The Niche

Niche: noun

noun: niche; plural noun: niches

1. 
a shallow recess, esp. one in a wall to display a statue or other ornament.

2. In ecology, a niche (CanE, UK /ˈniːʃ/ or US /ˈnɪtʃ/)[1] is a term describing the way of life of a species.

Simple terms: a niche is filling a role, a spot. It’s filling a place you are suited best for. For animals and plants, everything in nature has an ecological niche. For example, koalas eat eucalyptus leaves, and nothing else does. Over many years, thousands, ten of thousands of years, koalas have found their niche. A unique place in life that’s best suits them and assures their place in nature. For us humans, the niche to most is more of a job than anything else. But it still is, nevertheless a niche of sorts.

I gave up a job I loved, a job I thought I was good at to go back to school to become a veterinarian. Quickly, I knew my niche was in the field of shelter medicine. Helping homeless critters find a home, promoting their quality of life, even if that life was going to be cut short due too euthanasia- too many pets, not enough homes. Helping promote adoptions, reducing the euthanasia rate in the US is my passion.  I really hope that one day, I will put myself out of a job; that there will be no more need for a massive spay/neuter movement. I don’t think I will see that in my lifetime.  But, at this point in time, I am helping it happen. I’m helping us get there. Spay/neuter surgeons everywhere are helping us get closer. A community can get there, closer to no longer euthanizing healthy adoptable animals.  This once was a thought that people had, but felt it was impossible, that it was hopeless.  I am lucky that my community is a role model for my passions. And I’m even luckier that I now, as a vet, get to be a part of it.

Jacksonville has had many “no-kill” months recently in our local shelters. “No-kill” doesn’t mean zero euthanasia; it means that 90% of adoptable animals get out alive. I still believe that euthanasia is the best gift we can give an animal in certain situations: medically necessary/untreatable within reason, severe behavioral issues, etc. Jacksonville, Florida is the model city for what this nation can achieve. It’s happening, it’s no longer a dream. We ARE doing this. And if Jacksonville can, why not even smaller communities?  Why not bigger?

It is hard to find a huge selection on unwanted puppies in this community, and we are getting there with kittens too. I am honored to be a part of the mission of this city- No More Homeless Pets.  Because I grew up in a city, live in a city, and now work in that city that is truly making this happen. I got lucky. I have found my niche. And I couldn’t be happier.

  

"Why"?

Why? That is the simplest question that we can ask, and it starts at a very young age.  Why is the sky blue? Why can’t I stay up till midnight? Why can’t I borrow the car?

“Why” is basic, but when you think about it, “why” is deeper than that. As a teenager and into young adulthood, you ask a bunch more of “why” questions, and then even contemplate the biggest question of all, “Why are we here?”

At some point, people either quit asking, keep asking, or think they’ve found the answer to that last question. I think that never finding the answer is more important.  Never finding an answer pushes you to continue to ask more questions. Questions are good. It motivates you drives you, and consistently allows you for never to settle for less, and more importantly, to keep on learning.  Over the past 38 years, 4 years, and 4 weeks, I have been constantly asking, “Why?” The content of the “Why” questions change constantly.  The more I ask the questions, the more similar they get to what we ask when we are little humans just starting into the world.

I fell in love with homeless animals. I don’t know why, and I don’t know when. Sometimes, I think it began after my first year of vet school. But when I look back, I was saving earthworms off of the sidewalk when I was 5, hoping they would not fry after a hard rain on the next sunny day.  The inner desire to save an animal and be emotionally invested in their future has been with me for as long as I can remember.

I have been fortunate to attend a veterinary school that has a strong program in my interests and has reinforced what I felt when I was young. I have found that there are people I can relate to, laugh with, cry with, and succeed with.

The most recent reminder of my “why” has the name of “Chandler”. Chandler was one of ~ 700 cats in a cat hoarding case. He was deemed to be a feral cat by many. Since the hoarding case was being contested, Chandler and the other cats were kept for months in kennels, wondering what their outcome would be.  In October, eight months after living in a kennel, I acquired Chandler and two other feral cats from the case. The two tortoiseshell cats are basically feral, not wanting my company. But then there is Chandler.  He has chosen to have quite the personality, comes when I call and even seeks out an occasional brushing. He has become quite the character, and has reinforced my “Why”. He has reinforced that the love for an animal isn’t a one way street. They can love back, and they can appreciate your efforts when you reach out to them.  

Rags (Tail) Riches

T’was the summer of 2010. I had been invited to help gather evidence in a dog fighting case. I had just finished my freshmen year of vet school; what a better way to help me get to know the vets better than to help out when they needed a hand. I was pretty darn excited to be able to participate.The dog situation was bad. Let me start off by saying the man involved was just conviced last week (May 2012) of 6 GUILTY verdicts!!!! That was an awesome feat of teamwork, and I am honored to have been a part of it. 

What I was not prepared for at that time, was to come home with three cats. We spent 3 days at the shelter location working on the dogs, performing physical exams, vaccinating, and performing behavioral assessments with no A/C in blaring heat. During that time, several animals arrived on intake at a location where the euthanasia rate was/is almost 100%. Several cats, kittens, and dogs arrived during my time there. Saving the other critters wasn't supposed to be our job, but the vets and myself just couldn't ignore the other animals in that shelter at that time that needed us.  I assessed how much I could realistically take on, and took 3. The 3 kittens hissed initially, but I was convinced I could turn them away from the dark side :). The vets and other volunteers took a few dogs and literally saved their lives.

I proceeded to head back home with 3 fuzzy kittens: Bob, Fred, and Eddie. Eddie and Bob turned pretty quick. Belly rubs ensued, the purring began, they found homes and the rest is history. But Fred was a little more determined to stay reserved.

I worked with him for several months before he became sweet as pie. He went from a fractious cat to a snuggler, and it just took a lot of understanding, patience, and a whole lot of love. What amazed me about Fred was his tail. His tail became enormous. It was a beautiful specimen of fuzziness, and he knew it and flaunted it. I began posting daily photos on my Facebook of him, and even started a page called “The Tail Chronicles”.

I swear this cat was mixed with a different species than feline. Raccoon maybe? A pretty shy cat around anyone other me, I was convinced at that point I was just going to have to keep him. He went to an adopt-a-thon and didn’t fair well at all. Too many people, too much noise. He would have to be adopted by someone that was cat savvy, someone who would just give him the time he would need to adjust. I thought it would never happen. I was picky about who he was going to go home with. But in the end, it was his tail that stood out, and his tail that ultimately saved him. Afterall, that tail seemed prohensile!

A friend on mine on Facebook fell in love with Fred. His personality came through in the photos, and it was a cat that she now decided she couldn’t be without. Fred’s story is a good one. Not only was he adopted into a fabulous home, my friend also adopted my other adult foster cat with which he became close to, Ginger. Ginger played hard to get, but she eventually couldn't resist.

Fred was surrendered to a place where he was destined to be euthanized, one where the conditions of the “shelter” were absolutely unacceptable to spend the last 3 days of his life.  He, hands down, was going to die. The only reason he didn't because I was invited to assist on a case by a couple of vets who barely knew me. That invite didn't only save those 3 kittens, it saved a few dogs. That invite didn't only help get 6 gulity verdicts. That invite molded my entire future, the career of shelter medicine. That invite helped give me connections that I still know today.  That desire was already there, but this experience brought my passions to center stage.

Fred is now living in Virginia, with all the love that a person could possibly provide.

He reminded me that I can’t save them all, but I can save one at a time. It's like the starfish story: so what if it makes a difference to only one? Fred literally went from rags to riches....and all it took was the Tail inbetween.

700 Times

This past summer I fell in love. I fell in love with many kitties….some of them didn’t feel the love I felt for them, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I knew they needed me, but I also quickly discovered how much I needed every single one of them.

I try live every day to try to make a difference in the world. I think we all do when we are younger. In high school, we all at some point think we can do something better. Change the world, or at minimum make a difference somewhere along the line. But I still feel this way, many years later down the line. I think that is what the field of veterinary medicine can offer, every single day. Some may think my statement is too bold, or just something I typed up in one moment in one day. But to those who know me well, they know this is true…and my actions are bolder than my words. I will always fight for an animal, with all I have, within medical reason as hard as I can.

Am I crazy? Maybe. If my classmates had to select the “crazy cat lady” in our class, I’m sure I’d be the obvious choice. I cannot deny the passion that runs through me every day, the love and compassion I have for feline medicine. This summer I volunteered with the Haven Acres cat rescue with HSUS. I was lucky enough to have 4 weeks of vacation during my clinical rotations this summer. I didn’t get paid, I didn’t receive college credit. I just went. I have spent over 225 hours with these cats and continue to help today. I have no regrets, and I have made an investment in my educational future, and to the cats that were rescued. They deserved that, and so much more than I can ever give.

This summer, I have met cat lovers and animal lovers from all over the nation in the last few months. Some were with local animal response teams, some were from the local community, and other were volunteers with the Humane Society of the United States. They all have my utmost respect. They share my passion: be the voice for them when no one else wants to listen. This summer, as a collective team, we were the voice for these cats.

Of the 700 cats seized, 258 were adopted during the massive “Feline 550 Adopt-A-Thon”. Many cats had to be euthanized due to medical reasons. Others were pulled by rescue groups from many different areas. As of October 1^st, there are STILL ~ 170 cats that are looking for their forever homes. Sweet, beautiful kitties…and I wonder what runs through their minds. These cats have stayed so sweet, so loyal, so trusting, after all of the horrible things they have been through.

I know what I want to do upon graduation. Be a voice for those that can’t speak for themselves. Be the friend for all the felines out there who need one. Work in disaster relief efforts, hoarding cases, and in shelter medicine. Just like the man who was asked why he was throwing a starfish back into the water… I know I can’t save them all. But the ones I do save, it makes a difference to them. Sometimes, I may be their only shot at a second chance.

This past summer I fell in love. Not once, not twice, but 700 times. They will always have a piece of my heart, even if they can’t give it back.

How to do Without?

I miss it. When people tell me that I got out of public education at “just the right time” I tend to have doubts. When I entered the public school system 11 years ago, the tone was pretty much the same. “This is the worst year ever.” Or how about, “The budget is as bad as I’ve seen it.”? Another favorite, “The kids are getting worse every year.” These statements may be true, or they may be just relative to the times. But one thing I have never doubted: I miss teaching high school. That doesn’t mean I’ll go right back to it and drop out of vet school, but there are some definite positives.

1. You are a family. Bottom line. You have the blood family, and then the extended one. And the extended family (the one you work with all the time) is the one that really understands you. They all know you are jacked-up crazy. But they are jacked-up crazy too, and that somehow makes everything alright. Even when you go to a new profession or switch schools, they are there for you.

2. The chance to change the world. As cliché as that sounds, you really do that. If you’ve got 100 kids, and you make one of them a little more human, you’ve done you’re job. To me, if one of my former kids stops to save a puppy in the middle of the road in the future, rather than squashing it, I did my job. I deep down also hope that everytime they see a squirrel or a duck, that sympathy is demonstrated from their little souls.

3. The bond is forever. Your collegues help you move if you go from one place to another. They deal with your bad days, and they still love you no matter how much crap you throw at them. This may be seen as some to be listed under item number one. But trust me, I’ve thrown a lot of crap in my life and these people still speak to me. This blantantly amazes me. Either the statement is true, or I just haven’t found the appropriate threshold level of crap yet to toss their way.

4. Tradegies may define you, but they do not divide you. You learn from mistakes. You embrace what you had, and you seek the future for some sort of relief. Even if you know the future cannot provide it. Struggles in life come and go. How you handle them defines your character. They test your soul to see if it is true. And you don’t care about passing the test. You just want to survive to the next day, and then the day after that.


So yesterday, a tradegy occurred. I and many others will never be the same after losing our friend. My sister will be torn apart for many years after losing her BEST friend. But she was one of “us”. She changed the world. She moved mountains. Her bond with her collegues and students will be forever. So today, I miss the profession and hope to never be astranged from it. The most difficult part of life is life itself. So when times get hard, where do I run to? My friends and my family in the field of education.

Allison, we love you and don’t know what the hell we are gonna do without you.

Poo- but the good kind

It all started (I think) with Zorak the snake. I named him snakey-poo, in addition to just plain ole Zorak. I deep down (in that secret place we sometimes never talk about) wanted a snake. I am not sure why. I didn't grow up with reptiles, but I was always mesmerized with them. I got snakey-poo when I was an undergrad at UWF. Pets were disallowed in the dorms, but many people had them and we just kept our mouths shut. I snuck Zorak into the library, and even into class once. He actually toured most of the campus. No one knew, except my roommate who thought it was quite funny that I was sneaking a 8 inch baby snake around campus. We'll just leave it at that.

Then came "bun". I had a snakey-poo, so there eventually there was a "bun". I'm not sure which animal first got "bun" in their name... but I'm pretty sure it was Rocky. Rocky quickly turned into Rocky-bun. The squirrel who quickly became the center of my universe. You know that song " Rocky-Top Tennessee"?? Well, I have an entire new version of that song....Rocky-bun you'll awlays be, a super squirrel to me..... Yes, my squirrel loves that new version, because it's all about him.

Then there was bunhead... what I called my husband. Instead of calling him a sh**head when he did something I adamantly disapproved of (which was often), I said "bunhead" instead. I was trying to be nice.

So there it was: my squirrel was Rocky-bun. I had a Bun-head-poo too. Then there was this tuxedo female cat who showed up starving at our door. I picked out the name Sadie, but she quickly became Sadie-bun. She only howls at you when you say her full name. 'Sadie' alone doesn't get any response at all.

Then my sister became a mommy, and I an aunt. When the little sweetheart popped out, I instantly named her Munchkin-Bun. I have no idea why, other than the fact I'm not anything close to mentally normal anyway. And so it was- she's the MB...that's what I call my niece and it has stuck. Munchkin-Bun it is. She even starts to dance around now when I sing her a special song.

I have fostered cats while in vet school, one of which I named Princess Leigh-Bun; yes I have a Star Wars obsession. But here we ago again- returning to" bun". So there is definitely a lot of Poo (and Bun) in my life.

But now, I am known as Aunt-Poo by my niece. Poo can be bad I guess. When it gets stuck to the bottom of your shoe when you least expect it; one is obviously not pleased. Poo is bad when you smell it while driving near a landfill. Poo is definitely bad when you have it on your hands. Poo is no fun to scoop out of the litter box. You have poo on your whole darn arm while palpating a cow, and this probably isn't pleasing (to most). But I don't mind being called Aunt-poo by the Munchkin-Bun, as long as it's not the bad kind.

The Less I Understand

So I have officially finished my first year of vet school. In the classroom, it felt like a 5th year of undergrad, while trying to breathe out of a straw. It's funny how your goals change month to month, week to week, and even sometime, day to day. I came in wanting to graduate with a 3.5, but now I'll be ecstatic with a 3.0. And some days of school, I was happy as heck just to pass. I enjoyed most of my courses, and loathed others. I think my favorite are was definitely all of the histology we were exposed to. Just not in histology class, but throughout our other courses as well. I like seeing things at the microscopic level to get the big picture.

What I enjoyed most were the club activities; what we call "wet labs". I got to do necropsies on calves, cows, and a kitten. I neutered 2 feral cats (and yes, they both lived). I am not aware of any other schools (although I know there must be some) where you actually get to do surgery as a freshmen. I sutured an eye shut and declawed a couple of claws- both activities on cadavers. I was able to attend a trip to see a dairy goat farm in action. I went to a rabbit handling lab, and even went to a bird lab where I was able to clip the wings of a beautiful macaw. Opportunities outside of the classroom abound here, and I wish I could do it all.

When I look back at the year and reflect, it didn't seem that hard. That is however in retrospect. I spent a few nights struggling, wanting it all to end because it was so rigorous. That which doesn't kill you truly makes you stronger.

My summer plans are teaching, working at a vet clinic where I got my start, traveling to Mizzou to grade AP Biology exams for a week, going to Europe for 12 days, and painting my mom's kitchen.... all while taking 9 credit hours for my Master's in Public Health degree. Why get one degree in vet school, when you can get two?

I was able to continue teaching at the college I was an adjunct at for the past 10 years on Saturdays, so now I get my teaching fix back. And I am having more fun than ever with it, because I get to share some of the knowledge that I have immediately back to other students.

It's also taken a little financial stress off since I have a job. I do miss teaching high school.... more than I thought I would. But I know that one skill helps you accomplish the next task a little easier. Being a teacher for so long has truly made this transition into vet school easier for me than I thought. I just feel like I am right where I am supposed to be at this point in my life.

In my personal statement to apply to school, I said that I was a "life long learner". I thought is sounded rather catchy, a little nervous if I really knew what I was getting myself into. At the close of the year I see that I am exactly that, and ready for more (after a few months off anyway). The more you know, the less you understand- and that is when you truly are learning. I can't get enough of it.