Holy crap, I'm employed!

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE FRIGGIN JOB!

They called me yesterday and I saw the number pop up on my cell phone and was too nervous to answer. I waited till it stopped ringing and watched the little envelope appear - message waiting. Gulp. Then, I nervously dialed my voicemail, my stomach doing flip-flops the whole time.

"Hi Andria? It's E. at Blah Blah Blah Animal Hospital calling. I was hoping I'd catch you, because I'm calling to offer you the job..."

She said some more stuff after that, but I didn't hear anything else - because I was actually cheering out loud. Then I did a little victory dance in my apartment, and took Siris out for a little walk around the block to get my wits about me. And then I calmly phoned them back to, in my most professional and calm phone voice, accept their offer.

I started my new job today! The wheels are in motion. My new life awaits- so excited!

I did it! School's out!

I hung in there. I studied my ass off. I put myself so far out of my comfort zone I almost forgot where my comfort zone was to begin with. I lived the commuting-three-hours-a-day nightmare. I learned A LOT. I made friends with a bunch of twenty year olds. I even got straight As across the board in my last semester. And of course, I nearly ran myself ragged, burning the candle at both ends for two years straight - trying to work two part time jobs, excel at school, still have some semblance of a social life, not to mention give my own pets the time of day. But I did it! I'm a Veterinary Technician! Finally!

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not the braggy type, but I'm so fucking proud of myself, that I'm going to make an exception here. Yay me!

(Obviously, I've neglected the old blog. Boourns. Sorry about that. But did I mention I'm a Veterinary Technician?)

So right now I'm in full-on job search mode. I went to my first working interview this week, which was more than a little terrifying. A chat where I met the hiring manager and had to sell myself to the extreme. A tour of the clinic. Walking from room to room, trying to win over the various staff members I was introduced to one after the other. Being asked to demonstrate skills on various animals as I passed through. Take blood from this dog. Place an IV catheter in this one. With many eyes watching. No pressure. Not to mention some of these skills I've only had the opportunity to do a handful of times. Nope, not nerve racking at all. Heh. Well, I survived it, and I even think I did pretty well. It's a big hospital with a big team, and if I don't get the job, I won't be heartbroken, because just getting through that and not having a major anxiety attack or screwing up ridiculously is an accomplishment worth celebrating, for me. (But... if I do get it I think I might cheer out loud!)

Once I get full time work, I can finally quit my job at the other clinic, which I've been fantasizing about for a while now. I've still got the national Veterinary Technician registration exam to study for in July, so that I can get those lovely RVT initials after my name and the insurance, prestige, and $ that go along with it.

In a couple of months, I'm getting my own dog obedience classes to teach, finally, which I'm *so* excited about after years of being "just an assistant". I can think about moving back downtown once I'm more settled with work, and the prospect of a new apartment and a new neighbourhood make me super happy.

And, I'm going to join a baseball team! And I have time to see my friends again. And maybe start dating, even. I have my life back, and I'm so excited about what's next.

A little school nostalgia for you. Here's me (note the sexy coveralls!) with a cuddly little lamb born at the Seneca barn this spring:


Here's Moondrop and her new foal Cali - who is 3 days old in this picture!


And here's a short video of the Seneca flock... who are eager to eat some yummy grain which we were shaking around in bowls to entice them to run.

I'm actually missing the barn already. Weird.

On Being Watched...

The clinic that I work at is a small clinic. It's quiet a lot of the time, and we get these weird walk in, emergency type clients that we see once because their regular vet is closed and then never see again. We have a small group of eccentric regulars. But if it's quiet and there are no in-patients for me to tend to, I do busy work, like cleaning and restocking, making surgery packs, and hanging out with the boarding animals. A lot of the time the doctor will run off to do some errands and it will just be me in the clinic, listening to Q107.

And the doctor has cameras. Set up all over the clinic. Technically he's 24 hours so he SHOULD have a camera set up in the treatment area where there might be sick dogs and cats to watch. But he has taken it a step further. He's camera-fied the entire clinic so that he can spy on his employees. I'll let out a dog to run around in the clinic and get some exercise and then leash it up if it's harrassing the clinic cat. One day when I did that my cell phone instantly rang. It was the doctor. Telling me not to leash the dog up, to let him run free, all of two seconds after I'd leashed the dog up. He was watching me. Creepy.

...And I bet he does it a lot too. It's probably like Facebook to him. Let me just go and check in with what's happening at the clinic! I bet he compulsively checks it - just to see if anyone's doing anyone interesting, if anyone's ripping him off, if anyone's doing anything that they should be fired for. To maintain absolute control.

There is a no cell phone policy in the clinic ("This rule will be enforced!" reads a passive aggressive note in the staff area), so I have to send out my text messages from the washroom, where there's no camera.

So, knowing I'm being watched, I manipulate it. I show my best worker bee to the cameras - look how conscientous I am! Always so busy! Always finding ways to make us look better and be more efficient! Plus, I show the lens my goofy side, me playing with the boarding dogs, or cuddling with Princess, the one eyed, totally obese cat who lives there. Alone in an empty vet clinic, I dance around to classic rock, and sing along, while I'm sweeping and mopping. The doctor has never asked me about it, but I know he knows.

No, that still sucks. Cameras at work suck. A lot.

Senor Snuggles

My cat Senor Snuggles has this hilarious personality. He loooves him some attention, but it's gotta be on his terms. Or he might get a little frisky with his claws. He wants the love, but he selects the time. I am at his beck and call.

We're giving him a dental cleaning at school in a week or so, so he's having to do some travelling. He hates travelling. We went to the vet this week so he could be brought up to date on vaccines. The vet that is a five minute walk from my doorstep. He manages to take his characteristic I'm-in-my-carrier-fuck-you shit in that five minutes. When we brought him out to the exam table, he actually peed on the table. Yeah. I was mortified. Poor Snuggles. He's coming to school with me on Wednesday for his work up - blood collection, x-rays, etc. I'm kind of terrified for him, and for me.

He acts like he doesn't care that he lives here, that he loves me and Siris. And then whenever I pull him out of that environment, he can't handle it. But he's gonna have some nice clean teeth as a result, and I'll save money on potential extractions and complications later. So it's for his own good. And he's always super sucky when I get him back home.

(photo is courtesy of my dogwalker, Kim.)

It's official: I suck at New Years resolutions.

Four entries per month - ha! So instead, I managed one, and barely. Somehow I thought this might happen. Better luck in February. Don’t people usually start out strong and then peter out? Not this girl! Why start out strong, even? Heh.

In my defense, I tried. I did write a long and boring entry about girl-drama in the Vet Tech program at Seneca. It was an intricate tale involving me being accused of being a microscope thief because I sat at a different lab station on the first day of fourth semester than I had all third semester, in one of my classes. (Yes, really! What nerve, I know!) It detailed the aftermath of this grave offense. But I ended up deleting this post because a) in retrospect, it just wasn’t very interesting and b) the earthquake in Haiti happened shortly after the post went up – which made it seem all the more stupid and irrelevant. When bad things happen in the world, I have a hard time writing about myself. And I have a hard time when bad things happen in the world, period. My heart feels heavy and I am glued to news programs about it, and my eyes well up when looking at photos in the Metro on public transit, and I feel helpless and insignificant when I imagine devastation on such a grand scale as what happened there. Poor Haiti. I still can’t stop thinking about it.

In my little life, things are marching forward. I started my once a week co-op at a downtown animal hospital, which is one less day a week that I have to trek out to King City. I’m on placement once a week until the end of April, and it’s a busy four-veterinarian practice so I’m learning lots. At school, it’s the semester-of-truth, where everything we’ve learned so far all comes together and we’re actually in real surgeries. It’s exciting, and interesting, and intimidating as hell. Last week, I was the Anesthetist for a cat neuter surgery. I placed my first catheter, hooked up the anesthetic circuit, delivered the IV fluids, and did all the monitoring. All this while commanding my hands not to shake and remembering to breathe. At some point in the next few months, I’m going to get to actually do the neuter surgery (aka the cutting off of the cat’s balls) myself! The day before my anesthetist debut, another group at school lost a cat on the table during their scheduled surgery due to embolism. The stakes are high. It’s scary stuff. This is what I signed up for though. I know what I’m doing, I’m just not confident yet. And that comes with practice. Animals know when you’re not confident though, so I’m gonna have to try to fake it til I make it, for now.

What else in January? I went on my first date in forever, and in a shocking-Andria-twist, it involved no alcohol. Of course, I have no business going on dates period, because I’m too damned busy to fit in a relationship of any kind, but this was before school started, so I did it anyway. Meh. He was intelligent at least, but our chemistry was better over e-mail and text messages. We lamely tried to get it together for a second date, but by then school had started, my schedule had become insane, and I don't think his ego could handle "my only window this week is here". I think we’re both glad. I am, anyway. Something was not right, no use trying to force it. And I’m going back to bar dates, or dinner and wine dates, for a little while -they’re more fun. If I can ever find anyone worth having a drink with. When you have all the time in the world, you don’t have to be so picky. When your life is as crazy as mine is, slotting in dates eats up time I could be spending with my friends. Who I already hardly ever see because I’m so busy with school and work. So I need to be picky, or so I tell myself. Otherwise, bad dates = wasted friend time.

Also in January – lots of friend counseling through love problems, and the head cold from hell! Oh, and Siris found love with a chubby young English Bulldog named Angus who just moved into our building! I have honestly never seen her so jazzed about another dog. She does her wiggly dance for him every time she sees him, and he thinks she’s pretty grand too.

Last, it’s looking like all the colleges in Ontario are going to go on strike sometime really soon. That’s 24 colleges in Ontario, including mine. Which is going to free up a lot more Andria-time (and cost me a lot more money, and probably extend my semester at least a month.) I’m trying not to think about it though, because I’ve got zero control over the outcome, and who knows, there’s still a chance a deal could be struck at the last moment.

But if my school’s on strike and I still don’t hit my four posts a month goal, then man, I really suck.

Sayonara 2009

Well, I'll admit that I didn't love 2009. It was kind of a transition year. A year of ironing out a lot of my own kinks and a year of supporting a lot of friends as they ironed out theirs. A year of learning, in many ways. In life, at school. A year of getting wiser and more self-aware.

What I did this year:

• I said goodbye to a relationship that wasn't working.
• I moved, again.
• I started working at a vet clinic; I assisted in my first surgery and my first euthanasia, and I didn't faint or bawl my eyes out (in front of anyone.)
  
• I quit smoking (for good, this time.)
• I strengthened friendships with a few key special people.
• I volunteered more time than I ever have in a year.

What I didn't do this year:

• Get away anywhere. I mean, I didn't go anywhere! Not even a cottage. I miss travelling. I miss that feeling of seeing something new and amazing for the first time.
  
• Spend enough time with people I care about. School has sort of monopolized my life, and I've definitely been missing the face time with my friends. And while there have been lots of heart to hearts over the phone, and way more lengthy emails to friends than in previous years, it isn't the same. I miss the connection that comes from a face to face interaction with someone who I get and who gets me.

So I guess it's time for some goals for 2010. Resolutions if you will. Things I want to accomplish in the coming year, and maybe if I write them down they will be more real and then next year I can come back to this list and say "check!...check!...check!" and then create some more goals. Here's hoping.

Stuff I want in 2010:

• To travel somewhere I haven't been before. Hopefully out of the country, if possible.
• To meet my partner in crime. Uh, life, that is. Meet someone who makes me happy, who challenges me, who keeps me honest, who encourages and supports. And who lets me do that for him. And no settling! And definitely no letting anyone treat me poorly.
  
• To write more. Four blog entries per month, minimum. Gulp. It's here in writing, so now it has to happen.
  
• To unload some relationships that cause me more stress than happiness - and to put more effort into those that truly make me happy. And to put me first a lot more than I have in the past.
• To pass the RVT registration exam in June, and find a clinic where I'll be happy and keep learning.
• To start some sort of side business to help supplement the old bank account - crafting, dog training, dog walking, writing, whatever that may be.
• To end 2010 living back downtown somewhere within walking distance to all the stuff I love, including my job.
  

Too much? Probably. But it's a good list, and I've always been the ambitious type. If I get halfway there I'll be in good shape. I've got a good feeling about 2010. A shift is coming.

Happy New Year, blogosphere!

The dog days of Christmas

Seasons greetings, kids! Exams are behind me and I've been enjoying some well deserved down-time. (I kicked some serious ass in terms of marks at school, by the way. And I don't even have to repeat that lab exam, meaning, I DO know what I'm doing in terms of reading crazy blood and urine slides.) I've had time to clean my apartment. I've baked more batches of chocolate chip shortbread than I ever thought possible. I visited my parents at their swanky new house. I've been going out to see live music. I've been eating and drinking with friends. (All this stuff I never had time for before!) And I've also turned my teeny apartment in a doggie day care, kind of. Okay, well, not really, but I've been entertaining canine houseguests for the last couple of weeks.

It started with doing a favour for a friend of mine going out of a town for the weekend. I offered to watch her 9 month old pup, Charlie the Havanese. So Charlie and Siris wrestled all weekend, and Siris was very patient with him, and Senor Snuggles taught him all about how cats are always in charge. But he came with pee pads. Ugh. I had assumed that a 9 month old would be housetrained by now, but I had forgotten that in our condominium culture, some people consider pee-pad training to equivalent to housetraining. Charlie's people are just happy he goes on the pads, and not their carpet. Not for me, but yeah. Anyway, when it was time for Charlie to go back home, along came Rafi the Chihuahua.

Rafi is one of Ola's foster dogs, and Ola's home/dog boarding business was packed with holiday visitors (I believe 17 dogs was her total IN HER HOUSE) - so in order for Ola to have one less dog to deal with, Rafi came to stay with us. While I am not a fan of Chihuahuas in general, I'm definitely a fan of this one. Rafi was an aggressive case but has been reformed by months of living at Ola's. He's quite possibly the snuggliest dog I've ever met, even going so far as to sleep under the covers with me, curled up beside me. He's a chill little guy, not yappy for a Chihuahua, and much more Siris's speed, thankfully. He accompanied us to Christmas at my parents, much to their chagrin and won over my skeptical brothers. I'll be sad to give him back.

I'm trading him in for a Bichon. Yep, one of Ola's regular clients called her last minute and she was full, so I'm getting Snowy this afternoon, till early in the new year. He's apparently a delight, very easy and well behaved. Looking forward to meeting him. So, never a dull moment at my place this holiday season. To clarify, I am getting paid for these dog boarding gigs. When you already have to walk one dog three times a day, adding another ain't a big deal. It's been an enjoyable and cuddly way to make a few extra bucks while I'm off school.

In other dog related holiday-ness, Siris loved the velvety tree skirt at my parents' place so much that she thought she'd circle and circle and circle and eventually make it her bed. Except that in doing so, she nearly knocked down the whole tree, causing my mom to screech and scream, my dad to panic because of my mom's screeching and screaming, and leaving my brother and I to try to actually do something about the situation. Straight out of the Marley and Me outtakes! I caught the tree mid-fall and held it upright again. I think maybe two ornaments fell off. The non breakable kind, so we just put them right back up. Keith tightened the tree back into the cheap little tree stand it was in. The crisis was averted. But seeing the dogs freak out at my mom's total frenzy, I may have snapped at her to please calm down. She may have screamed at me even louder that she was NOT GOING TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Oh yes. Fun times on Christmas Eve. Poor Siris was in the doghouse with my mother after that. And me too, by extension.

But, we all ate good food, and drank good wine. I got to see my brothers. My parents' swanky new house is intact, and there is no permanent dog-related damage. I got some good gifts and I got to give some good gifts. So generally, another Christmas success. It wouldn't be Christmas (or even just a trip home) if Siris didn't piss off my mother in some capacity.

Stress, stuff that makes it better, and my crazy life continued...

This blog has been quiet, because I have been "laser focused" (ha, ha, that's a gem from my old days in the corporate world) on school. When I'm not at school, I'm either going there or coming back from there, or sitting in my apartment making flashcards and memorizing something super nerdy and science-y. Like how long it takes for Propofol to kick in, and how it's administered, and whether or not you can top it off. (30-60 seconds, IV via catheter, and yes.. yes you can.) Or how you can tell the difference between a reactive lymphocyte and a prorubricyte, should you be looking through a microscope at a blood smear which includes both. Or what antibiotics are unsuitable to give to rabbits. And other fun stuff.

So, basically, my program has stolen my life, and I've become a total recluse. Two weeks ago, I was out the door at 6 am to be at school bright and early to do exams on all of our group animals and report the results to the vets in rounds. The weekend after that, I was at school for twelve hours each day in the kennels and in the barns, taking care of all our school animals. Last week, I was out the door at 5 am to be at school to supervise the first year students as they did their kennel and barn duties. And, in between, I was studying and reviewing while drinking umpteen cups of coffee and trying to get my anxiety in check, because last week I also sat four practical evaluations.

Random stuff that I had to do that will determine my promotability in the program:

• Put together an anesthetic circuit based on a random scenario given to me, and answer a ton of questions about drugs, duration of action, planes of anesthesia, safety, and patient monitoring in a nerve-racking 15 minute oral exam.
• Pull a team and a scenario out of a hat and work together to on a particular radiograph, position the patient correctly, manually develop correctly, and answer a series of questions about small animal x-ray studies and anatomy.
• Read a bunch of urine and blood slides within a certain margin of accuracy and a certain timeframe, identifying a bunch of hard to identify cells for our intimidating as hell Clinical Pathology professor who doesn't tell you if you got them right or not, and mostly just says "Hmmmm. ok..." and scribbles stuff down in her notes, rattling your confidence further.
• Do a subcutaneous injection on a guinea pig, give an oral dose to a hamster, and hold a rat in the iron grip medical restraint for an intra-peritoneal injection. These were all randomly pulled out of a hat too. I could have picked a mouse or a rabbit, and various other weird lab animal science skills.

I was mostly too exhausted to be as nervous and anxiety-ridden as I usually would have in these scenarios. And most went well, except for the blood and urine slide reading, which I strongly suspect I fucked up, and will be spending some extra time with the teacher on over the holidays. Which, hopefully they let me. I've been kicking ass in the theory portion of her class and usually do well when I'm not panicking in a timed laboratory examination, so here's hoping that counts for special consideration.

And, I am really proud of myself, no matter what the results. Because I am doing it. I am getting it done. I am working hard, and I am out of my comfort zone, and I am four months away from finishing. And it's probably the toughest thing I've ever done in my life, trying to juggle school, and studying, and two jobs, and my own pets, and pretty much doing everything independently since I live alone and don't have much help.

I changed my Facebook status during this week to indicate something about me trying to get through my week of practical evaluation hell, and got a lovely email as a result from Michael, who is one of the boys at the street kids orphanage in Kampala where I volunteered last year, asking me how my practicals were going and sending me the best. Which, honestly, made my day. My month, really. And more important made me step outside my little drama and think about how big the world is, but also how small, and how we are all connected. Facebook is good for that, I guess. Anyway, it made me stress a lot less.

The practicals are done, there's no changing the results, so next is focusing on written exams, which I think I can nail...and looking forward to almost three whole weeks off where I can reconnect with myself, my own pets, my friends, my family, and my old life.

In other news:

• My parents bought a new house and are moving December 15th. They've lived at their current house since I was seven years old and have talked about moving for the past twenty years. They found their dream home about a month ago, pulled the trigger and are now in panic mode as they have to pack up and unpack in record time. Christmas will be at the new house this year. Crazy.
• The Toronto Humane Society finally got busted. Tim Trow, the crazy president, and some senior management, including the head vet are charged with animal cruelty. The OSPCA is investigating. The media coverage has been totally sensational, and noone knows what the outcome is going to be.
• Sue, my oldest friend and the one who knows me better than almost anyone, is pregnant and expecting in June! I'm so happy for her that I actually squealed, and then almost cried when she told me. I'll be writing my RVT licensing exam and she's going to be delivering a baby boy or girl into the world - so much to look forward to in June 2010!

And I think that's all I have time to care about for the next little while... Expect some more updates now that I have some more time.

My crazy life

The long absence in blogging has been due to me being insanely busy once again. I spent most of August working 65 hours a week - when it rains it pours! I had a month long full time vet clinic gig, and am still there working Saturdays. Back to just one day a week at doggie school. And I'm a bridesmaid in a wedding that has been eating up what little free time I have. School's started again, and that means eaaaarly mornings, long commutes, lots of hitting the books, and learning at warp speed. I'm a little overwhelmed, but I will remember try to remember that yes, I have a blog, and yes, writing is fun and cathartic and not actually *that* much work.

Having said all that, because I'm exhausted today - I'm copping out with just a few pictures that describe my life as of late. These are cell phone shots, so excuse the bad quality!

Sunrise at Finch Station. I won't divulge just how early this was taken.

Out the bus window: green acres and nothingness in King City, Ontario.

Baby calves! They are so cute it's unbelievable, and they follow us around like dogs and suck on our coveralls, and we get to bottle feed them. Fun!

My group's cat Sterling, who is available for adoption and wants to go to her new home straight from school in mid-October. Spread the word. She is a sweetheart, a purr machine, and very kitten-esque in personality. Make her yours!

More to come when I'm better rested, when the wedding is over, and hopefully before reading break.

Leo

Working at a dog school is the best job ever. It combines pretty much everything I love – training dogs and figuring out new ways to handle particular dogs and particular dog related problems, and human psychology: fine tuning my people skills, learning how to get through to different personalities in the most effective way. The hardest part usually isn’t the dog stuff.

Leo and his owner are my latest challenge. Leo is listed as a Bernese Mountain Dog mix, but looks like a tri-coloured retriever. He’s nine months old, hyperactive as all hell, and newly adopted by White Haired Lady, a 60 something woman with her own set of issues. Leo is a high energy guy with extremely bad manners. He exists in a constant state of overexcitement, lunging out at dogs, and bodyslamming into people. He’s good natured, but his approach to everything is throwing himself at it. He’s a big dog, and still growing. He pants, he whines, he barks, and he pretty much never relaxes.

White Haired Lady is a tough nut to crack. On her first night in class, I smelled booze on her breath. She comes solo every week – no kids or husband in tow to watch and encourage her. Maybe they exist or maybe they don’t, but they’re not there supporting her at doggie school, and I get the feeling it’s just her and Leo – if not physically, than emotionally for sure. It’s like this dog is all she has.

She clearly loves her dog, petting him constantly, telling him what a good boy he is. Anyone who knows anything about dog training, knows that petting and praising shouldn’t happen when a dog is acting up. This basically reinforces the bad behavior. The owner thinks that they’re soothing and comforting the dog, helping to calm him down, like a person would a baby or a small child. But dogs are not children. Think “I love it when you whine, Leo, keep it up!” Think “Gooood boy! That’s just greaaat that you lunged out at that little puppy – what a good boy you are!”

It also gets the dog hooked on constant affection. Leo demands it, and he and old White Hair are in a horrible loop – he acts up, she pets him and loves on him. He can’t go a few minutes without attention from White Hair. He’ll lean on her, he’ll break commands, throwing his body at the end of the leash, physically moving her and forcing her to reposition him, and then she’s praising him and giving him some love. He won’t sit still unless he’s being reassured and has her hands all over him. He’s got her wrapped around his little finger.

And of course, Leo’s lady is guilty of another dog training no-no: repeating commands. “Leo, Sit!....Leo! Sit!...SIT!....SIT!!... LEO, SIT!!!!” And as she gets more and more exasperated, Leo is having the most fun of his life, squirming around, enjoying the attention and energy he can suck out of her.

The class Leo is in is mostly full of puppies, and most of them happen to be small dogs. Leo is the largest, the most boisterous, and by far the worst behaved. On their first day, it took about thirty seconds for me to notice what was going on. Leo needed a different kind of leadership. Time to talk to old White Hair.

I calmly suggested to her she might try withholding the caresses and soothing words when her dog is going apeshit. I explained that this just conveys to the dog that she likes that kind of behavior out of him. She listened intently, nodded, and seemed to get it. “Oh really? That’s interesting. That makes sense. Ahhhhhh…. Hmmmm.” I almost saw the lightbulb going off above her head. And then, not two minutes later, she couldn’t help herself – hands all over him again. I’d gently remind her, and she’d subsequently ignore me. It got to where Leo’s thrashing and whining and lunging was completely disruptive to the other dogs in the class. You could see the irritation on the faces of the other dog owners, who were doing their best, but with a fifty pound dog coming flying into the face of their pups every couple of minutes, it was not ideal.

This is when I suggested White Hair might give a Halti a try. This is a head collar that generally gives the owner more control over the dog. I could see she was getting self conscious about all the attention I was forced to give to her and Leo compared to the other dogs in the class. She snapped at me and waved me off. “I’ve tried that. I can’t even get it on him. He’s a good dog. He’s fine everywhere but here. He really is! He’s just overstimulated.” (Uh, duh. Clearly. But she still needs to control her dog.)

On their second day, she showed up ten minutes late for the class, and waited outside the door, Leo thrashing wildly, making high pitched moaning noises as she struggled to manage him. I met her outside, and she was already at her wits end.

“I just don’t think this is the place for us. He’s unmanageable! It’s too stressful! He’s so unhappy here.”

Leo was anything but unhappy in class. He loved it – it was a non stop party for him. Dogs to play with! People to pet him! But White Hair was unhappy – she was embarrassed and frustrated, and she was pretty much ready to turn around and walk away. I looked at poor Leo. He isn’t a bad dog, but old White Hair was basically making him more neurotic by the minute. Poor guy.

Mustering up all my patience and "calm-assertive energy", I mentioned again about the Halti. I told her I knew how she felt, and I did. Siris was a hundred times worse than Leo the first day I set foot in an obedience class. “He’s the worst one in the class – none of the other dogs behave like him”, she said, daring me to disagree with her. I didn’t. “You’re right – he is the most energetic, and the most out of control – but if this is his problem area, that’s why you’re here. This is what he needs.” She was skeptical so I kept talking. I believe in him, I believe in you, blah blah blah. I had to pretty much give the lady a motivational speech before she’d step into the room. She was still fighting me, but she joined the class, begrudgingly.

During the Sit-Stay, the goal is to get about 30 seconds of time with the dog in position. White Hair settled for about five seconds out of Leo before she ended the exercise, ignoring the teacher’s instructions, and launched into the most exuberant praise ever. The rest of the room maintained their Sit Stays, and Dorothy politely reminded her that we needed to achieve some time and that we weren’t finished. “No, we were finished,” said the lady, clueless. “He already did it, he did a good job.” Some people. She went about doing every command her way, with little to no regard to the instruction, and ignoring our tips and advice wherever possible.

Finally, I was able to convince her to let me try Leo on a Halti. I tried a new trick of mine, asking if she “would be open to" me trying out Leo with the new collar. When you ask someone if they’d be open to something, it’s hard for them to say no without looking like a closed minded, argumentative idiot. If the Halti didn’t work for him, I would drop it, I promised. And to be honest I was a bit unsure as to if it would work, given her account of her past attempts, but hey, it’s not like I had anything to lose.

I used food to introduce Leo to it, slowly, and I was calm but firm. He didn’t fight me at all, as I put it on him – if anything he relaxed. When we started walking, he did try the usual things dogs do when being introduced to a Halti – the ragdoll routine, the lying down, rolling around and trying to paw it off his face, the bucking around like a bronco. I just encouraged and kept walking, and Leo transformed before our eyes. He stopped his whining and the crazed and anxious look vanished from his eyes. When I was walking him, he was paying attention to me; his tail was wagging, and he was alert. He was under new management, and if he could talk, he probably would have said “thank you.”

White Hair, seeing the results, couldn’t argue. She finally softened. I let her try walking him with the Halti, and coached her through it, giving her more encouragement than I thought any human would ever need. She started to get it – she still jerked too much, and stopped when the dog stopped, but Leo was manageable, and she was learning. She told me stories about adopting Leo and she asked me about my own dog. We laughed together. For the rest of the class, Leo did great, and White Hair’s confidence increased. She would not be leaving the class after all. I felt like a million bucks. Moments like these are why I love this job so much.

The lady is absolutely still the most high maintenance and infuriating client I’ve had to deal with in a long time, and she’ll probably continue to ignore advice and do things on her own terms in the coming weeks. But we did right by her dog, and here’s hoping life gets easier for the two of them, for Leo’s sake.

You’re a smart boy, Leo. Be patient with that human of yours - she’ll get it eventually.

Temp Life

It’s been challenging finding summer work this year. The government funds programs that incent workplaces to hire students during the summer season – but forces these companies to demand that their student employees are between fifteen and twenty nine years old. So basically, I’m too old to qualify for the majority of student jobs. (What? Really? But I’m still a student! Doesn’t that count for anything?)

Having spent the majority of my adult life in the Corporate World, I figured that was my best bet in terms of hourly wage. Now, if the economy were better, I could have lined up a project management contract and reeeeally made some good cash, but most companies just aren’t investing in projects right about now. So I have settled for the next best thing, providing administrative support on a temporary basis. It’s easy, it’s low stress, and it beats the hell out of Starbucks. Is it totally beneath me, intellectually? Sure. But who cares?

It’s funny how people treat you when you’re the receptionist, or the mail room clerk. They assume you’re a total idiot. And it’s even weirder when they know nothing about you. Like for example, nobody at my current assignment knows that I’ve been trained in Six Sigma and can run a hell of a tight project. Or that I’ve built a department from the ground up, including the key performance metrics...and built the reporting capabilities to extract the key performance metrics. Or that I’ve delivered training to hundreds. Or that I’ve managed and coached countless employees into promotions. But whatever.

“Do you know how to book a meeting room in Outlook?" the sales representatives ask me condescendingly, "Did Janice show you how to do that?”

They hesitate before asking me; they're uncertain, almost expecting me to have no clue. And then, their elation when they find out that I can do it for them! Wow…as if it’s that difficult. They’re basically expecting me to be a total moron. A bit insulting, for sure, but I’m not divulging anything. As a temp, you can please people just by being of average intelligence, their standards are so low.

I’ve been so bored on the majority of my assignments, that I go above and beyond on every single task and essentially blow people away with my responsiveness. I do it because it gives me something to do. I provide tracking numbers on every package sent out. I stock every photocopier in the office full of paper. I tidy all the office supplies. Just to give me something to do. I wonder how people actually do these jobs full time. I’d go crazy.

On a temporary basis, though, it’s fun. It’s like I’m on my own reality TV show. I go in for a week, meet the people, watch how they do things, do the tasks I’m hired to do, and then I’m gone. I judge their processes, the ones I’m involved in, and think of ways I would make them better. I notice how much money they waste, how much time things take, how fulfilled the employees are. That’s the Six Sigma in me, I guess.

But nobody suspects I’m noticing these things. Or that I even have the capacity to understand them and what they mean to The Big Picture. After all, I am just a temp.

Love your library!

Recently I've rediscovered the library. I'm not used to having time to read for pleasure: I spent most of last year pretty much reading textbooks and lab manuals exclusively...There was no time for biographies and novels. This summer, I've been loving reading, though. The Toronto library system is decent - I can order up whatever I want on the internet, wait for it to come in, and pick it up at my local branch when it's ready. I'm catching up, slowly.

Currently I'm waiting for some great stuff:

"The Compassionate Carnivore: Or, How to Keep Animals Happy, Save Old MacDonald's Farm, Reduce Your Hoofprint, and Still Eat Meat" by Catherine Friend. No, I'm not thinking about going back to meat. But I am curious to read this, because I have loads of meat eating friends that do care about the earth and animals, and I suspect this might be a good book to recommend to people who want to make good choices but aren't ready or willing to part with meat in their diet.

"Five Years of My Life: An Innocent Man in Guantanamo" by Murat Kurnaz. Over a year ago, I saw Murat being interviewed on 60 Minutes. His story is compelling. At age 19, on a visit to Pakistan, he was taken into custody, sold to US forces, and held without proper charge in Guantanamo where he endured nearly five years of torture and suffering. After some massive campaigning by friends, family, and thousands of Amnesty International supporters, Murat was finally released and wrote this book.

"Summer of My Amazing Luck" by Miriam Toews. I just finished a book by her, called "A Complicated Kindness" that I just loved. I'm hooked on her writing, her characters, everything. If this novel is even close to as good as that one, I'm in for a treat.

"Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog" by Ted Kerasote. I gave this book to Ola for her 30th birthday and have been wanting to read it ever since. Somewhere, though I can't remember where, it was described as the best story about a dog there ever was. That's enough for me. I'm sure I'll cry buckets of tears when the dog eventually dies at the end, but that's to be expected, and I'm a sucker for dog stories.

"Redemption: The Myth of Pet Overpopulation and the No Kill Revolution in America" by Nathan Winograd. The story of animal sheltering in the United States, a history of sorts. I've been reading the author's blog a lot lately and like his take on animal issues.

"The Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships: Decoding Social Mysteries Through the Unique Perspective of Autism" by Temple Grandin & Sean Barron. Temple Grandin rules. She's autistic, a Ph.D. in Animal Science, and just plain brilliant. I *loved* her book, Animals In Translation - she's just got such a different way of looking at the world - her perspective about whatever she's tackling seems totally different, but the thing is, it always makes sense - it's just not the way I naturally, initially think about things. Which I find fascinating. A new world. Really exciting. I have only ever read her stuff about animals before - am really looking forward to her take on human social relationships.

I've also ordered up a DVD about Dr. Grandin called "The Woman Who Thinks Like A Cow" , which is about her life in general, and her work improving conditions in the livestock industry. I recently cancelled my cable, so am always looking for free, interesting, educational, stuff to watch. I miss the National Geographic Channel, and The Documentary Channel. (Okay, and HBO.)

Ohhh, just making this list is making me super anxious to sink my teeth into all this good stuff. Hooray for the library - I'll never stay away this long again!

Why love one but eat the other?

Chooseveg.ca has started a really cool campaign increasing awareness about the conditions farm animals are raised in and the target audience is subway riders in Toronto. Which is great, because whether you want to or not, if you're riding the subway, you're looking at the ads. Kind of controversial, but hopefully eye-opening for a lot of people who choose not to think about how what was once a cute little piglet ends up on their dinner plate.

The campaign is aimed at connecting our companion animals like dogs and cats to farm animals in terms of their similarities, and then exposes the suffering of farm animals in factory farms. Three different ads are featured, sharing information about pigs, cows, and chickens. I must admit I was majorly proud to be a vegetarian as I sat facing the pig themed ad yesterday on my ride downtown. You can view each of the ads on Chooseveg.ca website, as well as watch video footage, read articles, get great veggie recipes, and learn about the benefits of a vegetarian lifestyle.

Why I love Kensington Market

I was poking around on youtube and found this little homemade clip shot outside Graffitis that shows Baldwin Street busy with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd, John Borra Band playing live at the bar (the song is "Irene") and a lady and a kid dancing their hearts out to it. The quality is crap, but the sentiment: magic.

Nicotine Dreams

I don't think I blogged about my journey into non-smokerdom, but last year, shortly before my trip to Uganda, I set about on a quest to free myself from a nasty addiction. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. All my close friends smoked. I was living with a smoker, so our apartment smelled like smoke pretty much all the time. I fought against years of engrained smoking habits. The walking-to-the-bus-smoke. The with-a-glass-of-wine-smoke. The patio-smoke. The I'm-bored-smoke. And the I'm-stressed-smoke. And the I'm-angry-smoke. And all the rest of them. I did it though-- the patch helped me with the physical cravings while I retrained myself of all my psychological habits. And I was smoke-free for almost a year. Despite it being one of the most challenging years ever - despite the stress of school and the worst break up ever, and the move from hell, I maintained my status as a non-smoker. Until Siris went missing that day, and then, I'm ashamed to admit it, but here it is: I fell off the wagon.

For the months of May and June, I got back together with my old pal cigarettes. How quickly I fell into old habits. Awful. I hated my clothes smelling like cigarettes. I hated needing one with my morning coffee, and I definitely hated the money I was wasting on my dirty little habit. Most of all though, I hated the feeling that I had caved, I had failed, I was weak. Boooourns.

So, I'm on the patch again. Day five of my new life as a non smoker. I like the patch because you simply can't smoke when you're on it. You could have a stroke. That's incentive enough for me. I can't stop thinking about cigarettes, but I know that slowly that will go away. By the time school starts again I should have weaned myself off the patch and be fully rehabilitated.

But man, the dreams! I had forgotten about the vivid dreams you get when you've got a nicotine patch slapped on.

Two days ago, I dreamed I was at a wedding - either the bride or the groom was related to me, which I knew in the dream, even though I couldn't see either of them, so I don't actually know whose wedding it was. Dr. Phil was there, with his wife. (I know - random, right? Dr. Phil is haunting my dreams? Really?) They were related to the either the bride or the groom too, but not on my side. Dr. Phil was up there on stage, making eyes at his stupid wife and talking about how this was going to be "A Changing Day" for the couple. He kept blabbing on and on, while I kept trying to see who was actually getting married. Whoever they were, Dr. Phil was totally hijacking their wedding.

Yesterday I dreamed about a toddler girl who was getting her eyebrows threaded. Seriously, she was a two year old, cute as a button, getting her eyebrows threaded by some little old chinese lady in a basement somewhere. Weeeeird.

I almost never remember my dreams, and this week, they've been waking me up in the middle of the night. I hope once I'm down to a lower dosage patch I can go back to my regular dreamless, deep slumber nights.

Commie Bathroom Graffiti

The Communist's Daughter boasts some of the best bathroom graffiti ever. One day, after a few too many, I went a little camera happy with my cell phone, documenting. The forest background in one of the stalls is too awesome for words, and note the "You look hott!" written so when you check yourself in the mirror, you feel good about yourself.

"Fear is the lock, and laughter is the key to your heart....hehehe Don't worry - Keep Laughing"
"...OR TRY COMEDY."

"Please, somebody carve this bit of drywall out and put it in their scrapbook. It is obviously going to be an insanely valuable autograph when the genius visionary philosopher king who wrote it is inevitably world renowned. -- Sarcasm: for those times when you are not happy enough to be funny."

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink because when they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they will feel ALL DAY."

And the response: "every night you get fucked up you borrow joy from the next day. At least the non fucked-uppers break even. And that's all." (note the big "DOUCHE" with arrow pointing to this one.)

Siris and Jabba suck at posing

Brindle dogs unite! Jabba is my pal Ola's 12 year old french bulldog.

This was taken at Woofstock '09 courtesy of my friend Heather Reilly.

Rally to reform the Toronto Humane Society!

It rained the day of the protest. Which sucked. But still, two hundred people showed up. We stood under umbrellas in the rain, listening to speakers, holding signs, chanting "Tim Trow Must Go!" It was very peaceful. We collected tons of blankets, towels, toys, food, kitten formula, and other donations for the animals inside the shelter.

Ran into a friend that used to work at the Toronto Humane Society and wow, was it ever a reunion of ex-shelter workers and volunteers. When the chanting began, one of the ex-employees said to him "I'm scared to say anything. I don't want to get sued." She hadn't worked there in years but had signed something on her departure and wasn't sure when it "expired" and she was legally able to participate in something like this. She said there were current shelter workers there who were basically incognito. Hoodies up, sunglasses on, wanting to support the protesters, wanting to rally for change, but scared out of their mind for their jobs.

All this just reaffirmed that there is something definitely wrong at the Toronto Humane Society. A lot wrong.

Some good reading on the subject:

Globe and Mail article: Inside The Raid on the Toronto Humane Society
Toronto Star article: THS Chief Admits "I'm no saint"
Toronto Humane Society Protest Blog
Association for the Reform of the Toronto Humane Society Website

Perspective

Today, I went to visit Sue's husband in the hospital. On Wednesday, he had a below the knee amputation after stage three cancer was diagnosed in his right foot. He's known the diagnosis for almost six months now, and decided pretty quickly amputation was the way to go. The type of cancer, synovial sarcoma, is rare and the prognosis with chemo and radiation in his case wasn't very good. Amputation was the best case scenario to squash it and prevent any spreading. He'd been on a waiting list for surgery, on standby, and got about a week's notice that it was time. It's been a rollercoaster for him and for Sue, these past few months.

When I walked into his hospital room at Mt. Sinai, he was alert, smiling, chatting away, and surrounded by friends and family. He was up on his crutches, doing things for himself, studying the exercises he's gotta do, lining up his rehab and physio options, and ready to take on the world. Whatta guy. I can't see him sitting around, wallowing, watching the world go by. Not him.

Watching him, I felt strangely proud. I was inspired by his positivity and motivation. And especially by the outpouring of support around him. I was reminded of what really matters in this life, of all the simple stuff we take for granted everyday.

Xrays and tests confirmed no spreading of the cancer - which he'll have to monitor regularly for the next few years, but things look very good for him. And once he gets fit for prosthesis, through his therapy, and adjusted, I know that he'll be unstoppable. What a journey that awaits him. Go Rahim!

Hooray for Investigative Journalism!

Someone finally wrote it! And published it! The piece (or rather series of pieces) that expose the Toronto Humane Society for what it is. Yessss, Kate Hammer! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Basically the gist of it is this: The Toronto Humane Society is so busy keeping their euthanasia numbers low, that they're allowing animals to die, sick in their cages, when they could be humanely euthanised. Then, these cases don't count in their euthanasia numbers. Which they put on pretty charts and contrast against the City of Toronto Animal Control's euthanasia numbers, making them look like angels, and garnering more and more public donations. The Toronto Humane Society's management process appears to be such that shelter managers and workers get ultimate say on euthanasia, medical procedures, and care - not the veterinarians.

Further to this, employees aren't treated well, and shelter worker turnover is attrocious. Anyone who speaks out against management, questions policies... is fired. Even volunteers are asked not to come back. I've known this for a while. I've known people who volunteered there, worked there. I once volunteered there myself as a dog walker. I've joined Facebook groups calling for the resignation of the volunteer President, Tim Trow. I've read blogs, listened to past employee rants, and have known all too well what goes on there for quite some time. But how to stop it?

Kate Hammer, journalist for the Globe and Mail, has done an amazing thing here! And she and the Globe are no doubt being sued by the Toronto Humane Society for publishing the article. But good for her! The truth needed to come out. People are getting angry. The public backlash is about to begin, and Part Two and Part Three of the story have yet to be released.

Anxiously awaiting what comes next...