This is my obligatory Valentine's Day post. So.. happy Valentine's Day, everyone!
I (llama) heart all of my readers!
Since today is all about love and hearts and stuff, I thought it would be a good day to post about one of my favorite llamas in the world. I love(d) him so much. His name was Gandhi (because he "sat in protest" every time someone tried to walk him). Gandhi was a screwed up, old llama. Probably pretty inbred, but he was such a nice fellow that it was pretty easy to ignore his hideousness.
Gandhi had been having some health issues for quite some time (lump on his jaw, trouble eating, etc). He was checked out by the vet multiple times, and we always gave him all of the special treatment he needed (which is why I got attached to him).
Before the summer started to get too hot last year, the llama shearers came to give all of the camelids haircuts, and I guess the stress was too much for Gandhi. The next day, we found his body in the pasture.
Being the gore-fascinated freak that I am, I requested to do a necropsy on him (I was also curious about why he had died, but I'm not a vet so I couldn't exactly make the diagnosis). I had never cut open such a large animal, so I set out with some friends, and we found a few tools we thought might be useful: a box cutter and a broken pair of branch trimmers.
The old, rusty scalpel I found wasn't going to cut through anything, so I sliced through Gandhi's muscles with that handy-dandy box cutter, and when I got to the ribs, I chopped through them with the branch trimmers. Our makeshift necropsy kit turned out to be surprisingly useful.
I look way too happy. I was sad that my friend died, I was dripping with sweat, and I was elbows deep in llama guts. Why am I smiling?!?
After exploring Gandhi's insides, I couldn't really say for sure how he died, but he did have a decent about of food debris in his trachea.. and that's not exactly a good thing.
To commemorate him, I dissected out Gandhi's big, beautiful, loving, llama heart and preserved it in an pickle jar (because a llama heart in a pickle jar is pretty hard to forget).
My hedgehog was supposed to have babies this week. I don't think it's going to happen, and I'm pretty bummed.
But. Otto is well on his way to becoming a therapy dog! All we need to work on is walking on the leash (he thinks he can pull me.. I think he has short man/dog syndrome), so I'm pretty excited. He was honestly one of the most well-behaved dogs at the pet therapy workshop (for a Yorkie, that's pretty impressive). I'm so proud of him. He didn't even poop in front of everyone (which he likes to do when we go to new places.. especially pet stores.. the other day, he took a gigantic poo at Alex's work, and some lady was gushing, yes, gushing about the amount of poop he produced.. it was awkward and embarrassing and horrible.. just horrible).
And today was awesome. So I guess the good things outweigh the lack of hedgie babies.
Today, I assisted with a physical exam on a Siamang, which is a lesser ape (a type of Gibbon, actually). And Siamangs are awesome. When I go to the zoo as a visitor, they are one of my favorite animals to see. They're so acrobatic and fun to watch!
I love them! I could seriously watch them flipping around like that for hours. I wish I was one of them... I was really hoping they would be super tame, but sadly, they were not (not the male that was examined, anyway). So the zookeeper got the male into a crate, and then we had to sedate him. He didn't exactly go down easy either.. he was pretty chill after he had a sedative shot, but when we tried to gas him, he woke up a little and fought the keeper that was trying to hold him (he was really strong, too.. I'm glad I wasn't the one holding him). We did basically every test that could possibly be needed while he was out, so I was frantically running around, processing his x-rays, handing things off to the vet, helping hold his limp head up, cleaning up nervous poop squirts, drawing up vaccinations, and doing whatever else the vet needed me to do. It was pretty hectic.
After all that work, we basically just confirmed that he was very healthy (except for his teeth.. they were kinda messed up, but it wasn't anything serious).
I was given one of his hand prints for helping. When the animals are out, they make prints like this to give to the keepers and to sell to people. Since I'm just an intern, I got one of the kinda messed up ones, but I'm totally okay with that (I honestly didn't expect to get one at all).
After our Siamang friend had recovered from anesthesia, we began preparing for surgery. On a bald eagle. I was so excited.
The eagle had a broken wing (likely the result of getting hit by a car), and we were going to attempt to pin the bones back into place so they could heal properly. I didn't actually get to catch this bird, but I'm kinda glad. It was freaking huge. And strong. And it had a giant beak.. that was kinda dripping blood because it had just ripped the head off of a rat before we went in to get it. So I just opened doors and put a towel over its head.
It looks so elegant even when it's all doped up. That can't be said for many species (humans included).
Unfortunately, when we cut the wing open to make sure that necrosis hadn't set in, we discovered that the bird's entire humerus was completely shattered, which basically meant that there was no way to pin it. The bird would never be able to fly again, and it would be in a lot of pain (physically, but probably mentally, too) for the rest of its life. Therefore, the vet decided that euthanasia would be the most humane option. So yeah... we killed this country's symbol animal. I've never felt so un-American. I hate that a broken bone can completely destroy an animal's life. It's so sad.
On a happier note, the zoo's mountain lion is getting a new friend! It's going to be a while because the mountain lion coming in is still a cub (and was just rescued), so it will be hanging out with people for a bit before being introduced to the other guy, who seemed kinda lonely last time I visited him. I'm really happy he's getting a companion.
So hippos are supposed to be one of the most dangerous animals in Africa.
(For more info about the horribleness of hippos, check out this interesting question/answer thing: http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1862/are-hippos-the-most-dangerous-animal).
Look at those ferocious beasts. (Picture credit: sodahead.com)
But today, I met a hippo. A hippo named Henry. And he was the most adorable, calm, well-behaved animal I have met in a long while (apart from my dogs, that is).
I was working with the vet, and we were called down to check on a mass in Henry's mouth. I was expecting him to be sedated or something when we got there, but nope. He was wide awake, swimming around in his pond. When we went into his enclosure, he swam right up to us and opened his mouth (much like the hippo in the picture below). And he kept it open. For like, 5 minutes straight.
Those teeth.... (Picture credit: huntercourse.com)
I guess he's been trained to do that for treats, which makes it very easy to look inside his mouth (luckily for us). But then the vet stuck her arm inside his mouth to poke around on his teeth, and I was like, "Dude, what the heck are you doing? He's going to snap that mouth shut, and you're going to lose an arm." But he didn't. He was actually quite accommodating and really sweet. So much so that I worked up the courage to pet his wet, bristly nose. And then.... I, too, stuck my hand in his mouth.
Yeah. I stuck my hand in a hippo's mouth. It was amazing. I'm pretty sure people in Africa would think I'm like a god or something (or maybe they would just think I'm crazy...).
But anyway, Henry's mouth was basically okay. He had a big lump where a tooth had fractured, but it wasn't causing him any pain, so they're just going to keep an eye on it for now.
Other than this, my day was uneventful. But I'm pretty sure I have a new favorite animal.
Before I begin, I would just like to take a moment to update everyone on Bosley/Boslyn's post-surgery recovery.
Unfortunately, his hyper obnoxiousness did not decrease in the slightest, which is why he is wearing the cone of shame. I've given him chances to prove that he can behave and not chew at his empty ball sack, but alas, only the cone will keep him from searching for his missing testicles.
I'm a little jealous that my cat got a tattoo before I did. Not jealous of the gnarly cauterizing job on his sack, though (at least I think that's why it's like that.. I took him to a new vet, and they do things differently there).
So all is well in that department. Now onto the babies...
I've talked a little bit about euthanasia in some of my previous posts, and I've definitely talked about some of the nastier things I've done as a pre-vet student, but my absolute LEAST favorite thing to do, the thing that sends shivers down my spine and makes my inner child rock back and forth in a corner, is dewclaw removals and tail docking.
I know what you're thinking. "That doesn't sound that bad. How could it be worse than euthanasia?" Well, in some cases it isn't worse, but usually (definitely not always) there is a legitimate reason for putting an animal down, and even when there isn't, it is done in the most painless, humane way possible. I can handle that. I can handle dewclaw removals and tail docking, too, but I don't like it. It takes all the strength I have to not whimper and cringe through every second of it. This is why:
Picture credit goes to dogbreedinfo.com
Newborn freaking baby puppies. 3 days old tops. That's how old they are when their tiny, little, vestigial digits and tails are pinched, twisted, and ripped off of them. No pain killers or anything.
Honestly, the dewclaw removal I can kind of understand. They just kinda dangle there, and the puppies don't seem to be super bothered when those are removed (I mean, they still cry and shriek, but it's nothing compared to the tail docking). And there is some benefit to it, I guess, because when they get older, dewclaws do get caught on things easier and rip on their own (which heals a lot slower than purposeful removal). So there's that.
But ugh. Holding those squirming, squealing babies while you rip off their toes and cauterize the wound just feels horrible. (Picture credit goes to astraean.com.)
But tail docking? That's purely aesthetic. There is no reason for it at all except that people, for whatever reason, think it makes the breed look more appealing (some people argue that dogs sustain tail injuries, but honestly, it doesn't happen that often even to working dogs, and most of the dogs that go through this are ones that are fortunate enough to spend their lives being pampered.. like my spoiled, little turd, Otto). Much like ear cropping. And it hurts a hell of a lot more (than the dewclaw removal, I mean... ear cropping probably hurts worse than this because it's such a slow recovery). You can tell. You know, because there's this tiny puppy screaming bloody murder in your hands while its tail is being twisted off. It's the worst sound I have ever heard.
Sorry for the sad, puppy gore. (Picture credit to anti-dockingalliance.com.)
It's not like I despise people that get their dogs' tails docked or dewclaws removed or even ears cropped. I definitely won't be trying to talk anyone into it anytime soon, but this is just another one of those things I have to become accustomed to if I want to become a vet. Because I'll actually have to be the one ripping (not just the puppy holder). And it's going to suck.
I guess it gets to me so much because they're just babies, man. Just babies.
On a lighter note, here's a picture of my very own tail dockee staring intently at an apple core:
He likes to play with them and nibble on them. And guard them. Which is what he is doing here.
This post is going to jump around a bit because day two of my internship was rather uneventful, but....
I hung out with some of these guys again!
And marmosets are always fun if you can get past their fruity pee smell. It's pretty rank.
I also took Bosley to the vet today to (finally) be neutered. I'm really not looking forward to picking him up in the morning because I know his hatred for me is going to amplified by about a million. He's probably waking up from anesthesia right now, plotting the best way to murder me in his doped-up haze. I guess I'll be sleeping with one eye open for a while.
Bosley, before testicle amputation. Don't worry, I'll provide an "after", too. I think I'll start calling him "Boslyn"...
And finally, I received an incredibly late Christmas present last night, but it's okay that it's so late because its awesomeness makes up for it.
Yep, that's a dog carrier. It doesn't look like one, which is partially why it's so awesome (comes in handy when you sneak your dog to class on occasion), but it's just nice and roomy and convenient. I love it. Especially since both of my dogs will fit in it at the same time (with some cramping).
Otto loves it, too. I can't leave it open on the ground without him climbing in and refusing to get out. He's such a weirdo.
Stay tuned for some baby animal posts later this week (but maybe not the baby animals you would expect....).
Disappointing stuff first: the majority of my day was spent doing paperwork. The vet wasn't there for most of the day, so there wasn't a ton of stuff to do. So that was kinda lame, but the things I did get to do totally made up for it...
First, I got to help (sorta) with taking care of a Geoffroy's marmoset that wasn't eating well. Not super exciting.
But look how cute they are! (I didn't get any pictures of my own because I'm not sure if they want me to post them on the internet, but I'll ask next week.)
Then I got to hang out with some giant tortoises. One started coming at me at full tortoise throttle, and I seriously thought it was going to run over me. It had its neck stretched out and its mouth open, and it was terrifying (the thing was the size of a smart car... almost.. ish). I quickly jumped the heck out of its way. Turns out, it just wanted me to scratch its neck. :/
This is not a perspective trick. That's really how big they are. (Sorry random person whose picture I borrowed..)
Then I met two adorable red foxes, but you guys know what those look like. They were adorable, but very, very smelly.
And finally..... I got to catch/hold a Barn Owl and a Great Horned Owl. It was awesome.
They are so pretty. I wanted to steal the one I met today (not really... well.. kinda).
These guys look a little grumpier.. they are normally more aggressive than the barns, but the guy I worked with today was too weak to fight me much. :(
The zoo's hospital does raptor rehabilitation, and these guys were brought in today (not the ones in the pictures, but they basically look the same.. just less healthy in the great horned owl's case). The barn owl was completely blind, and someone found it on the side of a road. I'm not sure about the great horned owl. He seemed to be kinda old and was super skinny and weak.
The vet tech I was working with was like, "Normally I make people watch me catch one first, but you've had other animal experience, so I trust you." It was a little sudden, but I wasn't going to complain. She explained the best way to catch them, and off I went.
I struggled a little with the barn owl. Aside from his blindness, he was in really good shape, and he clamped onto my arm like he wanted to eat it. He also bit me (no damage done, though; I was wearing those super protective falconryish gloves). The great horned owl was super easy to handle, though, which is not a good thing.
I've never gotten to work with birds of prey like this, but I've always wanted to. I felt like Harry Potter. It was an awesome experience. And now I'm going to be WAY more disappointed if I don't get into vet school because I know that the vet school has a raptor rehab program, too.
Just a few more months... April, please be good to me.
One day I was assisting with an ear laceration surgery on a dog (note: this is not the same thing as ear cropping.. this is a more medically necessary surgery to repair damage). My job was to hold the dog's ear and the gas mask (since we couldn't tie it around his head like we normally would), so naturally, my face was pretty close to the dog's face.
Everything was going fine, but then I started sweating profusely. Then I got really, really cold. Then I was overcome with dizziness. Then I thought I was going to throw up all over the surgery table. I had to get out of there.
I asked to be excused (one of the techs took over for me) and ran straight to the bathroom. Amazingly, I didn't vomit. I probably should have, but god, I hate vomiting. I'll hold it in as long as I possibly can. After my stomach calmed down a bit, I stumbled over to one of the waiting room benches. Then everything went dark.
I woke up a few minutes later, my brain still really foggy and my entire body drenched from sweat. One of the techs asked me if I was okay. I said I was, but I mean, they just watched me pass out on the bench so I'm pretty sure they saw straight through that one. I tried to stand up, but I was still a bit too dizzy for that. It was a good two hours before I started to feel normal again.
Later that day, the vet asked me what happened. I had no idea. It couldn't have been the blood. That has never bothered me in the slightest. And I didn't think I was sick because I would still be feeling bad, wouldn't I? Then the vet said, "Well, you had your face pretty close to that gas mask. I bet you were breathing in the anesthesia."
And yes, that was exactly what happened. So yeah.. breathing in drugs that are not meant for you is a very bad idea with very unpleasant consequences. That lesson has been learned.
