2016 or Starting in a New Direction…Come what may

“Po: Maybe I should just quit and go back to making noodles.”

Thought this New Year would be like any other New Year’s spent in the past:  bed by 10pm New Year’s Eve and waking up to the same old same way on New Year’s Day.

I was wrong.

First…

I made plans to go out on New Year’s Eve, to eat, drink and be merry. I did eat, drink and was merry by sipping on bourbon drinks, champagne, sparkling wine and eating at a restaurant in the hood with some special people who made socializing for an introvert comfortable.

Second…

Leading up to the New Year was not so good job wise. I left the job that hired me when no other would. Not going into specifics, it was a decision based on hurt. Hurtful in the way my boss handled a dispute with a co worker-by, doing, nothing. It seems as if climactic events in mi vida spur up at this time of year.

“When the path you walk always leads back to yourself, you never get anywhere” Oogway 

The time had come to move on and although I’ve known this for a while, pushing myself to do so was another thing. Comfort/Familiarity at times can stifle growth. Why take a chance, throwing your back to wind, and riding on a gust when it’s easier to slip into flannel pajamas and watch a marathon of SVU on the tube?

By leaving this job, I’ve placed my school in jeopardy as I no longer have a preceptor. My fur babies no longer have a doctor. My discounts from working there are no longer available which puts me on high alert in regards to providing pet care and meds for the fur babies.

It’s okay.

“One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it” Oogway

New-Year-Eve-2016

Third…

I am working in a Specialty Hospital in Emergency Room and Internal Medicine. I am WAY OVER my head and up to now don’t understand why I was hired as a Tech. I enjoy what I do although it is hard to deal with some of the ER cases or dealing with emergency mode when techs and doctors are trying to resuscitate an animal to no avail. I have trouble calculating meds and I’m not familiar with some of the meds or lab machines used in this specialty. At times, I feel like an idiot and question why I was not hired as an assistant when it seemed this was the direction the interview process was leading to.

But…

I was told I qualify under “License Eligible” due to my enrollment in a vet tech program. I want to believe an accident was made but…

“There are no accidents” Oogway

So begins 2016 and I have no worries about the past because it is done. No worries about the future (at least let me believe I don’t) and presently I am okay with where I’m at.

 

Confrontation at the Watering Hole…(aka-the bathroom sink)

I thought bringing a second cat in the home would have many benefits.

I thought Tara-Habby was in need of a sister, another cat who could share in the tormenting of the two mini schnauzers, whom she deemed privileged to live with her.

I thought two cats are better than one.

I thought Tara-Habby and Winnie would be the best of friends, grooming each other, playing and getting stoned on catnip together.

I thought…

WRONG!

My household is now a battle ground between two female cats, one who wants to play and the other bent on showing the other one who’s the boss.

Hissing, meowing, chasing, racing, climbing, catnip stonage used to refuel the hissing, meowing, chasing racing, climbing!

Why can’t they just get along?

They do. In their own way.

The hissing does not require my spray water bottle intervention.

The meowing does not require the use of my strong voice mode of ‘Stop It!’

The chasing, racing, climbing just requires my getting out of the way.

The catnip stonage…yeah…I admit to being their catnip dealer.

Tara-Habby and Winnie’s relationship is a work in progress and they may never be the BFF’s I’d hope them to be.

And that’s absolutely okay by me.

Gathering at the watering hole
Gathering at the watering hole

 

Are you challenging me?
Are you challenging me?
Back down kitty!
Back down kitty!

 

Bring it on!!!
Bring it on!!!

Gus…

Yesterday, I saved a dog on a Saturday morning in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

He was running across a busy street known as Prospect Park West, adjacent  to Prospect Park in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I was on my way to work at the clinic about to cross this street to walk on the side of the park when a dog ran into the middle of traffic.

Well…

I ran out into the middle of traffic to stop the cars from potentially running over the dog.

Well…

The dog and myself were lucky enough to not meet HIM, our maker that day. I was able to hold back traffic but not the dog,  now running down a block. The Farmers Market was taking place at the time so lots of humans were roaming the area. I called out to a jogger, “Please grab the dog”. He did so, hesitantly.

I made my way towards the dog and slowed down my pace as I approached it with my hand extended. The dog sat down, tail wagging and the jogger released his hold on the harness.

I wrapped my fingers around the metal link and did not let go.

The dog had tags on the collar…!

This is not Gus but he looks like him.
This is not Gus but he looks like him.

I sat on the curb, with Gus leaning on me, as a small crowd of witnesses gathered. I called the owners, balancing the tag with the info and punching the numbers into my cell. Others from the crowd volunteered to hold Gus.

I declined.

I was not going to let this angel out of my fingers.

A voice responded to my call and the wife of the husband who was walking the dog in Prospect Park was hysterical. She was at work and had no idea this transpired. I told her our location and promised to wait until her husband arrived.

Meanwhile the crowd slowly dispersed as I relayed the information about the owner coming.

Boy…was I gonna be late for work.

I’ve worked at PPAC for over a year now and cannot recall a time I was late.

It was hard to move with him as he was too big for me to carry with my bags and I had no leash to guide him but we made our way over to a nearby bench.

I heard the husband-owner  calling to Gus before seeing him as my back was turned to the side. He ran up to us and Gus was so excited to see his owner. He thanked me profusely, saying I saved his kids’ lives because if he returned home without Gus, they would be devastated. He apologized and admitted while in the park with Gus, he took his eyes off him for a moment, and he was gone. He wanted my address, to send flowers, to drop off a gift. I declined and I stretched out my hand. He grasped it firmly and we shook. He had tears in his eyes and I almost broke down crying.

Well…

Prior to this happening I was making my way to work was feeling discouraged and experiencing serious second doubts about my career choice. It can be frustrating and confusing at times when doubt seeps in the alma.

I love climbing mountains, and I love challenges and I feel stuck in a rut right now-a rut caused by my own psyche and wanting to know everything all at once.

Gus was a sign, in a strange way. Meeting him on that Saturday morning was a wake-up call.

I am, where I am supposed to be right here and now.

When I made it to work, I was deemed a hero. I saved Gus’ life. The owner (wife) phoned and asked for my info to send a gift.

I declined…again.

I told her I was a vet tech and she laughed and said Gus was lucky to have run into me. She asked where I worked and I told her.  Hopefully, we’ll get another client.

In the meantime, thank you Gus.

Yesterday, a dog named Gus saved me on a Saturday morning in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

 

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…

It is now two months into my career transition from an Administrative Assistant to that of a Veterinary Technician Assistant.

The transition was subtle and quiet.

My former job was mundane and my interest waned. I arrived at my new job on day two and was tossed into ‘trial by fire’ for on that day the boss had me deal with cat/dog restraints, surgeries, and filling chemo prescriptions. I survived and did not faint or throw up during the surgery.

The cat restraints look like this:

I complained at one time of sitting too much at the former job-now I stand for eight hours a shift. I eat lunch standing, I fill prescriptions standing, I assist with surgery standing…I stand.

I complained at one time of being disturbed during my one hour lunch break. Now, there are no lunch hour breaks, no five-minute break, no eating my bagel before starting the day’s work. No break.

I complained about the mundane repetitive duties. Now, some duties are repetitive but the clients and animals always present a new experience.

I complained about boredom and no room for growth. I now give medical injections and express the bladder of the resident kitty, who cannot do so on her own, as well as walking and cleaning up after dog boarders and medical boarders while simultaneously running the washer and dryer and cleaning up cat litter trays…this stops here.

Am I unhappy with the transition? No. Do I miss my other job? No. Have I thought about my other job? No.

After a shift, I return home pumped with adrenaline from the day’s work and it takes a while for it to dissipate. I do not come home stressed out or angry. I do not go to work stressed out and angry.

My former job:

The sound of work at my current job:

I like my current job.

Free At Last…Part 1

July 31, 2o13

After two- years working as an Admin Assistant at a MICA women’s’ shelter in downtown Brooklyn, (far from my ‘hood but going through the same gentrification which destroyed mine)..I am now FREE!

Free to pursue my interest…school and working as a Vet Tech Assistant

Free of an unhealthy environment…I no longer inhale crack cocaine, cigarettes or marijuana on a 40 hour five days a week basis

Free of verbal and abusive violence…some from the clients, most from the staff

Free of all medical and dental benefits…now is not the time to need an appendectomy

Free of a mediocre salary…now I earn enough to qualify for the status of “below the poverty line”

Free of working with others my age…we will not go there just yet, still adjusting…

As of now, I work one day a week with fill in days at a neighbourhood veterinary practice. The practice is housed in a four-story limestone building across from Prospect Park, Brooklyn, New York, and a twenty-minute walk from my house. images[1]

The owner of the practice responded to my resume posted to a vet tech employment site. He called to schedule an interview two days after receiving it and I met him one day later, 6:30pm on a Friday evening. The interview was five minutes with a twenty-minute tour of the facility. I shadowed one day a week, (no pay) for about a month and officially hired August 1.

This was my third interview for a vet tech position, older in age than most entering a new field and thankfully this one came through! The owner was impressed with my cover letter, which, states where I come from-job wise and where I would like to go -passion wise. And yes, he is older than me, which I am sure helped in the hiring decision.

I’ve learned cat and dog restraint, how to feed a finicky chinchilla medicine and most importantly dodging lethal attacks from the in house resident rescue Chihuahua who has a thing for people of colour (he was found tied to a hydrant with his bed and it is possible he was abused by a person of colour, hence his desire to attack anyone darker than an office manila folder).20130804_151201

I also learned quite a bit on laboratory testing, administering meds with a pill popper and vaccines as well as aseptic techniques and medical jargon…this can go on but it stops here.

I assisted in an abdominal exploratory surgery. The poor doggie swallowed a rubber ball and only half was expelled. The rest? Found in his intestines, which were blazing red from the intrusion. I survived the procedure, did not faint and was able to monitor his pulse, blood pressure, and anesthesia and still eat sausage later in the week.

This experience is an exciting change from sitting behind a desk in an uncomfortable chair pushing papers and each day of work brings the opportunity to learn something new.
20130811_102013

Been a long time…

It’s been a long time since my words made their way onto a page.

Transitions continue to subtly move within mi alma and guide me towards the shifts needed to move from a mind-numbing rut into a forward moving , thinking with anticipation, embracing the changes strut. images[7]

I enrolled in an online vet tech program, in the process of completing my first semester of full time classes, gave two week notice, verbal and written at the 40 hour a week MICA shelter, began a part-time Sunday only vet tech assisting job, sent out resumes too numerous to mention, went and hopefully will continue to go on interviews and it’s all good. Being in my late 40’s, going through the changes and no, not menopause, makes it all good.

There have been kill-joys who wrinkle their noses upon learning of yet another of my career changes and that’s all good too. At least, I am blessed to have had the opportunity to explore and indulge where my passions take me-blowing in the wind.

But sometimes

The wind may die down and you drop where it stops and fall into a hole. The hole can feel like a big soft blanket, safe and comforting of the most anesthetizing kind. Food, alcohol and e-books are easily delivered with a click from the keyboard or a cell phone call.

And eventually

You realize the hole is just a hole with no forward or backward movement. It starts to become smaller and the big soft blanket now has scratchy fuzz which scrapes on your dry skin, waking you from the anesthesia you thought you had. Delivery food gets expensively boring and the alcohol makes you fat, while the unread e-books take up space on your Kindle.

I prayed and prayed, cursed, than prayed some more for guidance and HE gave it.

I slowly climbed from the hole and dusted the food crumbs off my body, got on the internet and researched on working with animals. My compassion and dedication to those who have difficulty defending themselves shifted from people to animals. This is now my forward motion and it’s all too good.

My two mini schnauzers have taught me many lessons : unconditional love, patience, understanding pain when it’s not expressed, getting rid of vomit stains, breaking up dog fights, cutting black nails, cleaning out ears, picking up feces , this can go on but it stops right now. I am grateful to them for their influence on my decision to embark on this career transition.

Thank you Tobias and Pi-Patel who incidentally, refused to get in the hole.

pihr5 pihr8

Stuck in a Rut

English: Stuck in a deep rut on the outskirts ...
English: Stuck in a deep rut on the outskirts of Toowoomba, ca.1925. The Garage contains approximately 500 images of vehicles used in Queensland Australia, covering the period from1900. The images are linked to an index of the State Library of Queensland’s extensive collection of automotive repair manuals. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If I had control of my own universe, of course with the blessings and guidance of the ONE and only, I’d:

-Go back to school and become a Vet Tech.

-Quit my day job and stay at home writing in my office or in the neighbourhood Starbucks

-Drink endless amounts of coffee and mocha thingys while writing at Starbucks

-Hit the local library to write with water bottle in tow when the money runs low or I develop heart palpitations from the coffee (which ever comes first).

-Practice four to six hours on my spinet then relax in smug satisfaction knowing, come Sunday my teacher would not have one word of criticism.

-Sip Cabernet while munching on Weight Watchers cheese after lessons on Sunday in celebration of my teacher’s endless praise.

-Read the entire New York Times weekender and the advertisements and clip out the coupons.

-Become a coupon fanatic and turn fifty dollars of groceries into twenty from all the coupon savings and the two for one’rs.

-Attempt to braid my hair and paint my toenails hot pink and not necessarily in that order.

-Give up Facebook…well…

-Spend less time on Facebook.

-Experiment with cooking.

-Experiment with cooking using the twenty dollars’ worth of groceries from my savings.

-Attend all the freebee things in Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens and the Bronx. Not Staten Island, too far a drive.

-Daydream with no time limit, sleep all day and party like a rock star at night as long as I’m in bed by nine and up at five.

-Groom the boys the old fashion way.

-Learn to bandage the bites from the boys received during grooming.

This is what runs through my brain when I’m stuck in a rut.

For the love of Pi

Pi Patel is the other mini schnauzer in my life, eight years old and not blood related to Tobias but attached to him like Velcro, or like mustard on a baloney sandwich.

No, his name is not after pie, pizza pie, or 3.14159. His name stems from a character in one of my five favourite books. So far, two people identified the origin of the name because they read the book. Heck, he could have been named Richard but I plan to reserve that name for the kitten I hope to adopt in the future (bring on the Zrytec!).

As a rambunctious puppy, Pi Patel came into our home at the age of four months,  purchased from a pet store,  prior to my discovery of where pet shop puppies come from (the dreadful “puppy mills” ) and was quite sickly from kennel cough, which  wasn’t apparent until we arrived home.

My heart stretched at the frustrations of trying to cure my dog.

Pi Patel was suppose to be healthy, running around, frolicking like any other puppy. But, that kind of puppyhood belonged to another and not my Pi. We spent allot of time, especially in the morning, in each other’s arms.

Me, administering his antibiotics while He, struggled against receiving them.

This was our routine for a month and I believe the antibiotics later contributed to his development of food and seasonal allergies.

In time, the Kennel Cough did pass, so did the neutering, the teeth extractions, the torn dew nail,wearing the “cone of shame” on numerous occasions as well as the potted plant dirt eating incident in which he expel dirt laden stool with the help of a laxative for days on end. 

The honour and privilege of having Pi Patel in my life and home is not measurable. Of course, he’ s uba smart, knows tons of tricks and has the mental faculty to learn quickly.

Every dog has its tricks and Pi Patel is amongst them. His personality is unique and his alone. Pi’s assertiveness and aggression towards other dogs is in full force when we, as a pack, walk the streets in the ‘hood and his operatic cursing style is also his alone and cannot be replicated.

Good luck to the groomer who attempts the “schnauzer hawk” on their own Mini!

Kids or Dogs

There seems to be an onslaught of books on a topic rarely brought up in public conversations-the decision to remain childless. Walk on Seventh Avenue in my neighbourhood on any given day and you will hear endless conversations concerning children, daycare, and schools, play dates, eco friendly diapers etc. These conversations are not only coming from groups of women but also men and nannies. As I navigate through the strollers, herds of running toddlers and the occasional breast feeding new mom sitting outside the Häagan Dazs shop, I smile because I am so glad I do not have children. I have dogs.

 During my late teens, I decided not to have kids.

Carefully thought out and an easy choice to make, I knew back then I was too selfish to sacrifice one hundred percent of my needs and especially my wants in order to raise a child. My surroundings helped with the decision. My siblings and their kids allowed a front row view of the trials and tribulations of child rearing. Babysitting dilemmas, erratic feeding schedules, diapers and prams, and the ear piercing levels of screaming/crying  for food, to be held and changed, along with other monumental chores,  solidified my decision. Of course, there were moments of grandeur: the first word, the first walk, the first solid food, the first curse… that had no effect on my decision.

I saw and still see the negatives instead of positives.

There were teenage female classmates who mysteriously disappeared during the school year only to resurface during the summer with a baby and stroller in tow. There were also neighbours in the old ‘hood’ having more than one child to increase their welfare and housing benefits. In addition, during my teaching years, some of the parents of the emotionally disturbed students whom I taught, viewed teachers as overpaid babysitters, who freed up their time during the day so they could party up with drugs -horrible situations to place a child in! 

Having children is a serious decision with serious ramifications.

Children do not fix damaged people.  They will not cure loneliness or repair broken relationships. Nor will they take the place of a dress up doll. I live across the street from a playground where I see more nannies with babies than parents and yes in my ‘hood’ it is quite easy at times to distinguish nannies from parents. What is the point of having children if the parents are too busy working or taking care of their needs and especially their wants without the sacrifice? If a nanny takes care of a child on a full time basis, then the parents’ decision to have children was hastily decided. 

I chose dogs.

Dogs are wonderful companions who love unconditionally and flourish under a daily routine of food, exercise and love-not necessarily in that order just as long as you stick to the routine. Provide nutritional food, which can be bought or made, exercise them like crazy, because a tired dog is happy and less destructive and finally, lavish them with cuddles, belly rubs, grooming and praise. This accounts for sacrificing sixty percent of my needs and especially my wants although I must say it is more like ninety percent. 

Having a dog is a serious decision with serious ramifications.

The same ‘nanny’ concept holds true for dogs. If a dog owner needs to place their pooch for nine hours every day in doggie day care then maybe the decision to have a dog was hastily made.  Dogs require bonding with their owners not bonding with the attendant at the day care.

Dogs will not prepare couples for children.

I met a couple who adopted a dog for the sole purpose of preparing themselves for children. They figured caring for a dog would give them insight into the responsibilities of having a child. It was also a test run to see if their relationship was ready for the next level.  Unfortunately, they adopted a Jack Russell terrier and did not bother to learn about the breed. The dog’s hyperactivity resulting from lack of exercise strained their relationship. They moved from the neighbourhood and the dog’s fate and if they decided to have children after all remains unknown. 

As I got older, traveled, studied, relocated across country and back, the decision was right. Traveling with a child while studying abroad in the Caribbean would have been disastrous. I was involved with my studies, trekking through plantation sites and battling mosquitoes capable of transmitting Dengue fever.  A baby in the midst of this would not have made the trips possible or rather; I was not ready to give up the opportunities in order to raise a child. When the settling stage set in, less travel, sticking close to home and financial stability, the decision was made to share my life and enlarge my household. I chose dogs!

The enormous responsibility of child rearing was and still is not on my list of things to do.