Today was my last day of picking up roadkill.
I was half hoping for some grossly disgusting carcass to generate an interesting final story... but no luck. Today was a busy day and some calls were pretty messy, but nothing really that outstanding in comparison with the rest of my summer. I'm staying on for the next month to help with getting dogs licensed but I can't see that being nearly as exciting to write about.
Sadly there are still so many untold stories. I tried my best to keep this updated but some things just happened so often that I didn't think to write about them at the time.
For example, getting stuck in the Freezer of Death.
So the freezer's pretty big (to fit lots of dead things in, sometimes including deer) and you have to walk into it. Carcasses get stored until there's enough for a load to be cremated. It's kind of like doing laundry... you don't throw a lone pair of socks into the machine to be washed. (And of course by washed I mean incinerated and by socks I mean dead squirrels).
Problem being that the door to the Freezer shuts behind you, not often opening on your first push. It can be rather unnerving to be there...
In a freezer
Full of dead animals
Alone
Unable to get out.
Ah, some things never got old. No matter how many times it happened, there was always the brief flash of panic when the door would shut behind me with a dull thud.
Keeps you on your toes!
Well, that's all for now! We'll see if any stories generate themselves from licensing!
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Ghost of Employment Future?
Ah, fall is in the air!
...for those of us who are still around to breath it in anyway...
Anyone living in a university town has likely noticed the students starting to file in and this, sadly, is my first September not being one of them. It's been 18 years since September meant back-to-school and it feels surreal not to be a part of it.
For the last few weeks I have been intently wishing that I was going back to university and today I got my wish and got to go back to university... but it wasn't really what I had in mind. You see, there was a dead cat near one of the university buildings and so off I went.
I pull up next to the cat, get out, and start filling out the card in case someone reports it missing (general stuff like location, colourings, estimated age, any tags, gender, etc).
Cue cute university boy to enter the scene.
He walks across the street, smiles, nods, starts with "Hey there" and continues on making general small talk. Initial thought: oh this oughta be good.
Not wanting to be rude I respond with a polite hello and mentally begin the countdown.
5...
He definitely has not noticed that I am standing beside a very dead cat.
4...
In fact, my right foot is no more than a 2-3 inches from what's left of body.
3...
As it turns out... I'm not even sure how this cat managed to make such a mess (or how he's managed to miss seeing it). The thing's body was sprawled out on the curb while it's intestines trailed out onto the street for about a foot and a half.
2...
...Head was completely smashed in, eyes popped out, brains... you get the picture...
1...
aaaaaand so did he.
After a mid-sentence casual glance to the ground he quickly trailed off as his eyes shot up in alarm as if to say "OMG THERE IS A DEAD CAT RIGHT BY YOUR FOOT!"
Then, in an instant, I watched the realization set in as his eyes darted between the cat (or what was left of it), the Humane Society van, and myself. His expression swiftly shifted as if to say "omg... you're here to PICK UP the cat...".
At that he turned around and walked away.
He never did finish his sentence.
Funny story: He's getting his degree from the same university that I have one of mine from.
...for those of us who are still around to breath it in anyway...
Anyone living in a university town has likely noticed the students starting to file in and this, sadly, is my first September not being one of them. It's been 18 years since September meant back-to-school and it feels surreal not to be a part of it.
For the last few weeks I have been intently wishing that I was going back to university and today I got my wish and got to go back to university... but it wasn't really what I had in mind. You see, there was a dead cat near one of the university buildings and so off I went.
I pull up next to the cat, get out, and start filling out the card in case someone reports it missing (general stuff like location, colourings, estimated age, any tags, gender, etc).
Cue cute university boy to enter the scene.
He walks across the street, smiles, nods, starts with "Hey there" and continues on making general small talk. Initial thought: oh this oughta be good.
Not wanting to be rude I respond with a polite hello and mentally begin the countdown.
5...
He definitely has not noticed that I am standing beside a very dead cat.
4...
In fact, my right foot is no more than a 2-3 inches from what's left of body.
3...
As it turns out... I'm not even sure how this cat managed to make such a mess (or how he's managed to miss seeing it). The thing's body was sprawled out on the curb while it's intestines trailed out onto the street for about a foot and a half.
2...
...Head was completely smashed in, eyes popped out, brains... you get the picture...
1...
aaaaaand so did he.
After a mid-sentence casual glance to the ground he quickly trailed off as his eyes shot up in alarm as if to say "OMG THERE IS A DEAD CAT RIGHT BY YOUR FOOT!"
Then, in an instant, I watched the realization set in as his eyes darted between the cat (or what was left of it), the Humane Society van, and myself. His expression swiftly shifted as if to say "omg... you're here to PICK UP the cat...".
At that he turned around and walked away.
He never did finish his sentence.
Funny story: He's getting his degree from the same university that I have one of mine from.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
I Come Prepared
Today I was looking for a dead cat on the corner of a particularly busy intersection.
Intersections essentially make a square, and I am to locate a dead cat. This seems excessively simple -yet the folly of many intersections is that they have not one, but four corners. So crossing the street to check around a busy area I sometimes find myself playing a life-sized game of frogger.
Barely making it safely across the street once, I meet a man who offers to help me "look for the loose dog". However, after informing him that.. unless he really wants to help me find and pick up a dead cat, I can probably take care of it... assuming I can get back across the street safely. He does, however, offer to pick me off the side of the road should I get hit on my way back to my vehicle.
Part way across the street some car zips around the corner just missing me. I hear the guy on the sidewalk gasp while I find myself laughing at the potential irony of the entire situation and so I holler back to inform the guy that I've got a shovel in the back of my van in case he needs it.
Intersections essentially make a square, and I am to locate a dead cat. This seems excessively simple -yet the folly of many intersections is that they have not one, but four corners. So crossing the street to check around a busy area I sometimes find myself playing a life-sized game of frogger.
Barely making it safely across the street once, I meet a man who offers to help me "look for the loose dog". However, after informing him that.. unless he really wants to help me find and pick up a dead cat, I can probably take care of it... assuming I can get back across the street safely. He does, however, offer to pick me off the side of the road should I get hit on my way back to my vehicle.
Part way across the street some car zips around the corner just missing me. I hear the guy on the sidewalk gasp while I find myself laughing at the potential irony of the entire situation and so I holler back to inform the guy that I've got a shovel in the back of my van in case he needs it.
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Story I Didn't Want To Write
Also known as The Day I Cried.
So I see roadkill every day, but I never thought that I'd actually be the one creating my own. (I guess on the bright side I already had the bags and shovel with me.)
I was in a nice neighbourhood on my way to get a squirrel when this little girl was walking her adorable little golden retriever puppy when it somehow got away from her and--
Ok I'm totally kidding (shame on me, that was horrible).
But I would have cried in that story too.
Actually, this story doesn't involve roadkill at all.
I was picking up a big beautiful boxer from a vet clinic who'd just been neutered. He was a gorgeous dog but he'd snapped off a nail on his way into the clinic and, on top of the neuter, his front paw was all bandaged up.
I take him to the grass to do his business (he does nothing), load him into the van, and off we go back to the Humane Society. Well, as it turns out, my not so little friend had to tinkle after all. Actually, boxers aren't small dogs. It was more like a pressurized hose on full blast going off for about two full minutes in the back of my van. Thankfully, the dog was in a crate with a lip on it so it's not like the urine was all over the van.
But back at the Centre when I opened the trunk, there he was -sitting in a pool of pee. I tried my best to contain the mess. The poor guy was just neutered and the pee was... well, we'll go with a bit 'discoloured'. And for those of you who are unaware, male urine smells much worse than that of females. I laid a garbage bag between the back of the van and the front of the crate to line his exit route for an easy clean up.
Not too bad of a plan I thought.
But what've we learned about my plans so far? Yea.. this one didn't really work out either.
So the dog -covered in urine- rushes to get out of the van. Now don't forget his bandaged paw has done a nice job soaking up a lot of pee, as if the rest of him wasn't coated enough.
He scampers.
Pee splashes..
Everywhere...
Including in my face.
Yes -I had a freshly neutered dog's urine in my face.
And then no one was coming out to get the dog so I had to stand there leash in one hand, radio in the other, and just wait for someone until I could go in and wash/scrub/coat in sanitizer my face.
It was just a bad day. When I came home (yes living at home again... I get minimum wage, what else can you expect) and my mom asked me how my day was. I was just exhausted and I explained what happened, knowing it would be funny in the future so it kind of came out in a upset crying/laughing jumble... Which then resulted in an awkward hug as my mom was trying to balance the knowledge of 'my daughter needs a hug right now' versus the 'my daughter is covered in dog urine right now so I really don't want to touch her'.
So I see roadkill every day, but I never thought that I'd actually be the one creating my own. (I guess on the bright side I already had the bags and shovel with me.)
I was in a nice neighbourhood on my way to get a squirrel when this little girl was walking her adorable little golden retriever puppy when it somehow got away from her and--
Ok I'm totally kidding (shame on me, that was horrible).
But I would have cried in that story too.
Actually, this story doesn't involve roadkill at all.
I was picking up a big beautiful boxer from a vet clinic who'd just been neutered. He was a gorgeous dog but he'd snapped off a nail on his way into the clinic and, on top of the neuter, his front paw was all bandaged up.
I take him to the grass to do his business (he does nothing), load him into the van, and off we go back to the Humane Society. Well, as it turns out, my not so little friend had to tinkle after all. Actually, boxers aren't small dogs. It was more like a pressurized hose on full blast going off for about two full minutes in the back of my van. Thankfully, the dog was in a crate with a lip on it so it's not like the urine was all over the van.
But back at the Centre when I opened the trunk, there he was -sitting in a pool of pee. I tried my best to contain the mess. The poor guy was just neutered and the pee was... well, we'll go with a bit 'discoloured'. And for those of you who are unaware, male urine smells much worse than that of females. I laid a garbage bag between the back of the van and the front of the crate to line his exit route for an easy clean up.
Not too bad of a plan I thought.
But what've we learned about my plans so far? Yea.. this one didn't really work out either.
So the dog -covered in urine- rushes to get out of the van. Now don't forget his bandaged paw has done a nice job soaking up a lot of pee, as if the rest of him wasn't coated enough.
He scampers.
Pee splashes..
Everywhere...
Including in my face.
Yes -I had a freshly neutered dog's urine in my face.
And then no one was coming out to get the dog so I had to stand there leash in one hand, radio in the other, and just wait for someone until I could go in and wash/scrub/coat in sanitizer my face.
It was just a bad day. When I came home (yes living at home again... I get minimum wage, what else can you expect) and my mom asked me how my day was. I was just exhausted and I explained what happened, knowing it would be funny in the future so it kind of came out in a upset crying/laughing jumble... Which then resulted in an awkward hug as my mom was trying to balance the knowledge of 'my daughter needs a hug right now' versus the 'my daughter is covered in dog urine right now so I really don't want to touch her'.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Unnecessary
When most people happen to drive past a dead animal in the middle of the road they generally feel sad or grossed out -I, on the other hand, feel the duty to pull over and pick it up.
Not all things I pick up have been called in. Some I just come across in the midst of driving to and from various errands throughout the day; yet this morning's find was beyond the usual smushed rabbit or squirrel.
At first I thought that it was a black cat -which is why I stopped.
Wrong.
Skunk.
But this was no usual skunk, no --this skunk was virtually inside out.
In case you were wondering, inside out is bad. Plus it was pretty much the worst combination of smells you can imagine.
I had to use the shovel.
It was fresh (still limpy to handle plus it generated a really fresh and raw smell opposed to one after the odor has had a chance to dissipate).
The intestines were ruptured (intestines = stink central).
It was water-logged (that just enhances the stench to an entirely new level).
AND it was a skunk whose stink glands had been ruptured...
More on the Stink Spray from Pauline Gill at ehow.com:
The spray acts like tear gas that can cause momentary blindness to the predator, if the liquid gets near the eyes. It can cause nausea and vomiting because the chemical ingredients of the oil are thiols. Thiols are what make decomposing bodies and feces smell repulsive because they are emitted as part of the decomposing process. Skunks store the chemicals naturally as an oil. The spray is yellow oil that the skunk stores in two glands the size of grapes. The glands are located at the base of the tail. Each gland can store up to a tablespoon of oil that is enough for six discharges. If the skunk discharges all of the spray, it takes up to 10 days to restore it.
Anyway, I'm sure that most people have experienced what it's like to walk by an area where a skunk has sprayed... but imagine a dead skunk with ruptured stink glands... with the 12 sprays-worth of stench all at once.
Now don't get me wrong, I've experienced some pretty rancid smells over the summer and have enhanced my already extremely strong stomach.
But I still threw up a little bit in my throat.
Not an ideal way to start a morning.
Not all things I pick up have been called in. Some I just come across in the midst of driving to and from various errands throughout the day; yet this morning's find was beyond the usual smushed rabbit or squirrel.
At first I thought that it was a black cat -which is why I stopped.
Wrong.
Skunk.
But this was no usual skunk, no --this skunk was virtually inside out.
In case you were wondering, inside out is bad. Plus it was pretty much the worst combination of smells you can imagine.
I had to use the shovel.
It was fresh (still limpy to handle plus it generated a really fresh and raw smell opposed to one after the odor has had a chance to dissipate).
The intestines were ruptured (intestines = stink central).
It was water-logged (that just enhances the stench to an entirely new level).
AND it was a skunk whose stink glands had been ruptured...
More on the Stink Spray from Pauline Gill at ehow.com:
The spray acts like tear gas that can cause momentary blindness to the predator, if the liquid gets near the eyes. It can cause nausea and vomiting because the chemical ingredients of the oil are thiols. Thiols are what make decomposing bodies and feces smell repulsive because they are emitted as part of the decomposing process. Skunks store the chemicals naturally as an oil. The spray is yellow oil that the skunk stores in two glands the size of grapes. The glands are located at the base of the tail. Each gland can store up to a tablespoon of oil that is enough for six discharges. If the skunk discharges all of the spray, it takes up to 10 days to restore it.
Anyway, I'm sure that most people have experienced what it's like to walk by an area where a skunk has sprayed... but imagine a dead skunk with ruptured stink glands... with the 12 sprays-worth of stench all at once.
Now don't get me wrong, I've experienced some pretty rancid smells over the summer and have enhanced my already extremely strong stomach.
But I still threw up a little bit in my throat.
Not an ideal way to start a morning.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Tree Incident
This is the story of the day I hit a tree.
No, not with my vehicle.
--With my face.
I was chasing after an injured duck (ya'kno, crouched low, arms out, moving forward in an oddly similar waddling fashion to the injured duck itself), when I speedily waddled myself straight into a tree branch. Apparently I was too busy watching the stupid duck to see where I was actually going.
Then the darn bird hopped down into the stream and swam away. I sighed, put my hand on my newly scraped forehead, and turned around thoroughly unsuccessful just in time to wave back at a cyclist biking towards me along the path.
I bet he thought I was so cool.
No, not with my vehicle.
--With my face.
I was chasing after an injured duck (ya'kno, crouched low, arms out, moving forward in an oddly similar waddling fashion to the injured duck itself), when I speedily waddled myself straight into a tree branch. Apparently I was too busy watching the stupid duck to see where I was actually going.
Then the darn bird hopped down into the stream and swam away. I sighed, put my hand on my newly scraped forehead, and turned around thoroughly unsuccessful just in time to wave back at a cyclist biking towards me along the path.
I bet he thought I was so cool.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Catching up!
Oh goodness, apparently I have been hugely slacking lately.
It's not like there hasn't been plenty of gooey, sticky, and smelly things for me to pick up... I've just been short on time to share the stories! I've had to back track a little bit but I figure that's alright.
Haha sorry! I didn't realize people actually read this often enough to notice my slacking!
It's not like there hasn't been plenty of gooey, sticky, and smelly things for me to pick up... I've just been short on time to share the stories! I've had to back track a little bit but I figure that's alright.
Haha sorry! I didn't realize people actually read this often enough to notice my slacking!
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