For these elections to be over, what the heck is going on in this world? We have a cooky old man, who picked a psycho for VP. And Obama, who seems like he would do a good job, but who knows... I just want it to be OVER! Find out who won already!
It's starting to get cold outside, I can tell that Christmas is on it's way. People have started shopping, and going crazy over the Holidays. What a consumer pile of crap, the holidays... We look forward to it al year, and in a day it's over. Oh well, good memories though.
School is getting busier, it seems like so much to do.
I'm going to the Beach in two weeks, I'm pretty excited, I haven't been there since August. It'll be a good time, me and my honey are getting away for a few days. I know it will be cold, but I just want to sit on the beach, and watch the waves, it's so nice to sit and just listen... Despite the fact that New Jersey Beaches are pretty gross...
Just trying to keep up I guess...
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
I killed a dog...
THIS IS GRAPHIC.... WARNING.
I have to write this to get it out of me, to get these feelings out of my mind.
This is about a dog named Roscoe.
He came to our shelter a terrified dog, he wasn't even a year old yet. He was afraid and clearly abused. He didn't really like me in the beginning, but came to like me over time. He really hated some people that worked in the bigger dog building. But loved the people he was around all of the time.
He became a problem, growling, and snapping at employees, we thought he was just stressed. He was adopted by a coworker of mine, who stopped working at the shelter a couple months ago. He was there for like a week, and brought back because her other dogs weren't getting used to him. So we felt really bad for him. He was great with her son though. He was adopted again, and long story short, he was extremely protective of the little girl, and ended up biting a woman in the face. I won't get into it.
This is about my experience with him:
I'll never forget for the rest of my life, the smell of "the box" as we call it. It's a red metal tool box that we keep the euthanasia in. There is a certain smell of the box, that is now associated with death for me. The death of an animal that is... When you get out the box, you're already upset and upon unlatching the latch and opening the box, the smell hits you, it's a chemical smell, a grungy chemical smell. I cannot describe. There is a shelf, with some sedative bottles, some old boxes, and some syringes. The bottom has a stethoscope, the euthanasia solution, and large syringes used for the actual euthanasia process.
I see the dog in the parking lot, the dog I will kill in a few minutes. I get nauseous. The dog is drooling, scared, and looks absolutely terrified. I go up to the woman, and her daughter (Yes this is Roscoe I'm talking about) and talk to them briefly, and tell them to hold on a minute.
I tell my coworker to come with me, because this dog liked me but was afraid of me, I told him to hold him for me. Then ran up to grab a muzzle, since he's bitten someone, I didn't want to take any chances. He takes the dog from the woman, takes his leash, and the second the leash left her hand, the dog panicked. He looked at him, me and then the woman, then scrambled to the daughter. He jumped up on her, grabbing onto her for dear life. As if saying, "Please don't leave me, don't let them take me!!" I began crying, and had to walk away. I went inside, to get a blanket and "the box". I opened it, my nose took in the smell, and again the images of dogs dying went through my head. I checked for new needles, closed the box, and grabbed one on my way out the door.
I went back out, my eyes full of tears, my heart pounding in terror. I see that the people have walked away, and my coworker is standing there with the dog, who is now drooling, and quickly looking around for his little girl.
My coworker and I took the dog behind our building, on the grass, and layed out a blanket. Here it will be quiet and peaceful, we will not be bothered by people coming in the parking lot, or walking around with dogs.
I calmly talked to Roscoe as I opened the box. It seems that the dogs know what this box is, they seem to see it, and suddenly freeze, as if they're thinking, "Oh God no..." I took the plastic off the new needle, and filled it with sedative. The clear liquid filled the syringe the small bubbles floating to the top of the syringe, I pushed out the air, and put the bottle back in the box, and put the cap on.
I took the muzzle, and it was a struggle to get it on the dog, at this point I was still crying, more like weeping uncontrollably. I try to keep my emotions in check, because it helps the dogs stay calm, but I can't always. My coworker held him close, and I gave him a shot of the sedative. He squirmed, upset by me giving him a shot, I cried, "I'm sorry I'm sorry." Then I took off the muzzle, he sat and watched the cats for a while.
I have to say now, I'm not writing this in joy, but in deep sorrow. This has been replaying in my mind for the last week, I have to get it out of me, I have to get it down, and I just wanted it to be out...
When the dogs get the sedative, it sometimes takes 2 minutes, and they're completely sedated, sometimes it takes 15 and they're sedated. Roscoe took a while, he got dizzy, which they all do, then threw up. I felt so horrible for him... Still crying, petting, rubbing and holding him. He finally lied down and I gave him one more shot of sedative, this time he didn't even feel it.
At this point, the dogs are completely sedated, and out of it, they do not feel anything.
I sat there crying, wishing that something would happen to stop this, so I could just let him wake up, just let him live. I waited, looking around desperately, hoping to God that something would happen. It didn't... Nothing happened.
I got out the bigger syringe, and filled it to the appropriate amount of euthanasia, which is a sodium phenobarbital overdose. This liquid is pink, and think, it slowly fills the syringe, almost dragging out to torture you.
We do a shot into the heart, again, I will say, the dog is COMPLETELY sedated, and has no feeling what so ever.
I look to him, again wishing it wasn't true. Feeling terrible for the dog, wiping the tears from my eyes, and blowing my nose. I pull his leg back, measure where the heart should be, then double check with the stethoscope, I find the exact spot, take the needle, taking a big deep breath, I put the needle in, pull back, blood fills the syringe, then I push, the pink fluid draining from the syringe into the dog.
I sob uncontrollably, holding the dog, apologizing over and over again.
I don't want to kill animals, why in the world do I have to do these things. I take no pride in it. I hate it. It so rarely happens, we never euthanize an animal unless it's extremely ill, or extremely aggressive, in this case, this dog had gone after multiple workers, and bit someone. We had no choice.
The heart dies, I hear the last beat in the stethoscope. I listen for a while longer, just to make sure. Just to be sure absolutely sure... I walk to get the bag... The black garbage/body bag. Then check once more, one more time... And push the body into a bag, close "the box" and carry the dog to the freezer.
When an animal goes from being a warm, loving creature, to a piece of garbage in a bag... It's just so wrong.
The pet memorial services picks up the bodies, and cremates them.
Sadly, this is only one day of my work, that rarely ever happens, I rarely have to put anything to sleep. But still, it's no fair. It's just not fair.
I didn't ask for this when I got at job at an animal shelter. But just think, some shelters euthanize 100 dogs and close to 200 cats in a week, some in ONE day.
I can't imagine ever being that person, to look into those animal's faces, and say goodbye. Strays being held by a stranger, in their last moments. I wonder if they wonder, "Where is my master?"
I just hate humans, we caused this, we keep breeding our animals, thinking that homes are out there for every single one.
I didn't write this for my own good, I wrote this to get it out, to heal myself.
I wish more people would realize that this happens EVERY DAY, IN EVERY STATE, IN EVERY COUNTRY. Millions of animals DIE for no reason, but that there is no room.
Please realize, that this is happening, for your own good...
I have to start realizing that I am not the one who causes the problem, but the one administering the treatment, taking care of the unwanted, and the forgotten...
I have to write this to get it out of me, to get these feelings out of my mind.
This is about a dog named Roscoe.
He came to our shelter a terrified dog, he wasn't even a year old yet. He was afraid and clearly abused. He didn't really like me in the beginning, but came to like me over time. He really hated some people that worked in the bigger dog building. But loved the people he was around all of the time.
He became a problem, growling, and snapping at employees, we thought he was just stressed. He was adopted by a coworker of mine, who stopped working at the shelter a couple months ago. He was there for like a week, and brought back because her other dogs weren't getting used to him. So we felt really bad for him. He was great with her son though. He was adopted again, and long story short, he was extremely protective of the little girl, and ended up biting a woman in the face. I won't get into it.
This is about my experience with him:
I'll never forget for the rest of my life, the smell of "the box" as we call it. It's a red metal tool box that we keep the euthanasia in. There is a certain smell of the box, that is now associated with death for me. The death of an animal that is... When you get out the box, you're already upset and upon unlatching the latch and opening the box, the smell hits you, it's a chemical smell, a grungy chemical smell. I cannot describe. There is a shelf, with some sedative bottles, some old boxes, and some syringes. The bottom has a stethoscope, the euthanasia solution, and large syringes used for the actual euthanasia process.
I see the dog in the parking lot, the dog I will kill in a few minutes. I get nauseous. The dog is drooling, scared, and looks absolutely terrified. I go up to the woman, and her daughter (Yes this is Roscoe I'm talking about) and talk to them briefly, and tell them to hold on a minute.
I tell my coworker to come with me, because this dog liked me but was afraid of me, I told him to hold him for me. Then ran up to grab a muzzle, since he's bitten someone, I didn't want to take any chances. He takes the dog from the woman, takes his leash, and the second the leash left her hand, the dog panicked. He looked at him, me and then the woman, then scrambled to the daughter. He jumped up on her, grabbing onto her for dear life. As if saying, "Please don't leave me, don't let them take me!!" I began crying, and had to walk away. I went inside, to get a blanket and "the box". I opened it, my nose took in the smell, and again the images of dogs dying went through my head. I checked for new needles, closed the box, and grabbed one on my way out the door.
I went back out, my eyes full of tears, my heart pounding in terror. I see that the people have walked away, and my coworker is standing there with the dog, who is now drooling, and quickly looking around for his little girl.
My coworker and I took the dog behind our building, on the grass, and layed out a blanket. Here it will be quiet and peaceful, we will not be bothered by people coming in the parking lot, or walking around with dogs.
I calmly talked to Roscoe as I opened the box. It seems that the dogs know what this box is, they seem to see it, and suddenly freeze, as if they're thinking, "Oh God no..." I took the plastic off the new needle, and filled it with sedative. The clear liquid filled the syringe the small bubbles floating to the top of the syringe, I pushed out the air, and put the bottle back in the box, and put the cap on.
I took the muzzle, and it was a struggle to get it on the dog, at this point I was still crying, more like weeping uncontrollably. I try to keep my emotions in check, because it helps the dogs stay calm, but I can't always. My coworker held him close, and I gave him a shot of the sedative. He squirmed, upset by me giving him a shot, I cried, "I'm sorry I'm sorry." Then I took off the muzzle, he sat and watched the cats for a while.
I have to say now, I'm not writing this in joy, but in deep sorrow. This has been replaying in my mind for the last week, I have to get it out of me, I have to get it down, and I just wanted it to be out...
When the dogs get the sedative, it sometimes takes 2 minutes, and they're completely sedated, sometimes it takes 15 and they're sedated. Roscoe took a while, he got dizzy, which they all do, then threw up. I felt so horrible for him... Still crying, petting, rubbing and holding him. He finally lied down and I gave him one more shot of sedative, this time he didn't even feel it.
At this point, the dogs are completely sedated, and out of it, they do not feel anything.
I sat there crying, wishing that something would happen to stop this, so I could just let him wake up, just let him live. I waited, looking around desperately, hoping to God that something would happen. It didn't... Nothing happened.
I got out the bigger syringe, and filled it to the appropriate amount of euthanasia, which is a sodium phenobarbital overdose. This liquid is pink, and think, it slowly fills the syringe, almost dragging out to torture you.
We do a shot into the heart, again, I will say, the dog is COMPLETELY sedated, and has no feeling what so ever.
I look to him, again wishing it wasn't true. Feeling terrible for the dog, wiping the tears from my eyes, and blowing my nose. I pull his leg back, measure where the heart should be, then double check with the stethoscope, I find the exact spot, take the needle, taking a big deep breath, I put the needle in, pull back, blood fills the syringe, then I push, the pink fluid draining from the syringe into the dog.
I sob uncontrollably, holding the dog, apologizing over and over again.
I don't want to kill animals, why in the world do I have to do these things. I take no pride in it. I hate it. It so rarely happens, we never euthanize an animal unless it's extremely ill, or extremely aggressive, in this case, this dog had gone after multiple workers, and bit someone. We had no choice.
The heart dies, I hear the last beat in the stethoscope. I listen for a while longer, just to make sure. Just to be sure absolutely sure... I walk to get the bag... The black garbage/body bag. Then check once more, one more time... And push the body into a bag, close "the box" and carry the dog to the freezer.
When an animal goes from being a warm, loving creature, to a piece of garbage in a bag... It's just so wrong.
The pet memorial services picks up the bodies, and cremates them.
Sadly, this is only one day of my work, that rarely ever happens, I rarely have to put anything to sleep. But still, it's no fair. It's just not fair.
I didn't ask for this when I got at job at an animal shelter. But just think, some shelters euthanize 100 dogs and close to 200 cats in a week, some in ONE day.
I can't imagine ever being that person, to look into those animal's faces, and say goodbye. Strays being held by a stranger, in their last moments. I wonder if they wonder, "Where is my master?"
I just hate humans, we caused this, we keep breeding our animals, thinking that homes are out there for every single one.
I didn't write this for my own good, I wrote this to get it out, to heal myself.
I wish more people would realize that this happens EVERY DAY, IN EVERY STATE, IN EVERY COUNTRY. Millions of animals DIE for no reason, but that there is no room.
Please realize, that this is happening, for your own good...
I have to start realizing that I am not the one who causes the problem, but the one administering the treatment, taking care of the unwanted, and the forgotten...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
College
Will be over soon! One more year and I'm done. I have like 5 minutes to write something quick before I go to class. I'm in the computer lab between my Math class and my Social Psychology classes.
There's this cute little chubby man that just came down to the lab and sat across from me. He looks like Santa should in the Summer, gray beard and stache. He's breathing loudly, which is making me want to laugh for some reason. He seems bored, or hot. It's kind of warm out today.
I have Social Psychology next, I had the same professor for a class before, that I basically screwed off in, I never went to class, and never was on time, therefore pissing off the professor who probably hated my guts. But now I have him again, and have vowed to always be on time, and always be there. It's a tough class too.
And Maureen, My lady, and I have volunteered to be his Research Volunteers for his big research project on First Year Psych Students, Funny I just typed psycho students. That's what we all are anyways, us Psych students. But he seems to like us a little bit more now.
While in the bathroom between classes, I saw a dead bug on the floor, and got to thinking. Why do us humans, think we can kill everything? Why do we play God to animals?
Shouldn't that be God's job?
Swatting at bugs with fly swatters, slaughtering perfectly healthy animals etc.
I will blog on this later.
Time for Social Psych!
There's this cute little chubby man that just came down to the lab and sat across from me. He looks like Santa should in the Summer, gray beard and stache. He's breathing loudly, which is making me want to laugh for some reason. He seems bored, or hot. It's kind of warm out today.
I have Social Psychology next, I had the same professor for a class before, that I basically screwed off in, I never went to class, and never was on time, therefore pissing off the professor who probably hated my guts. But now I have him again, and have vowed to always be on time, and always be there. It's a tough class too.
And Maureen, My lady, and I have volunteered to be his Research Volunteers for his big research project on First Year Psych Students, Funny I just typed psycho students. That's what we all are anyways, us Psych students. But he seems to like us a little bit more now.
While in the bathroom between classes, I saw a dead bug on the floor, and got to thinking. Why do us humans, think we can kill everything? Why do we play God to animals?
Shouldn't that be God's job?
Swatting at bugs with fly swatters, slaughtering perfectly healthy animals etc.
I will blog on this later.
Time for Social Psych!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
New School Day
So I just started my 5th and final year of College. I'm almost done, woo hoo! I 've noticed that this place seems to be so much more crowded than usual!! In one class this morning, Maureen, my darling girlfriend and I had to pull up an extra table, because we were out of seats. I barely made it through an entire row of strangers to an empty seat in my math class, which provoked more anxiety than I wanted to deal with. From now on, I will be way early for Math, to get a freaking seat, so I don't have to squeeze in front of a ton of people. I'm glad to be almost done. I can't wait.
So I have 4 classes, an Algebra class, I know... Algebra, for a "Super Senior" like myself, yes, I've had a horrible time in math in the past, but it was mostly my fault, rarely going to class, rarely doing the homework and almost always sleeping in class. What can I say, I was stupid. I'm a new student now. And I have a Psyiological Psychology class, a Research Methods class, and a Social Psychology class.
They all seem interesting. I've found out what the professor's game is, it's intimidate, intimidate, intimidate.
The math professor who I've had before, says, "And don't think that because you do well on your first test, that you'll do well on the others, because they are far harder than the first one.... Don't get too much confidence." Wow, why don't you beat us down right away!!
My Social Psych professor seems to be somewhat of a dick, which is kind of funny in a way, he is Chuck Norris obsessed, (Chuck Norris leads the horse to water, and makes it drink) and starts class with a tidbit of Chuck statements, or comics, or whatever. But tells us how petty he is, and if you piss him off, you'll pay.
And my idol of a teacher, Hendy, was as pleasant as usual, I adore her. We have a tough class with her this semester but I know I'll be fine.
I volunteered to help with a Research oppurtunity with my Social Psych Prof. You see, I'm trying to redeem my credibility with him. I took a Personality Psych class with him like 2 years ago, and rarely went, but passed, and when I went, I was on time. He pretty much disliked me, but I'm hoping that I can restore his liking of me, by being ON TIME, and always there as well as helping with a volunteer thing, which will get me a nice recommendation letter from him in the future.
Note to Self: Remember to write down all of these things for a resume now, so I don't forget them later.
So I have 4 classes, an Algebra class, I know... Algebra, for a "Super Senior" like myself, yes, I've had a horrible time in math in the past, but it was mostly my fault, rarely going to class, rarely doing the homework and almost always sleeping in class. What can I say, I was stupid. I'm a new student now. And I have a Psyiological Psychology class, a Research Methods class, and a Social Psychology class.
They all seem interesting. I've found out what the professor's game is, it's intimidate, intimidate, intimidate.
The math professor who I've had before, says, "And don't think that because you do well on your first test, that you'll do well on the others, because they are far harder than the first one.... Don't get too much confidence." Wow, why don't you beat us down right away!!
My Social Psych professor seems to be somewhat of a dick, which is kind of funny in a way, he is Chuck Norris obsessed, (Chuck Norris leads the horse to water, and makes it drink) and starts class with a tidbit of Chuck statements, or comics, or whatever. But tells us how petty he is, and if you piss him off, you'll pay.
And my idol of a teacher, Hendy, was as pleasant as usual, I adore her. We have a tough class with her this semester but I know I'll be fine.
I volunteered to help with a Research oppurtunity with my Social Psych Prof. You see, I'm trying to redeem my credibility with him. I took a Personality Psych class with him like 2 years ago, and rarely went, but passed, and when I went, I was on time. He pretty much disliked me, but I'm hoping that I can restore his liking of me, by being ON TIME, and always there as well as helping with a volunteer thing, which will get me a nice recommendation letter from him in the future.
Note to Self: Remember to write down all of these things for a resume now, so I don't forget them later.
New Blog
I just created this little blog, which I've wanted to do for a really long time. I know I barely blog on my myspace and stuff like that, but I thought I'd have a go. I often in daily life, see things that I'd like to write about, and this is my opportunity for that. So hope you read often, and enjoy!
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