their pets.

I coordinate between both parties, gaining permission to share their information with each other. I assure the cat's owner that he looks good and has been receiving the best of care with the people who welcomed him into their home. I assure the good Samaritans that he is well-loved.

(I do my best to dodge all the insinuations that the mother is throwing my way that he "ran away" from his home because he was ill-cared for. She wants to ensure she is surrendering him to a good home and she is wondering if this woman will sell him to their family. She has clearly given her heart away to this cat and I am truly sad for her, but also relieved when her young daughter sensibly points out that these people cared enough to have him microchipped and he was likely well-loved and socialized given how friendly he is.)

I gently try to steer mom in the direction that maybe it is time for them to look for a new furry family member and that they have really done a wonderful thing in aiding the reunion of this cat with his family. Given that I have essentially ruined their day, I graciously tell them that I am not charging for my time today.

So there you go! My first personal experience with the success of microchips!

May. 27th, 2019

  • 8:32 PM
polychromatic: that's what i said (crazy cat lady lifestyle)
Boss and I had a horrible "hour of death" at work today. She had to perform not one but two humane euthanasia procedures, and I diagnosed cancer in back-to-back appointments.

Sometimes being a veterinarian sucks.

May. 22nd, 2019

  • 10:06 PM
polychromatic: chuck, tv (came outta this grave to live)
I had my one-ish year review at work yesterday. I've been (half-jokingly) saying that since it hasn't been a priority for them, I assume that things are going okay for me!

So - of course - I was late for my review meeting because my day was a little hectic and completely got away from me. My bosses not only had to help me finish up a case, they also ran ahead to the close-by cafe and ordered me a hot chocolate and a sandwich.

Once I had things somewhat under control at the clinic, I ran the (thankfully short!) distance to the cafe and basically had the most lovely review.

Both my bosses expressed how happy they have been with me this past year, reaffirmed to me multiple times that I am a good veterinarian (something that I feel like always need to hear), and that the staff and clients like me. They want to make sure I felt supported and that I'm not feeling as if I'm in over my head. They also said really nice things about me as a person - that they simply just enjoy working with me, that they appreciate that I'm cheerful, and that even when I am stressed I still present as calm. My one boss even said he could see that I do sometimes find joy in my job (which can be hard) and he feels that based on his experience with me in the past year, it's not something he thinks I will lose.

It just felt so nice to be praised and appreciated like this.

Even though I was a bit frazzled, I emphasized how happy I am working at this clinic, how supported I feel, and how I feel like I am learning to be a better veterinarian. They are telling me that they recognize and appreciate my value and... it's really a wonderful feeling.

Seeking out this position really has been the best bit of kismet I've had in the admittedly charmed life that I lead! And I am grateful.

May. 15th, 2019

  • 4:52 PM
polychromatic: (.01)
Sometimes being a veterinarian is tough. Whether it's difficult cases, frustrating client interactions, or just the culmination of it all, it can be a very dispiriting experience.

Today was not a totally successful day by any means, but there is an old-man cat of 18 years that I admitted for supportive care yesterday due to progression of his chronic renal insufficiency. The client is in the very sad position of having just lost his wife, and I was terrified that if my patient didn't respond well to treatment, that I would have to make the recommendation that saying goodbye may be the kindest option.

I was so relieved to not have to do that today.

Our old man has discovered his appetite again and has been brighter and more interactive. His renal values - while not perfect - are showing significant improvement. I am honestly ecstatic. When I relayed this information to the client, he said "I'm so happy. I'm just so freaking relieved!" and I had a bit of a cry after hanging up the phone.

I'm glad that sometimes I can help our patients to feel better and go home. I'm glad that level of compassion is still something I have, that it hasn't been leached from me entirely.

And it's nice to know that some days it's still good to be a veterinarian.

May. 8th, 2019

  • 9:23 PM
polychromatic: (livin' in raincouver)
Going to Melbourne for 4 years to pursue my veterinary degree was one of the scariest things I have done, but also some of the best years of my life. A large part of that is due to the people I met and the friends I made through the program. We always like to say that our year level was something special; we all had our own friend groups as is wont to happen in a class of 120+, but everyone in our class was friendly, interactive, and open. We liked each other and went out of our way to support and help each other as much as we could. Some of the people I have met through this degree are those that I would consider some of my best friends now.

We lost one of our classmates to suicide a little over a year ago, four years after we graduated. It was like we collectively had the wind knocked out of us and our hearts broken in one fell swoop.

I remember waking up to the news on our class Facebook group - the quickest way for us to all be informed - and the shock I felt followed by numbness. I didn't know how to process the tragic news, it didn't feel real, it couldn't have happened, it wasn't fair. I drove to work and prepared for a full day. It wasn't until my former housemate and close friend from vet school messaged me directly about Flynn's loss that the floodgates opened. I retreated to our staff room and sobbed. He was so young, only 27, and he was gone.

Everyone in our class was understandably distraught, but I had moments where my grief over Flynn felt complicated and almost unearned. I had read the stories my classmates shared, happy memories of Flynn and his effect on their lives, but I did not feel like I had anything meaningful to contribute as my memories seemed small and inconsequential. I liked Flynn very much, and while we were friendly, I wouldn't categorize us as friends. He was one of the youngest in our class and I was one of the oldest, so I thought of him as one of the "babies" - someone to be watched over and protected. He was my first ever assigned partner in the program, and I remember him brightly suggesting that we meet "in the arvo" and then having to patiently explain what that meant when I stared blankly at him. I remember the wacky antics he got into with his friends - dressing up in head-to-toe bodysuits to make us all laugh during lecture, his spectacular yet terrifying unicycle show on "Talent Show Night". I remember commiserating with him when we had the unfortunate luck to situate ourselves in the coldest spot in an enormous tent that we shared with at least 10 other people on a camping trip along the Great Ocean Road. I remember the two of us attempting to brave our way through cutting onions for the O-Week barbecue and trying valiantly not to cry. I remember him good-humouredly trying to explain the Australian Rules Football to me. I remember him easily accepting that his preconceptions against Americans were perhaps ill-informed, as evidenced by the amazing Americans we had in our class. I remember him being game to play a slightly eccentric character for a (somewhat lackluster) group presentation. I know there were any number of smaller conversations we shared, nothing earth-shattering or life-changing, but simply pleasant exchanges that anyone can have with a friendly acquaintance on a regular basis. He was really just such a nice "kid" in my mind who seemed so happy-go-lucky and willing to have a chat with everyone. I had liked him - after all he, like the rest of my class,  had been a regular presence in my life for four years - but I still questioned my right to mourn his loss because I wasn't as strongly linked to him.

The other aspect - one that I think we all struggled with - was how we lost Flynn. There is no question that our chosen career and the daily struggles that come with it had played a large part in his depression. The fact that one of our own had been suffering to the point where he felt it was necessary to make the choice to ease his own pain was so tough to swallow. I can't speak to how everyone else feels, but to me it almost felt like we had failed him, that we had missed the chance to "save" him and help him through it. Of course it's more complicated than that, but suffice it to say that the possibility of losing one of our own at this point hadn't even been on my radar, and now we were scrambling to check in with each other to make sure no one else was going through this alone.

At this stage it has been well-documented in any number of reputable publications that veterinarians are four times more likely to take their own lives. When Dr. Sophia Yin - a well-respected veterinary behaviourist - took her own life, it sent shockwaves through the veterinary community. Flynn was the first loss I have experienced on a personal level in this field, but I know of four vets who have taken their own lives through my own personal connections and social circles.  I have seen two of my younger colleagues despair over a career that they had always dreamed of pursuing, crushed under the unrealistic expectations of clients and the immense pressures they placed on themselves. I have witnessed and experienced firsthand the kind of emotional abuse heaped on the backs of veterinarians. Only yesterday I had a client angrily tell me I was a waste of his time just by virtue of not being the person he wanted to see. I was initially taken aback but was able to laugh it off because I have a good support system in my work environment and in my personal life, and I am lucky enough (because it's luck, not willpower) to not suffer from depression. Not everyone has those privileges.

Yesterday, a major Australian TV program covered the topic of suicide in the veterinary field, with Flynn's family and friend helping to raise awareness and funds to ensure that veterinarians are able to reach out for and receive support if they need it. It was a difficult video to watch, to witness the still-raw grief of his parents, but also amazing to see their strength in trying to ensure that his loss is not in vain and to help prevent what happened to their son from happening to anyone else. And for my part, I will continue to donate every year to honour Flynn's memory.

the loves of my life: part iv

  • Apr. 29th, 2019 at 8:13 PM
polychromatic: nodame cantabile, manga (bambi cantabile)
After finishing veterinary school, I moved back in with my parents and started job-hunting. A few months later I started my new career on the auspicious date of April Fool's.

Not going to lie, the first year involved a lot of ice cream and crying.

Once I had settled in enough to know that I was in for the long-haul and was going to continue to have a steady income, I decided that I needed to come home to a furry reminder of why I was putting myself through this. I desperately needed something to love. So with my parents on board, we all decided it was time to look for a cat again.


Kira



It's funny, but I can still remember scrolling past her photo on PetFinder and immediately dismissing her because she and her sister were meant to be adopted out together. With plans to move into my own space someday, I really didn't want to have two cats (and two litterboxes!) in 500 square feet. After some debate ("But a kitten is more fun!" my dad insisted), we decided that we were likely looking for an adult cat with a friendly personality, and that it may take some time to find the right one for our family. We headed down to the local SPCA shelter and I cautioned my parents that we were likely not going to walk away with a cat today, we were really just there to look.

Thirty minutes later "Akira" (who had engaged in enough fights with her sister to warrant adopting them out separately) had charmed us enough that I was handing over the adoption fee while she was being packed away into a cardboard carrier. Let it be known that I had been willing to walk away and think on it some more, but my parents decided "this one will do". Thank goodness for them!

I almost immediately shortened her name to Kira because three syllables was too much work for me. Kira proved to be a bit of a chicken, initially seeking out hiding spots in her new home, but quickly adjusted to her new environment. I had always wanted a cuddly cat who would tolerate being picked up and she is more than happy to comply! My bed became the area she so graciously allows me to share with her, and I delight in the moments where she curls up next to me, stretching her front paws forward to warm my ears. When I come home, she is usually quick to come greet me, yelling at me with in her whiny voice until I give her the attention she so clearly deserves. There was no question that when I moved out that she was coming with me.

While she's been a dream for my friends (letting them pick her up and encouraging them to pet her at every opportunity) and a very attentive companion (sometimes overly so!), she is not without her annoying quirks. Kira does not fear or respect me in the slightest and knows exactly how to push my buttons! When she wants attention or food and is not getting it, she'll play the blinds like a xylophone, jump up on counters or tables, and reach up to scratch my fly screens! She even learned that if she got behind my flat screen tv and stood up with one paw against it just so, I would have an apoplectic meltdown! Kira also has a habit of just deciding I don't need to sleep, and if I try to lock her out of my room she will spend the next four hours body-slamming the door while meowing pathetically.

(She also has what I suspect is a sleeping disorder. Sometimes when she's in a deep sleep, she'll start spasming and subsequently urinates a small amount. It's not her fault and I'm not convinced it's a big enough issue to warrant medicating. And at least she usually sleeps on the blankets I set up at the foot of my bed, which are easy enough to launder.)

Other than that though? She's a pretty darn good cat. She makes me laugh with her antics and her consistently "resting bitch face". She wants attention and love so badly that I often have her racing between the living room and the bedroom so she can get under my hands for a good chin scratch. She comes when she's called and likes to be in the same room that I'm in (which is easy enough in 700 square feet). My dad very gruffly says that Kira is not a "real cat" and I laughingly call her my "dog-in-a-cat's-body" because she has none of the dignity or decorum of a cat and all the goofy adoration of a dog. I have always felt that my cats have loved me, but Kira just really, really loves me, and it's a nice feeling.

Unlike a dog though, I can guarantee that she will never save my life. Fire alarm? Straight behind the washing machine. Earthquake at night? No attempt to wake me at all. We joke that I'm going to meet my grisly end by trying to get her from behind the washer/dryer during a natural disaster and thus will promptly be crushed to death.

As I always tell her, she's lucky she's cute.

My dad's favourite cat is Pogo, and my mom's favourite cat is - without a question - Waffles. Me? I always say I don't have a favourite; each cat occupies their own place in my memories and I loved each of them the same and differently. I'm still not sure I could proclaim a favourite cat, but Kira has undoubtedly been very important to me. She has been my constant, reliable, infuriating, hilarious, and doting companion through my first years as a veterinarian, and I probably could not have asked for a better one.

Mar. 21st, 2019

  • 9:34 PM
polychromatic: mario, muffins, misc (your princess is in another castle)

I fractured two roots and was faced with two retained roots across two separate dental procedures.

I got all the roots out without needing to be "rescued" by my colleagues.

Progress!




 

Mar. 19th, 2019

  • 11:03 PM
polychromatic: that's what i said (crazy cat lady lifestyle)

A bit of a whirlwind day with a downer of an ending. I actually worked through an entire sheet of bubble-wrap today, which may have slowed me down on my actual job but helped with my stress levels!

At least at the end of it all, one of my bosses and I had a laugh about our wacky childhood experiences at the hands of our parents.

Me: When I was 3 years-old, my parents brought me along on a cruise and left me alone on a beach while they went snorkeling. They told me a wolf would eat me if I went into the water and just left me there! And they're both in social work!

Boss: My parents promised me Dairy Queen and then took me to an exorcist instead because they thought I was possessed! And we passed by a Dairy Queen on the way there and the way back and didn't stop to go in!

Needless to say, if this was a competition, he won it!

Mar. 12th, 2019

  • 10:42 PM
polychromatic: (livin' in raincouver)
Steady day at work, some good things (puppies!), some bad things (complications!). I'm really mostly just tired!

Mar. 7th, 2019

  • 7:56 PM
polychromatic: nodame cantabile, manga (bambi cantabile)
I had a "good" surgery day! Finished before 4pm, no one had to stay late, didn't leave a stack of unaddressed issues in my box. Whoo hoo!

Of course, I am sick because apparently my immune system has decided that 2019 is the year to slack off. Thanks, immune system! And why does it have to come around in the months where I have weekends free?!

Mar. 6th, 2019

  • 10:55 PM
polychromatic: (Default)
Had to deliver bad news to three clients about their pets today.

One patient of mine (whose care in recent weeks I was not involved in) is doing really well!

Alex Trebek has been diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer.

Lots of ups and downs.

Mar. 2nd, 2019

  • 10:01 PM
polychromatic: that's what i said (crazy cat lady lifestyle)
Another day, another journal entry missed. So much for keeping a daily journal! Although, I have to at least admit that this has already gone on far longer and more successfully than any other "diary" I've ever attempted since my elementary school days!

Yesterday was "lost" to speeding through the remaining episodes of the The Umbrella Academy with Gaisce after I had finished work. Not quite as beloved as our other "dysfunctional adult siblings" tale (The Haunting of Hill House), but still with moments of tremendous fun! We'll have to see what the next season brings.

(Also Ben is my favourite character despite having the least number of lines. What can I say? His precious "Whee!" in the ice cream truck sealed the deal. He was also the one who was the least likely to make dumb decisions. Possibly due to his deceased nature, but you know...)




Today was a pretty laid-back work day that ended in chaos for me. Luckily, my friend Allison had very nicely organized for dinner to be a five minute walk from my workplace so that I could show up on time and then run back to work afterwards to finish my remaining files. Dinner did serve as a reminder that my life tends to be nothing but work, work, work. When anyone asks what's been going on in my life, I generally don't have much else to offer beyond that. As it was, I asked that my personal number be passed on to a veterinarian at the specialist hospital so I could get an update during dinner on an elderly feline patient of mine because I am so invested in her and her owner being okay. I am not generally well-equipped to perform home euthanasias, but I offered to do so for him if he felt strongly about it, and I am glad that it looks like those services may not be needed. If only our pets could live forever!

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