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!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Bad Combination
It's been really stormy lately and my head doesn't do well with that; so today at work I was feeling quite under the weather.
Just in case anyone was curious, this is really not the job to have while you're feeling sick.
Just in case anyone was curious, this is really not the job to have while you're feeling sick.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
So Generous
Today I had a ride-along.
One of the girls on a co-op position from college had been working in the back with the Animal Care Staff but this morning they decided to send her along with me to see another aspect of what the Humane Society takes care of.
Apparently today was the day for dead raccoons, we had about five, but it was nice to have someone to chat with. Usually my other passengers are so quiet.
I teased her saying that she'd have to pick something up, as I did with another ride-along that I had in the past, but I didn't actually expect her to do it. But after watching me pick up a few raccoons I asked her if she wanted to get the next one and she said she would... except when we got there this raccoon was teeming with maggots... especially crawling out the eye sockets and inside the mouth.
I told her she didn't have to get it and at the very least offered to get her the shovel -but after a few deep breathes she stooped and scooped that stinker right up.
Most of it anyway, a bit of it's face fell off but I picked that up for her.
I was impressed! Far be it from me to horde all the exciting stories for myself!
One of the girls on a co-op position from college had been working in the back with the Animal Care Staff but this morning they decided to send her along with me to see another aspect of what the Humane Society takes care of.
Apparently today was the day for dead raccoons, we had about five, but it was nice to have someone to chat with. Usually my other passengers are so quiet.
I teased her saying that she'd have to pick something up, as I did with another ride-along that I had in the past, but I didn't actually expect her to do it. But after watching me pick up a few raccoons I asked her if she wanted to get the next one and she said she would... except when we got there this raccoon was teeming with maggots... especially crawling out the eye sockets and inside the mouth.
I told her she didn't have to get it and at the very least offered to get her the shovel -but after a few deep breathes she stooped and scooped that stinker right up.
Most of it anyway, a bit of it's face fell off but I picked that up for her.
I was impressed! Far be it from me to horde all the exciting stories for myself!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Oh Deer...
Yep! That's right! I got my first deer today!
Well... part of it anyway.
This call came out to us as "a skinned carcass on the side of the road". We figured it was a deer so two of us went out to deal with it (often they are too big for one person handle... and they'd certainly be too big for me to lug around alone).
However, when we got there we realized that there was no actual body to the deer... just a pile of intestines and organs next to a skinned head. I was told that in all likelihood a hunter probably dumped the parts there rather than properly disposing of them.
Thanks Mr. Hunter, because of your laziness I had to pick up after you.
The other officer got the pile of inner-bits while I got the skinned head; except he dropped one of the organs so I picked that up too... I think it was either a lung or the liver... perhaps I should brush up on my anatomy so I can recognize the different parts that I come across.
...Future field trip option for an authentic learning opportunity with real-life application?!
Maybe not.
Well... part of it anyway.
This call came out to us as "a skinned carcass on the side of the road". We figured it was a deer so two of us went out to deal with it (often they are too big for one person handle... and they'd certainly be too big for me to lug around alone).
However, when we got there we realized that there was no actual body to the deer... just a pile of intestines and organs next to a skinned head. I was told that in all likelihood a hunter probably dumped the parts there rather than properly disposing of them.
Thanks Mr. Hunter, because of your laziness I had to pick up after you.
The other officer got the pile of inner-bits while I got the skinned head; except he dropped one of the organs so I picked that up too... I think it was either a lung or the liver... perhaps I should brush up on my anatomy so I can recognize the different parts that I come across.
...Future field trip option for an authentic learning opportunity with real-life application?!
Maybe not.
Monday, August 17, 2009
What's the Point?
I've never owned a cat. I've never been inclined to own a cat. Although I don't mind cats, I'm much more of a dog person. Personally, I consider this to be incredibly helpful because quite often I find myself scraping cats off the side of the road or bagging cats that have crawled off and died in the bushes. Really, starting your day bagging a couple dead cats each morning is not really ideal... but I can imagine it being much worse if I had owned any cats in the past.
Warning: rant
...When I do find myself picking up cats, although it's sad, I find myself thinking about the (pardon me) stupid owners who let them run around outside. Seriously, it is a pet owner's job to protect and care for their animals. Cats don't understand crosswalk signals and I can guarantee you that they're always on the losing team when up against a vehicle... so I don't understand how people are actually surprised when their cat gets hit by a car.
End rant.
Anyway... before I started this job little did I know that there were multiple types of Siamese cats that are classified by different 'points' noted on their face: seal point, chocolate point, blue point, and lilac point. So I pull up behind this cat by the curb and note that it looks like a Siamese.
"Interesting," I think to myself, "I wonder if I can remember what kind of point it is!"
(Okay... give me a break here. My days are not exactly intellectually challenging and anything that keeps my brain thinking turns out to be exciting for me.)
However, when I walk around to the front of the cat all I see is a bloody mashed in and popped out head. I think the eyes get to me the most. And it was still dripping. Needless to say, I was unable to classify the Siamese's point.
...Honestly, keep your darn cats inside.
Warning: rant
...When I do find myself picking up cats, although it's sad, I find myself thinking about the (pardon me) stupid owners who let them run around outside. Seriously, it is a pet owner's job to protect and care for their animals. Cats don't understand crosswalk signals and I can guarantee you that they're always on the losing team when up against a vehicle... so I don't understand how people are actually surprised when their cat gets hit by a car.
End rant.
Anyway... before I started this job little did I know that there were multiple types of Siamese cats that are classified by different 'points' noted on their face: seal point, chocolate point, blue point, and lilac point. So I pull up behind this cat by the curb and note that it looks like a Siamese.
"Interesting," I think to myself, "I wonder if I can remember what kind of point it is!"
(Okay... give me a break here. My days are not exactly intellectually challenging and anything that keeps my brain thinking turns out to be exciting for me.)
However, when I walk around to the front of the cat all I see is a bloody mashed in and popped out head. I think the eyes get to me the most. And it was still dripping. Needless to say, I was unable to classify the Siamese's point.
...Honestly, keep your darn cats inside.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Capture of the Cockatiel
I got my first stray today!
Generally speaking, I do DOAs (Dead On Arrival), injured birds, animal transport (to and from vets), other errands, and some licensing... but today I got a stray.
A pearl cockatiel had escaped and was found by a couple, ushered into their kitchen, and was being kept under a laundry basket. Although the husband wanted to keep it, the wife had vetoed that option and so there I was.
The little guy didn't want to climb up on my hand while my gloves were on, but the husband reassured me that he was really friendly and that I would probably be fine without them. Sure enough, gloves removed, the cockatiel soon hopped up and climbed up to perch quite comfortably on my shoulder. Obviously I couldn't go outside with him there as he'd fly away but when I tried to get him on my hand again he flew over to the husband.
This was the plan: have him hop up on my left hand, pet him with my right, and then gently hold his wings down so I'd be able to bring him to the crate. (You know, my ideas always seem to work so well in theory... but by now I should really know ahead of time that they're going to somehow mess up.)
Cockateils, as I soon found out, do not like to be confined like this by strangers and they also have really bendy necks. Meaning, very effectively biting my hands and fingers was not a problem for the littly guy.
"Oh, he's really biting you there eh?"
"Yea..." And so I ask the husband to help put a glove on each hand while I hold the bird in the other.
"Oh, well it can't be all that bad.." chimes in the wife.
"Well," I laugh and calmly say,"it's enough... I mean, he's drawing blood and I'm bleeding from my fingernails so... I wouldn't mind the gloves..."
The bird was contained and I brought my first stray back to the Centre without any further problems. But realistically, just throwing this out there, bleeding from the fingernails is not exactly pleasant. I didn't exactly see her going within 5 ft of the bird...
Generally speaking, I do DOAs (Dead On Arrival), injured birds, animal transport (to and from vets), other errands, and some licensing... but today I got a stray.
A pearl cockatiel had escaped and was found by a couple, ushered into their kitchen, and was being kept under a laundry basket. Although the husband wanted to keep it, the wife had vetoed that option and so there I was.
The little guy didn't want to climb up on my hand while my gloves were on, but the husband reassured me that he was really friendly and that I would probably be fine without them. Sure enough, gloves removed, the cockatiel soon hopped up and climbed up to perch quite comfortably on my shoulder. Obviously I couldn't go outside with him there as he'd fly away but when I tried to get him on my hand again he flew over to the husband.
This was the plan: have him hop up on my left hand, pet him with my right, and then gently hold his wings down so I'd be able to bring him to the crate. (You know, my ideas always seem to work so well in theory... but by now I should really know ahead of time that they're going to somehow mess up.)
Cockateils, as I soon found out, do not like to be confined like this by strangers and they also have really bendy necks. Meaning, very effectively biting my hands and fingers was not a problem for the littly guy.
"Oh, he's really biting you there eh?"
"Yea..." And so I ask the husband to help put a glove on each hand while I hold the bird in the other.
"Oh, well it can't be all that bad.." chimes in the wife.
"Well," I laugh and calmly say,"it's enough... I mean, he's drawing blood and I'm bleeding from my fingernails so... I wouldn't mind the gloves..."
The bird was contained and I brought my first stray back to the Centre without any further problems. But realistically, just throwing this out there, bleeding from the fingernails is not exactly pleasant. I didn't exactly see her going within 5 ft of the bird...
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Inevitability
The fairy-tale ending in a chick-flick...
Frizzy hair on beach day...
Massive blisters after breaking in a new pair of heels through a night out dancing...
Some things in life are just inevitable...
...like how on long weekends, lots and lots of stuff will get hit.
Today was really busy (catching up on all the death from the weekend); yet, when looking back on my day, I thought that nothing particularly abnormal struck me as noteworthy.
Then I begin to think --today I picked up...
-a dead cat that had an eyeball dangling from it's socket
-half a dozen squirrels (it's a wonder they keep their population up)
-a ridiculously, wretched smelling opossum that I had to tie outside of my van
-another dead cat that seemed okay from the front, but had essentially pooped out its insides
-a bloated raccoon
- and I'd also fended off a horde of wasps in picking up a dead duck along some trail
There were more animals I'm sure, but after a while they start to blend together. Again, another inevitable result of my job I suppose. However, I'd like to note that in my case becoming jaded as an incredibly good thing.
What I can't understand is how, in my line of work, some other people choose to ignore the inevitable problems that arise from dead animals; i.e. stench, flies, maggots.
Last week I got a call for a dead opossum in a family's backyard. (For the record, calls on people's property are generally fairly intact as they haven't been rotting for too long before getting called in.) But this mom decided to go against the grain. This animal had been rotting for, oh, probably a month. The smell was unreal. I stood there and just looked at the darn thing for two minutes watching its skin literally crawl and ripple from the maggots.
I had two options:
1) Gloved/normal bagging technique
2) Shovel
Ah, I'll just grab it and get it over with -it's faster as it's a hassle fumbling with an open bag, and I didn't really want to deal with the obscene amount of maggots for any longer than necessary.
I chose wrong.
I grabbed and bagged him, but a lot of good that did. I basically got the skeletal structure and head while the rest of the flesh just kind of... schlumped off... and what I was left with looked like a 5 lb bucket of maggots, fur, and fleshy bits had been dumped out on the grass (mostly maggots though). I tried using the shovel (for the first time might I add) but... I think I just ended up spreading it around more.
Ah well, what did they expect? To leave a rotting animal and have it magically disappear without a mess? It would have been so much easier to deal with if she'd called it in right away... or just picked it up herself (she probably doesn't have a pair of Man-Pants though).
Frizzy hair on beach day...
Massive blisters after breaking in a new pair of heels through a night out dancing...
Some things in life are just inevitable...
...like how on long weekends, lots and lots of stuff will get hit.
Today was really busy (catching up on all the death from the weekend); yet, when looking back on my day, I thought that nothing particularly abnormal struck me as noteworthy.
Then I begin to think --today I picked up...
-a dead cat that had an eyeball dangling from it's socket
-half a dozen squirrels (it's a wonder they keep their population up)
-a ridiculously, wretched smelling opossum that I had to tie outside of my van
-another dead cat that seemed okay from the front, but had essentially pooped out its insides
-a bloated raccoon
- and I'd also fended off a horde of wasps in picking up a dead duck along some trail
There were more animals I'm sure, but after a while they start to blend together. Again, another inevitable result of my job I suppose. However, I'd like to note that in my case becoming jaded as an incredibly good thing.
What I can't understand is how, in my line of work, some other people choose to ignore the inevitable problems that arise from dead animals; i.e. stench, flies, maggots.
Last week I got a call for a dead opossum in a family's backyard. (For the record, calls on people's property are generally fairly intact as they haven't been rotting for too long before getting called in.) But this mom decided to go against the grain. This animal had been rotting for, oh, probably a month. The smell was unreal. I stood there and just looked at the darn thing for two minutes watching its skin literally crawl and ripple from the maggots.
I had two options:
1) Gloved/normal bagging technique
2) Shovel
Ah, I'll just grab it and get it over with -it's faster as it's a hassle fumbling with an open bag, and I didn't really want to deal with the obscene amount of maggots for any longer than necessary.
I chose wrong.
I grabbed and bagged him, but a lot of good that did. I basically got the skeletal structure and head while the rest of the flesh just kind of... schlumped off... and what I was left with looked like a 5 lb bucket of maggots, fur, and fleshy bits had been dumped out on the grass (mostly maggots though). I tried using the shovel (for the first time might I add) but... I think I just ended up spreading it around more.
Ah well, what did they expect? To leave a rotting animal and have it magically disappear without a mess? It would have been so much easier to deal with if she'd called it in right away... or just picked it up herself (she probably doesn't have a pair of Man-Pants though).
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Patent Ready!
Today was not a great day.
Realistically speaking, my job is not exactly what I would consider stressful. I get calls, I drive to them, I get to them when I can... it's not like they're going anywhere.
Needless to say, it's not exactly life and death... well, for me anyway.
But today was not ideal. There was a bit of rain (bit surprise with the summer we've been having) and this seemingly warranted people to drive like idiots. I think that I may have been driving around with a sign strapped to my van reading "PLEASE CUT ME OFF".
However!
Alert the papers: I have found the solution to tailgaters.
It's easy! All you have to do is tie a dead skunk to hang out the trunk of your vehicle!
That trip back to the shelter was the best drive I had all day.
Realistically speaking, my job is not exactly what I would consider stressful. I get calls, I drive to them, I get to them when I can... it's not like they're going anywhere.
Needless to say, it's not exactly life and death... well, for me anyway.
But today was not ideal. There was a bit of rain (bit surprise with the summer we've been having) and this seemingly warranted people to drive like idiots. I think that I may have been driving around with a sign strapped to my van reading "PLEASE CUT ME OFF".
However!
Alert the papers: I have found the solution to tailgaters.
It's easy! All you have to do is tie a dead skunk to hang out the trunk of your vehicle!
That trip back to the shelter was the best drive I had all day.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sometimes You Just Know
It's true.
Sometimes, you can just tell that a call is going to be an adventure:
"DOA ground hog -Back of building, stuck in pipe."
Oh goodness...
I arrive at the back of a small apartment building and find that where the parking lot ends there is a retaining wall down about a foot to the sloping grassy back area. Sticking out of this wall... is a ground hog. You see, there's a drain pipe that went under the parking lot and exited at this wall. There is, however, a small pipe that crosses the larger hole to, as I understand, try and keep animals out.... evidentially quite unsuccessfully mind you.
Something like this:
Anyway, see that little spot between the bar and the bottom of the pipe? That is where the stupid little stinker wedged his head in and died.
An incredibly nice older woman who made the call greeted me, soon followed by the building's superintendent and another building resident. Again, surprised to see me as the one showing up to remedy this situation, we joked about getting paid the 'big bucks' for my job... aka. min wage.
Gloves? -check
Garbage bag? -check
Vicks? (for the smell) -check
Man-Pants? -check
Getting hold of the little guy's shoulders, I give a tug.... zero movement.
<crowd gasps>
Tugging harder, trying to shimmy him out for a few minutes, I make little leeway. The superintendent suggests I lose the garbage bag and just grab him with the gloves for more traction... I say he's more than welcome to give that method a try if he'd like, yet surprisingly he declines.
We laugh and chat, mostly about how I'm supposed to be an elementary school teacher,as the peanut gallery grows slightly. Eventually the older woman needs to catch the bus to work, but sadly comments that she wishes she could see how it all ends... luckily for her the superintendent offers to drive her to work. (New thought: charging admission?)
Progress is slow. Shimmying only works so well... I'm not going to lie, bits of his scalp were coming off... how he got in there in the first place is beyond me. I eventually reach in and try to push him out... meaning I find myself reaching into a hole to push on a dead, bloated ground hog's face in order to unwedge it from being stuck in a pipe.
Seriously, I have no idea how either the ground hog or myself got into that situation.
Yet I can't deny that my day provides me with very unique accomplishments.
After 30-45 minutes of pushing and tugging on the little bugger, when he finally came lose I, along with my newly formed fan club, cheered.
...Oddly enough, thinking this would be the end of my 'interesting' calls for the day, I went directly from this to a woman with a dead goose... stuck on top of her gazebo.
"Yea... I don't really know how you're going to get it off of there"
"Neither do I... but it's gotta be easier than the ground hog I just dealt with..."
Sometimes, you can just tell that a call is going to be an adventure:
"DOA ground hog -Back of building, stuck in pipe."
Oh goodness...
I arrive at the back of a small apartment building and find that where the parking lot ends there is a retaining wall down about a foot to the sloping grassy back area. Sticking out of this wall... is a ground hog. You see, there's a drain pipe that went under the parking lot and exited at this wall. There is, however, a small pipe that crosses the larger hole to, as I understand, try and keep animals out.... evidentially quite unsuccessfully mind you.
Something like this:
Anyway, see that little spot between the bar and the bottom of the pipe? That is where the stupid little stinker wedged his head in and died.An incredibly nice older woman who made the call greeted me, soon followed by the building's superintendent and another building resident. Again, surprised to see me as the one showing up to remedy this situation, we joked about getting paid the 'big bucks' for my job... aka. min wage.
Gloves? -check
Garbage bag? -check
Vicks? (for the smell) -check
Man-Pants? -check
Getting hold of the little guy's shoulders, I give a tug.... zero movement.
<
Tugging harder, trying to shimmy him out for a few minutes, I make little leeway. The superintendent suggests I lose the garbage bag and just grab him with the gloves for more traction... I say he's more than welcome to give that method a try if he'd like, yet surprisingly he declines.
We laugh and chat, mostly about how I'm supposed to be an elementary school teacher,as the peanut gallery grows slightly. Eventually the older woman needs to catch the bus to work, but sadly comments that she wishes she could see how it all ends... luckily for her the superintendent offers to drive her to work. (New thought: charging admission?)
Progress is slow. Shimmying only works so well... I'm not going to lie, bits of his scalp were coming off... how he got in there in the first place is beyond me. I eventually reach in and try to push him out... meaning I find myself reaching into a hole to push on a dead, bloated ground hog's face in order to unwedge it from being stuck in a pipe.
Seriously, I have no idea how either the ground hog or myself got into that situation.
Yet I can't deny that my day provides me with very unique accomplishments.
After 30-45 minutes of pushing and tugging on the little bugger, when he finally came lose I, along with my newly formed fan club, cheered.
...Oddly enough, thinking this would be the end of my 'interesting' calls for the day, I went directly from this to a woman with a dead goose... stuck on top of her gazebo.
"Yea... I don't really know how you're going to get it off of there"
"Neither do I... but it's gotta be easier than the ground hog I just dealt with..."
Friday, July 24, 2009
A Friendly Reminder...
Today was a bit different. We've been updating our dog licensing and I was calling around to different households to remind them that their dog's license is out of date.
At first I thought that the worst part of this task would be leaving answering machine messages for people. I know everyone thinks that they sound like a moron when they leave messages, but I somehow seem to feel especially stupid.
However...
There are a few main reasons why people haven't renewed their dog's license:
1) They've moved
2) The dog has died
3) They just genuinely forgot
The last option isn't so bad and neither is the first, with the exception of that awkward "...um... no, sorry, I think you have the wrong number" moment.
Yet please note possibility #2.
Therefore, most of what I say seems to go something like this:
"Hello! It's the Humane Society calling. We've been updating our dog licensing and we're calling to check on how Scruffy's doing!
...Oh... just passed away... I'm so sorry to hear that...
...Yes ma'am... I'm sure he was a lovely dog...
...I'm... really sorry to have brought all this up again...
...Did you happen to get another dog by any chance?
...Irreplaceable, yes I ..I understand...
...Ma'am, yes, I'm really sorry for your loss..."
I should just change my message to straight out say
"Hello! It's the Humane Society calling. This is just a friendly reminder about how your dog just died. ..Oh you just got over that? ...Yep, we're rehashing that wound for you all over again! Alright, well you have a good day! Take care!"
Calling old ladies is the worst.
I am a horrible person.
At first I thought that the worst part of this task would be leaving answering machine messages for people. I know everyone thinks that they sound like a moron when they leave messages, but I somehow seem to feel especially stupid.
However...
There are a few main reasons why people haven't renewed their dog's license:
1) They've moved
2) The dog has died
3) They just genuinely forgot
The last option isn't so bad and neither is the first, with the exception of that awkward "...um... no, sorry, I think you have the wrong number" moment.
Yet please note possibility #2.
Therefore, most of what I say seems to go something like this:
"Hello! It's the Humane Society calling. We've been updating our dog licensing and we're calling to check on how Scruffy's doing!
...Oh... just passed away... I'm so sorry to hear that...
...Yes ma'am... I'm sure he was a lovely dog...
...I'm... really sorry to have brought all this up again...
...Did you happen to get another dog by any chance?
...Irreplaceable, yes I ..I understand...
...Ma'am, yes, I'm really sorry for your loss..."
I should just change my message to straight out say
"Hello! It's the Humane Society calling. This is just a friendly reminder about how your dog just died. ..Oh you just got over that? ...Yep, we're rehashing that wound for you all over again! Alright, well you have a good day! Take care!"
Calling old ladies is the worst.
I am a horrible person.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I'm Not Really Sure About How Spellcheck Would Feel About This One...
Pull up to squirrel in the middle of the road.
Intact? Check.
Win.
Seriously, it's an easy pick up... maybe 2 seconds max.
I get out of the vehicle, bag in hand, and am about to grab the little critter when a vehicle approaches. I step back from being half a moment away from very obviously picking up the animal in the middle of the road when...
KKQWURSPLLRDTHH.....
I turn to face the moronic driver, raise my arms in dismay... only to hear...
QRSPLLUDDRRUH...
...
A second car?
seriously?
Thanks.
Well... needless to say... my nice, intact, simple, and easy squirrel was no longer around.
Intact? Check.
Win.
Seriously, it's an easy pick up... maybe 2 seconds max.
I get out of the vehicle, bag in hand, and am about to grab the little critter when a vehicle approaches. I step back from being half a moment away from very obviously picking up the animal in the middle of the road when...
KKQWURSPLLRDTHH.....
I turn to face the moronic driver, raise my arms in dismay... only to hear...
QRSPLLUDDRRUH...
...
A second car?
seriously?
Thanks.
Well... needless to say... my nice, intact, simple, and easy squirrel was no longer around.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Progress!
An additional side note for today:
I bagged another skunk, but all by myself this time! Also, I wasn't even that stinky afterwards.
I realize that this is largely due to the fact that the skunk had managed to bite the big one without rupturing his stink glands (bless his heart), but I, on the other hand, am going to chalk my relatively-stinkless-escape up to my progressing skills.
Now that's what I call talent!
I bagged another skunk, but all by myself this time! Also, I wasn't even that stinky afterwards.
I realize that this is largely due to the fact that the skunk had managed to bite the big one without rupturing his stink glands (bless his heart), but I, on the other hand, am going to chalk my relatively-stinkless-escape up to my progressing skills.
Now that's what I call talent!
Couldn't You Have Just Buried It?
Now, I know it may sound surprising, but dead things are not always easy to find.
Yes, they are usually splattered across the pavement like one of those grade school projects where you try to drop an egg off the roof and you're supposed to create a parachute but it never really works properly... or was that just me? But then again, sometimes they look like a bowl of red jello scrambled up with bits of fur and then dumped onto the ground... oh, and then there are always those "chip bag" incidents. You know, when you get those mini bags of chips and someone inevitably steps on one left on the ground and pops it. The bag itself still looks relatively intact, but all the chips have shot out one end and exploded across the floor.... Take the same concept and substitute the chip bag with.. oh, I don't know --a bunny.
Anyway, where was I going with this....
Ah yes, sometimes these little critters can hide on you!
Thankfully, today offered me some assistance in locating a dead squirrel. No, it wasn't the smell. True --that usually helps. But you see, depending on how fresh these things are the rancid stench can wain in a strong breeze.
No no, actually... an entire construction crew decided to flag me down.
Arms were frantically waved. Flags were flapped. And in and amungst the whistling and laughing, a collective "THE DEAD SQUIRREL IS OVER HERE!!!" resounded out from the group.
Awesome. Way to be discrete. I don't know if any of you realize how awkward it can be to have an entire crowd of people staring at you while you pick up a dead animal, but apparently I am fascinating. Perhaps I should start charging admission....
I do, however, find myself laughing at the hushed "...yea, it IS a chick" murmers that always seem to carry on. Yes I am a girl. Yes I am picking up dead things. I also loaded up over 100 pounds of donated pet food into my van with a man standing there watching me today. But as far as the death is concerned, seriously guys, I'm just going to pick it up through a garbage bag. Don't you think, as big manly construction workers, that you should be able to do that for yourself?
Something tells me that my expectations might be a bit high. I'm pretty sure chivalry died, rotted, got super maggoty, was scraped off the pavement, and then bagged by me a long time ago.
Yes, they are usually splattered across the pavement like one of those grade school projects where you try to drop an egg off the roof and you're supposed to create a parachute but it never really works properly... or was that just me? But then again, sometimes they look like a bowl of red jello scrambled up with bits of fur and then dumped onto the ground... oh, and then there are always those "chip bag" incidents. You know, when you get those mini bags of chips and someone inevitably steps on one left on the ground and pops it. The bag itself still looks relatively intact, but all the chips have shot out one end and exploded across the floor.... Take the same concept and substitute the chip bag with.. oh, I don't know --a bunny.
Anyway, where was I going with this....
Ah yes, sometimes these little critters can hide on you!
Thankfully, today offered me some assistance in locating a dead squirrel. No, it wasn't the smell. True --that usually helps. But you see, depending on how fresh these things are the rancid stench can wain in a strong breeze.
No no, actually... an entire construction crew decided to flag me down.
Arms were frantically waved. Flags were flapped. And in and amungst the whistling and laughing, a collective "THE DEAD SQUIRREL IS OVER HERE!!!" resounded out from the group.
Awesome. Way to be discrete. I don't know if any of you realize how awkward it can be to have an entire crowd of people staring at you while you pick up a dead animal, but apparently I am fascinating. Perhaps I should start charging admission....
I do, however, find myself laughing at the hushed "...yea, it IS a chick" murmers that always seem to carry on. Yes I am a girl. Yes I am picking up dead things. I also loaded up over 100 pounds of donated pet food into my van with a man standing there watching me today. But as far as the death is concerned, seriously guys, I'm just going to pick it up through a garbage bag. Don't you think, as big manly construction workers, that you should be able to do that for yourself?
Something tells me that my expectations might be a bit high. I'm pretty sure chivalry died, rotted, got super maggoty, was scraped off the pavement, and then bagged by me a long time ago.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
My Sense of Normal Is Severly Distorted
It was 11 o'clock and all was well.
Two hours on the job and I hadn't touched anything dead yet. I'd brought some animals to the vet and had started to learn how to do some computer task related to dog licensing.
11:30 -A call for a dead squirrel; yet I arrive and it's nowhere to be found.
11:35 -A thought: Oh my goodness. What if this keeps up until noon? Maybe I could actually pass an entire Wednesday morning without touching anything dead. (Not a thought that likely crosses many people's mind mid-work-week, the fact that not touching dead things is abnormal. But then again, I've never really considered my sense of normalcy to be all that common -and this job really hasn't help change that.)
11:45 -A call for a dead opossum; my plan is beginning to deflate. It's okay, I think to myself, maybe if I drive there slowly it'll be after noon, or it'll be missing when I arrive again...
Fat chance.
This opossum made up for the fact that I hadn't touched anything else all morning.
He was fresh. Really fresh. Meaning, the blood is still pretty runny and bright red... then he went and had his head smashed in, so brains were all over the place... gross right? I mean, really gross. True, but oddly its nothing I haven't seen before. It wouldn't have been a problem, but then to top it all off the little bugger went and shat himself.
He was double bagged.
I was not impressed.
I got back into my van at 11:58.
Two hours on the job and I hadn't touched anything dead yet. I'd brought some animals to the vet and had started to learn how to do some computer task related to dog licensing.
11:30 -A call for a dead squirrel; yet I arrive and it's nowhere to be found.
11:35 -A thought: Oh my goodness. What if this keeps up until noon? Maybe I could actually pass an entire Wednesday morning without touching anything dead. (Not a thought that likely crosses many people's mind mid-work-week, the fact that not touching dead things is abnormal. But then again, I've never really considered my sense of normalcy to be all that common -and this job really hasn't help change that.)
11:45 -A call for a dead opossum; my plan is beginning to deflate. It's okay, I think to myself, maybe if I drive there slowly it'll be after noon, or it'll be missing when I arrive again...
Fat chance.
This opossum made up for the fact that I hadn't touched anything else all morning.
He was fresh. Really fresh. Meaning, the blood is still pretty runny and bright red... then he went and had his head smashed in, so brains were all over the place... gross right? I mean, really gross. True, but oddly its nothing I haven't seen before. It wouldn't have been a problem, but then to top it all off the little bugger went and shat himself.
POO EVERYWHERE
He was double bagged.
I was not impressed.
I got back into my van at 11:58.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Fence Incident
Today I encountered the most awkward death I've had to deal with by far.
A raccoon, you see, had gotten stuck in a fence and passed away.
Reaction: Poor raccoon, go to backyard fence, remove raccoon, carry on.
Life: "Oh no, it's Friday, it's hot... let's make this more complicated..."
Me: "But... Is that really necessary?"
Life: "Yes. Most definitely."
I felt like I was dealing with one of those little brain teasers where you're trying to remove the metal ring from an odd entanglement involving small rope and wooden sticks. Except this brain teaser involved a dead raccoon instead of a metal ring, tall grass and weeds instead of rope, and then a large, tall, warped wooden fence.... plus then add in an exceptionally large swarm of flies along with half a dozen wasps surrounding you while you complete this task.
Ooo fun...
Now, I understand that people generally complain saying "I don't get paid enough to put up with...blah blah blah..."
But SERIOUSLY
I do NOT get paid enough to, not only pick up dead things, but also get stung half a dozen times by angry wasps in the process.
I shake my fist at you minimum wage.
I radio the other officers asking what to do with the wasps (maybe there's a trick to getting rid of them? ...I don't really know what I was going for...)
"No trick... That's just part of the job that we have to deal with."
"...Oh..."
"-Wait, well... are you allergic to bees?"
...just say yes. Then someone else will probably offer to come and deal with this. You don't know for sure, people develop allergies all the time. Maybe you ARE allergic to bees and you've recently developed an allergy that you're unaware of! Getting stung IS really uncomfortable. So you COULD be allergic! Best not to take the risk.... just say yes...
"No. Not allergic. I.. just really don't enjoy getting stung..."
So here's the setting. I tried to think of how I could best explain it; turns out that I'm using pictures more than I thought I would. But give me a break, I'm using Paint here.
Alright, so this warped fence had created an unfortunate gap between the boards, much more narrow than above, but hopefully you get the idea. From what I could tell, some poor raccoon was strolling along the top of the fence and then had a misstep or something and managed to fall between the gap in the boards. The poor thing had it's body on one side and its head on the other.
Sad for the raccoon.
Terrifying for me.
What this means is that not only am I fending off wasps to pick up a dead raccoon (trust me, if I had any say in the matter I would've let them keep it), but I have to slide this thing up the fence vertically because the wedge that has been created is not wide enough for the head to be pulled through horizontally. It was kind of like when you see a kid with his head stuck in a banister and he can't back out... except it was a dead raccoon head...
Eventually I did manage to successfully remove the raccoon and remained free from wasp stings.
Needless to say, it was disgusting.
However, I did have some help. With all the trouble I was having (the darn thing was really stuck in there) the homeowner asked if he could do anything and I suggested that he try to pull on the warped fence in attempts to to widen the gap as much as he could to at least remove some pressure. What I neglected to realize at the time was, as I finally managed to slide the raccoon up the fence I was dealing with the weighty lump of its body.... the homeowner, on the other hand, got to watch a dead raccoon head float up the edge of his fencing from the other side.
Oh goodness, I couldn't help but laugh. But he was a good sport about it. He thanked me incessantly, promised to fix the gap in the fence, and proclaimed a new appreciation for his paper-pushing desk job.
A raccoon, you see, had gotten stuck in a fence and passed away.
Reaction: Poor raccoon, go to backyard fence, remove raccoon, carry on.
Life: "Oh no, it's Friday, it's hot... let's make this more complicated..."
Me: "But... Is that really necessary?"
Life: "Yes. Most definitely."
I felt like I was dealing with one of those little brain teasers where you're trying to remove the metal ring from an odd entanglement involving small rope and wooden sticks. Except this brain teaser involved a dead raccoon instead of a metal ring, tall grass and weeds instead of rope, and then a large, tall, warped wooden fence.... plus then add in an exceptionally large swarm of flies along with half a dozen wasps surrounding you while you complete this task.
Ooo fun...
Now, I understand that people generally complain saying "I don't get paid enough to put up with...blah blah blah..."
But SERIOUSLY
I do NOT get paid enough to, not only pick up dead things, but also get stung half a dozen times by angry wasps in the process.
I shake my fist at you minimum wage.
I radio the other officers asking what to do with the wasps (maybe there's a trick to getting rid of them? ...I don't really know what I was going for...)
"No trick... That's just part of the job that we have to deal with."
"...Oh..."
"-Wait, well... are you allergic to bees?"
...just say yes. Then someone else will probably offer to come and deal with this. You don't know for sure, people develop allergies all the time. Maybe you ARE allergic to bees and you've recently developed an allergy that you're unaware of! Getting stung IS really uncomfortable. So you COULD be allergic! Best not to take the risk.... just say yes...
"No. Not allergic. I.. just really don't enjoy getting stung..."
So here's the setting. I tried to think of how I could best explain it; turns out that I'm using pictures more than I thought I would. But give me a break, I'm using Paint here.
Alright, so this warped fence had created an unfortunate gap between the boards, much more narrow than above, but hopefully you get the idea. From what I could tell, some poor raccoon was strolling along the top of the fence and then had a misstep or something and managed to fall between the gap in the boards. The poor thing had it's body on one side and its head on the other.Sad for the raccoon.
Terrifying for me.
What this means is that not only am I fending off wasps to pick up a dead raccoon (trust me, if I had any say in the matter I would've let them keep it), but I have to slide this thing up the fence vertically because the wedge that has been created is not wide enough for the head to be pulled through horizontally. It was kind of like when you see a kid with his head stuck in a banister and he can't back out... except it was a dead raccoon head...
Eventually I did manage to successfully remove the raccoon and remained free from wasp stings.
Needless to say, it was disgusting.
However, I did have some help. With all the trouble I was having (the darn thing was really stuck in there) the homeowner asked if he could do anything and I suggested that he try to pull on the warped fence in attempts to to widen the gap as much as he could to at least remove some pressure. What I neglected to realize at the time was, as I finally managed to slide the raccoon up the fence I was dealing with the weighty lump of its body.... the homeowner, on the other hand, got to watch a dead raccoon head float up the edge of his fencing from the other side.
Oh goodness, I couldn't help but laugh. But he was a good sport about it. He thanked me incessantly, promised to fix the gap in the fence, and proclaimed a new appreciation for his paper-pushing desk job.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A Day For The Birds
Today was the day that I got a pet duck.
Generally speaking I pick up road kill, but I also do some other errands while seeing to injured birds and other small animals (the other day I got to help a baby bunny!)
This morning, for example, I delivered some young birds to a rehabilitation centre. You see, the Humane Society doesn't have the means to rehabilitate all animals. Cats, dogs, and other domestics are one thing, but wildlife and birds have pretty different needs. Anyway, throughout the area there are a number of people who are registered rehabilitators and are able to care for specific needs of different birds and wildlife. Bird Rehab Centre Supervisor --sounds like a fun job. I like to think that I bring them the celebrities with drug addictions of the bird world. Anyway, they were pretty cute... I mean, not all young birds are cute... sometimes they're downright ugly... but these guys were sweet and soooo tiny.
Then in the afternoon I get a call to an... interestingly scented apartment in, shall we say, a more sketchy part of town. There were no parents to be seen. Apparently the official story is that these teens "found a duckling". However, other bits and pieces of the story were overheard from background giggles about the poor bird's siege and capture. They had then put it in their bathtub all day.
Seriously... Yes, ducklings can swim. But all day? I hope they don't apply that logic to their own children, "Oh sure, Billy loves to swim... yea, I think he's been out there for about 6 hours now... maybe I should check on him..."
Anyway, so I get the duckling and bring him back to my van. Really, I'm just supposed to put him in the back and drive on, but he's adorable and shivering. I take him out of the container and he snuggles right up to me. Cutest little thing I've ever seen.
I bring him back to the shelter just in time for the end of my shift, but I stick around while the lovely ladies at the front desk call around to different duck rehabbers in town... but... they were all full.
So here's the less-than-ideal part of reality. Without proper rehabilitation options, the duckling is unable to survive. Ducks are not one of those adoptive animals (unlike geese), and so to release it around other duck families hoping for a happy ending... actually results in them turning on and attacking the "outsider" duckling. Also, wood ducks can be very difficult to rehabilitate even with professionals, and the average person doesn't really have the time, means, or ability to do it themselves. Thus ultimately, if left without proper care, the duckling would slowly suffer and die. Anyway, to avoid such a slow, painful and inevitable ending, it's actually more humane to euthanize the little guys. And so... without a rehabber in town, I was told that I'd have to say goodbye to my little duckling.
Confession: In the briefest flash I thought my eyes were going to tear up.
OBVIOUSLY I'd broken the rule of not getting attached.
So, while carrying the little guy around the shelter with me and making enquiries, after some time and with some help we were able to find a duck rehabber who was willing to take him.
The catch: this place was well out of town and I couldn't take him there as a Humane Society employee.
Thankfully, not only am I a Humane Society employee, but I am also a Person. And, as a Person, I was perfectly able to take Eddie on a little road trip. And so I punched my time card out and headed to my car, Eddie in tow.
And thus, for a few hours before taking him to the rehab place, I came to own a pet duck.
And I loved him.
I didn't get home until about 10pm, it turned out to be just over an hour trip there and back. Along the way with my sister, I glanced at the clock and then at Eddie snuggled in her arm.
"That's weird..."
"Hm?"
"...He would have been dead for two and a half hours now".
Generally speaking I pick up road kill, but I also do some other errands while seeing to injured birds and other small animals (the other day I got to help a baby bunny!)
This morning, for example, I delivered some young birds to a rehabilitation centre. You see, the Humane Society doesn't have the means to rehabilitate all animals. Cats, dogs, and other domestics are one thing, but wildlife and birds have pretty different needs. Anyway, throughout the area there are a number of people who are registered rehabilitators and are able to care for specific needs of different birds and wildlife. Bird Rehab Centre Supervisor --sounds like a fun job. I like to think that I bring them the celebrities with drug addictions of the bird world. Anyway, they were pretty cute... I mean, not all young birds are cute... sometimes they're downright ugly... but these guys were sweet and soooo tiny.
Then in the afternoon I get a call to an... interestingly scented apartment in, shall we say, a more sketchy part of town. There were no parents to be seen. Apparently the official story is that these teens "found a duckling". However, other bits and pieces of the story were overheard from background giggles about the poor bird's siege and capture. They had then put it in their bathtub all day.
Seriously... Yes, ducklings can swim. But all day? I hope they don't apply that logic to their own children, "Oh sure, Billy loves to swim... yea, I think he's been out there for about 6 hours now... maybe I should check on him..."
Anyway, so I get the duckling and bring him back to my van. Really, I'm just supposed to put him in the back and drive on, but he's adorable and shivering. I take him out of the container and he snuggles right up to me. Cutest little thing I've ever seen.
I bring him back to the shelter just in time for the end of my shift, but I stick around while the lovely ladies at the front desk call around to different duck rehabbers in town... but... they were all full.
So here's the less-than-ideal part of reality. Without proper rehabilitation options, the duckling is unable to survive. Ducks are not one of those adoptive animals (unlike geese), and so to release it around other duck families hoping for a happy ending... actually results in them turning on and attacking the "outsider" duckling. Also, wood ducks can be very difficult to rehabilitate even with professionals, and the average person doesn't really have the time, means, or ability to do it themselves. Thus ultimately, if left without proper care, the duckling would slowly suffer and die. Anyway, to avoid such a slow, painful and inevitable ending, it's actually more humane to euthanize the little guys. And so... without a rehabber in town, I was told that I'd have to say goodbye to my little duckling.
Confession: In the briefest flash I thought my eyes were going to tear up.
OBVIOUSLY I'd broken the rule of not getting attached.
So, while carrying the little guy around the shelter with me and making enquiries, after some time and with some help we were able to find a duck rehabber who was willing to take him.
The catch: this place was well out of town and I couldn't take him there as a Humane Society employee.
Thankfully, not only am I a Humane Society employee, but I am also a Person. And, as a Person, I was perfectly able to take Eddie on a little road trip. And so I punched my time card out and headed to my car, Eddie in tow.
And thus, for a few hours before taking him to the rehab place, I came to own a pet duck.
And I loved him.I didn't get home until about 10pm, it turned out to be just over an hour trip there and back. Along the way with my sister, I glanced at the clock and then at Eddie snuggled in her arm.
"That's weird..."
"Hm?"
"...He would have been dead for two and a half hours now".
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Perhaps I Should Have A Cape
In a violent world where innocent lives are smushed, splatted, and squashed, I, gallantly, have vowed to rid the world (...well... at least my general area within city limits) of the decaying aftermath largely caused by the villains of vehicular animal-slaughter. Armed with thick gloves, garbage bags, Man-Pants, and super-strength hand sanitizer, I head out, alone, to inspire hope for a cleaner, less smelly world.
Okay... so it's a bit of a stretch... maybe DC and Marvel won't be breaking down doors to add my character to either of their superhero universes... perhaps fine tuning is necessary before approaching them with an official pitch.
But seriously, I'm not really sure who people expect to show up when they call for someone to come pick up dead animals on their property, but most have seemed pretty surprised to find a me, a 22-year-old girl, in their yard to pick up dead things. (This, by the way, I take as a good sign--that I don't initially strike people as someone who picks up dead animals for a living.)
I show up, quick bag it as if picking up after one's dog, and then go on my way. Some, I believe, feel the need to justify the fact that they called someone else to do this simple yet dirty task for them. For example, today I got a call to retrieve a dead bunny in someone's backyard.
I arrive at the house and a fairly intimidating man opens the door. You know, the type of big guy you'd expect to see sitting in a snug-fitting black leather jacket on the back of a Harley. He shows me to the back yard flower beds (assumability his wife's) and, with an awkwardly sheepish and slightly embarrassed glance to the ground, he stands about two feet away from the animal and points saying "...I think it's a bunny..."
I smile and walk over to see a rabbit, completely intact (no missing bits or open wounds) and completely without any flies to deal with! (This, in case anyone needs clarifying, is considered an excellent find!)
"Oh yea, that's a dead bunny" I said as I quickly bagged it without slightest bit of trouble, tied off the bag and then stepped back from the garden. Seriously, it takes about 5 seconds to deal with something like that.
"So that's all there is to it then?"
"Yep!"
I think he felt the need to clarify as he quickly followed with...
"Yea so the bunn-- *cough* the rabbit was here and, ya'know, I would have just ...gotten it myself but... um, the garbage. I didn't want it to have to sit in the garbage until it was picked up and all."
"Oh no, don't worry about it. Not a problem at all, we'll take him away."
"Yea, thanks. I mean, as I said, I would have just gotten him myself but..." he gestures to the curb, "...the garbage"
"Yep, makes sense! It really wasn't a problem. I just really appreciate you calling us before the maggots set in!"
I mean really, how many people get to have these kinds of conversations?
Perhaps my special powers come from my Man-Pants. And thus a 22 year old girl, a freshly graduated elementary school teacher is able to surpass even the most manly of men in order to handle dead bunn- *ahem* rabbits.
I wonder what he would have thought about the time that it took two separate garbage bags to entirely clean up after a raccoon, or when I had to fold that maggoty raccoon in half... ugh, raccoons are just messy...
I think I should arrive with some sort of theme song playing from my van in the background. You know, to create a more dramatic entrance in order to enhance the awe inspiring mystique that surrounds my job.
Okay... so it's a bit of a stretch... maybe DC and Marvel won't be breaking down doors to add my character to either of their superhero universes... perhaps fine tuning is necessary before approaching them with an official pitch.
But seriously, I'm not really sure who people expect to show up when they call for someone to come pick up dead animals on their property, but most have seemed pretty surprised to find a me, a 22-year-old girl, in their yard to pick up dead things. (This, by the way, I take as a good sign--that I don't initially strike people as someone who picks up dead animals for a living.)
I show up, quick bag it as if picking up after one's dog, and then go on my way. Some, I believe, feel the need to justify the fact that they called someone else to do this simple yet dirty task for them. For example, today I got a call to retrieve a dead bunny in someone's backyard.
I arrive at the house and a fairly intimidating man opens the door. You know, the type of big guy you'd expect to see sitting in a snug-fitting black leather jacket on the back of a Harley. He shows me to the back yard flower beds (assumability his wife's) and, with an awkwardly sheepish and slightly embarrassed glance to the ground, he stands about two feet away from the animal and points saying "...I think it's a bunny..."
I smile and walk over to see a rabbit, completely intact (no missing bits or open wounds) and completely without any flies to deal with! (This, in case anyone needs clarifying, is considered an excellent find!)
"Oh yea, that's a dead bunny" I said as I quickly bagged it without slightest bit of trouble, tied off the bag and then stepped back from the garden. Seriously, it takes about 5 seconds to deal with something like that.
"So that's all there is to it then?"
"Yep!"
I think he felt the need to clarify as he quickly followed with...
"Yea so the bunn-- *cough* the rabbit was here and, ya'know, I would have just ...gotten it myself but... um, the garbage. I didn't want it to have to sit in the garbage until it was picked up and all."
"Oh no, don't worry about it. Not a problem at all, we'll take him away."
"Yea, thanks. I mean, as I said, I would have just gotten him myself but..." he gestures to the curb, "...the garbage"
"Yep, makes sense! It really wasn't a problem. I just really appreciate you calling us before the maggots set in!"
I mean really, how many people get to have these kinds of conversations?
Perhaps my special powers come from my Man-Pants. And thus a 22 year old girl, a freshly graduated elementary school teacher is able to surpass even the most manly of men in order to handle dead bunn- *ahem* rabbits.
I wonder what he would have thought about the time that it took two separate garbage bags to entirely clean up after a raccoon, or when I had to fold that maggoty raccoon in half... ugh, raccoons are just messy...
I think I should arrive with some sort of theme song playing from my van in the background. You know, to create a more dramatic entrance in order to enhance the awe inspiring mystique that surrounds my job.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Love
No ridiculous stories for today.Just my favourite brain damaged cat.
See?
Big blue eyes.
Told you so.
Big blue eyes.
Told you so.
p.s. um... don't expect too many picture postings...
There aren't really many opportunities for me to encounter cute animals...
...well, live ones anyway.
There aren't really many opportunities for me to encounter cute animals...
...well, live ones anyway.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Dear Sir,
To the older gentleman in the vehicle today,
Thank you, sir, but it is quite alright. I am already fully aware that my job is truly gross. Actually, I can promise you that I am so completely WAY more aware than you could possibly be of just HOW gross my job is.
That said, while I am bagging a dead ground hog and your car passes me, I do not need you to lean halfway out your car window and adamantly yell "EEWWWWWWWWWWWWWwww!!!!!!!!"
As I said. It's alright. I already know.
Yes, my job is gross.
Thank you, sir, but it is quite alright. I am already fully aware that my job is truly gross. Actually, I can promise you that I am so completely WAY more aware than you could possibly be of just HOW gross my job is.
That said, while I am bagging a dead ground hog and your car passes me, I do not need you to lean halfway out your car window and adamantly yell "EEWWWWWWWWWWWWWwww!!!!!!!!"
As I said. It's alright. I already know.
Yes, my job is gross.
Today's Lesson
Scenario: Two injured birds with broken legs confined to a box on an apartment balcony.
Plan: Go to apartment balcony, retrieve injured birds.
Reality: Alright, so really, apparently, "there are two injured birds with broken legs in a box on my balcony" actually means "I have two pigeons loose on my balcony".
So I get there and the two pigeons are frantically walking around. This, as I explain to her, is probably a sign that their legs are not, in fact, broken. Also, there is no box in sight.
I pick them each up and neither have any injuries that I can find. So I tell the lady that the birds are actually completely fine... yet she seems less than impressed.
"But they are pooping everywhere."
"Yep! Birds will do that."
"...So you're not going to do anything about the poop?"
"Sorry ma'am... no."
"But I called you here. I called you here and you're just going to leave the poop and everything?!"
"I... um... sorry ma'am, you cannot call the Humane Society to come to your apartment and clean up pigeon poop. That's not a part of what we do."
".... but... there's poop everywhere"
"Yes ma'am. But... it's not my responsibility to clean up your pigeon poop... sorry"
She was really quite unimpressed. But seriously... did this woman honestly think that the Humane Society would come to her house and clean up pigeon poop?!
Upon sharing this story with another officer, today's quote of the day was discovered:
"Well... you don't exactly have a classroom teaching job, but you're still teaching... one village idiot at a time..."
Plan: Go to apartment balcony, retrieve injured birds.
Reality: Alright, so really, apparently, "there are two injured birds with broken legs in a box on my balcony" actually means "I have two pigeons loose on my balcony".
So I get there and the two pigeons are frantically walking around. This, as I explain to her, is probably a sign that their legs are not, in fact, broken. Also, there is no box in sight.
I pick them each up and neither have any injuries that I can find. So I tell the lady that the birds are actually completely fine... yet she seems less than impressed.
"But they are pooping everywhere."
"Yep! Birds will do that."
"...So you're not going to do anything about the poop?"
"Sorry ma'am... no."
"But I called you here. I called you here and you're just going to leave the poop and everything?!"
"I... um... sorry ma'am, you cannot call the Humane Society to come to your apartment and clean up pigeon poop. That's not a part of what we do."
".... but... there's poop everywhere"
"Yes ma'am. But... it's not my responsibility to clean up your pigeon poop... sorry"
She was really quite unimpressed. But seriously... did this woman honestly think that the Humane Society would come to her house and clean up pigeon poop?!
Upon sharing this story with another officer, today's quote of the day was discovered:
"Well... you don't exactly have a classroom teaching job, but you're still teaching... one village idiot at a time..."
Friday, July 3, 2009
Well That Stinks
Today, for the first time in my life, I picked up a dead skunk.
Skunks, as I understand them, are not the type of animals that people generally get all that close to when they are alive, let alone when they're dead. Yet I, as it would appear, apparently do not fall in with the general population when it comes to dead animals.
Despite this being the first week that I've been working alone, another officer came to help me out with this particularly stinky situation. There is, you see, more of a technique involved when dealing with the skunks... and then also the corresponding wash-down ritual to be completed afterwards.
Despite the strong smell of skunk as I approached the critter, I was told that he was nothing. The skunk was still intact and his stink sack hadn't ruptured, so comparatively, he was probably the best skunk I'd get.
"If the level of stink intensity from this skunk were to be compared with eating wings, this would be just your starter... very mild"
Well, mild or not, I was still entirely sprayed down with some skunk-off stuff to help kill the smell.
My job makes me feel so glamorous and irresistibly attractive. ;)
Skunks, as I understand them, are not the type of animals that people generally get all that close to when they are alive, let alone when they're dead. Yet I, as it would appear, apparently do not fall in with the general population when it comes to dead animals.
Despite this being the first week that I've been working alone, another officer came to help me out with this particularly stinky situation. There is, you see, more of a technique involved when dealing with the skunks... and then also the corresponding wash-down ritual to be completed afterwards.
Despite the strong smell of skunk as I approached the critter, I was told that he was nothing. The skunk was still intact and his stink sack hadn't ruptured, so comparatively, he was probably the best skunk I'd get.
"If the level of stink intensity from this skunk were to be compared with eating wings, this would be just your starter... very mild"
Well, mild or not, I was still entirely sprayed down with some skunk-off stuff to help kill the smell.
My job makes me feel so glamorous and irresistibly attractive. ;)
Monday, June 29, 2009
And Now For Something Completely Different
So this week I've been working on my own and, on top of road kill, I also do drop-offs/pick-ups from vets and animal hospitals (yes, that's right, I pick up road kill and am also a gopher).
More than just for already dead things, sometimes there are also calls out for almost dead things. Actually, one of the other officers told me a story about when he went to pick up a fairly smushed groundhog --and it turned around and snapped at him.
Anyway, but last week an officer and I got called out to attend to an injured grey cat that was in some lady's back yard. When we got there she was sprawled out in a bush on her stomach, head swaying, pupils dilated, and entirely unable to stand. From what we could tell she'd sustained some sort of brain injury, she definitely had some neurological issues. But because she was only almost dead instead of actually dead, we put her into a carrier and off we went to the vet.
When we got there the vet told us that she was most likely too far gone, she couldn't even regain her balance to lift her head let alone sit or stand.
But today I got a pleasant surprise.
Rather than the usual death that I deal with, I show up to the vet clinic and there she was -the same grey cat we'd brought in last week and she was certainly very much alive.
Despite having told us that she'd most likely be put-down, apparently after we dropped her off the vet reached in to her cage and, although she was barely able to move, she slowly lifted her head ever so slightly and rubbed it against his hand.
--Well that was it, from then he had to save her.
And there she was in my carrier. Biggest blue eyes you've ever seen. Still loopy mind you, there is definitely some lasting brain damage there. But she's so cute with her bad balance and spaciness. Such a sweet cat -and I don't even really like cats all that much.
It was really neat. Everyone thought she was all but dead. She's still got another week of recovery ahead of her, but it was astonishing to see her now compared with when we pulled her out of the bushes.
I guess even lost causes can still surprise you no matter how far gone they seem.
More than just for already dead things, sometimes there are also calls out for almost dead things. Actually, one of the other officers told me a story about when he went to pick up a fairly smushed groundhog --and it turned around and snapped at him.
Anyway, but last week an officer and I got called out to attend to an injured grey cat that was in some lady's back yard. When we got there she was sprawled out in a bush on her stomach, head swaying, pupils dilated, and entirely unable to stand. From what we could tell she'd sustained some sort of brain injury, she definitely had some neurological issues. But because she was only almost dead instead of actually dead, we put her into a carrier and off we went to the vet.
When we got there the vet told us that she was most likely too far gone, she couldn't even regain her balance to lift her head let alone sit or stand.
But today I got a pleasant surprise.
Rather than the usual death that I deal with, I show up to the vet clinic and there she was -the same grey cat we'd brought in last week and she was certainly very much alive.
Despite having told us that she'd most likely be put-down, apparently after we dropped her off the vet reached in to her cage and, although she was barely able to move, she slowly lifted her head ever so slightly and rubbed it against his hand.
--Well that was it, from then he had to save her.
And there she was in my carrier. Biggest blue eyes you've ever seen. Still loopy mind you, there is definitely some lasting brain damage there. But she's so cute with her bad balance and spaciness. Such a sweet cat -and I don't even really like cats all that much.
It was really neat. Everyone thought she was all but dead. She's still got another week of recovery ahead of her, but it was astonishing to see her now compared with when we pulled her out of the bushes.
I guess even lost causes can still surprise you no matter how far gone they seem.
Friday, June 26, 2009
What Would Grissom Do?
Weirdest morning of my life.
We started the day in a graveyard... at a shallow grave... digging up a dead cat.
I don't even think I have words for this one. Most unnatural feeling ever.
I mean, at least they put it in a bag -but a clear garbage bag? C'mon... use some common sense people... things go mushy. Bad choice.
We started the day in a graveyard... at a shallow grave... digging up a dead cat.
I don't even think I have words for this one. Most unnatural feeling ever.
I mean, at least they put it in a bag -but a clear garbage bag? C'mon... use some common sense people... things go mushy. Bad choice.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Neck Bone's Connected To The...
FAQ: How do you know where all the dead animals are?
-Well, as they're not exactly able to call us up themselves, passer byers generally spot the animals, call or email the Humane Society, and then the lovely ladies at the front desk radio out to the officers, and then the officers attend to the calls.
I know I've mentioned that I worked at the Humane Society in the past, but you see, it was one of those relatively clean jobs where I didn't exactly have to 'get my hands dirty'. Anyway, when I started back again this summer, a lot of people seemed to be surprised that I'd gotten the position and didn't really expect me to stick around long. The women at the front desk are both hilarious and amazing, but they also have a particular fondness for giving me some really weird calls.
-Oh I've got a good one for you!
-Uh oh, what is it?
-Well, we're not exactly sure... but I can tell you that it won't have a head!
So off we go, looking for a mystery animal on X street with no head.
It's a busy street, so we park around the corner and just walk up the sidewalk. It isn't long until we see an animal sprawled out across the sidewalk about half a block up. Good news: it is a chipmunk.
Side note: Chipmunks are the best! They're small. Easy to bag without the gag, larger animals can be much more difficult and awkward.
Yet only until afterwards did I realize how abnormal it was to find myself walking down the sidewalk toward a dead animal thinking "Please don't have a head, please don't have a head, please don't have a head..."
It didn't.
Win. Mystery headless animal was just a chipmunk, no sweat.
Wrong.
When I get back to the Centre and share the good news with the ladies at the front desk they show me the actual email that they received. Apparently some woman was out rollerblading and came across a mostly decomposed 'large animal' and she thought she'd let us know about it. A fox, wolf, or dog by her guess. So she took the skull because she thought it might be of some value.
-Excuse me?
Yeah, that's right, she took the head home with her.
What I find interesting is that she was out rollerblading, found the head, and then had to rollerblade home carrying a head.
I hope she enjoys her "wolf skull" -aka. dead raccoon head.
But next time you feel like you're losing your head -don't! Trust me, I've seen what it looks like and it ain't pretty!
-Well, as they're not exactly able to call us up themselves, passer byers generally spot the animals, call or email the Humane Society, and then the lovely ladies at the front desk radio out to the officers, and then the officers attend to the calls.
I know I've mentioned that I worked at the Humane Society in the past, but you see, it was one of those relatively clean jobs where I didn't exactly have to 'get my hands dirty'. Anyway, when I started back again this summer, a lot of people seemed to be surprised that I'd gotten the position and didn't really expect me to stick around long. The women at the front desk are both hilarious and amazing, but they also have a particular fondness for giving me some really weird calls.
-Oh I've got a good one for you!
-Uh oh, what is it?
-Well, we're not exactly sure... but I can tell you that it won't have a head!
So off we go, looking for a mystery animal on X street with no head.
It's a busy street, so we park around the corner and just walk up the sidewalk. It isn't long until we see an animal sprawled out across the sidewalk about half a block up. Good news: it is a chipmunk.
Side note: Chipmunks are the best! They're small. Easy to bag without the gag, larger animals can be much more difficult and awkward.
Yet only until afterwards did I realize how abnormal it was to find myself walking down the sidewalk toward a dead animal thinking "Please don't have a head, please don't have a head, please don't have a head..."
It didn't.
Win. Mystery headless animal was just a chipmunk, no sweat.
Wrong.
When I get back to the Centre and share the good news with the ladies at the front desk they show me the actual email that they received. Apparently some woman was out rollerblading and came across a mostly decomposed 'large animal' and she thought she'd let us know about it. A fox, wolf, or dog by her guess. So she took the skull because she thought it might be of some value.
-Excuse me?
Yeah, that's right, she took the head home with her.
What I find interesting is that she was out rollerblading, found the head, and then had to rollerblade home carrying a head.
I hope she enjoys her "wolf skull" -aka. dead raccoon head.
But next time you feel like you're losing your head -don't! Trust me, I've seen what it looks like and it ain't pretty!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Just a Reminder
Life is busy. It's easy to get caught up in it. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, it's common to forget proper perspective on life. And thus, from time to time, it's important to remind ourselves of who we are and where we came from no matter where life takes us.
For example, I went to university for 5 years, and worked pretty darn hard while I was there, in order to get a job that would allow me to apply what I've learned and do something I enjoy. Makes sense right? However, pre-degree-me didn't really expect to be crawling around on a deck on my hands and knees looking for a decaying squirrel. We couldn't find it anywhere --it was supposed to be under a loose board but, as much as we looked, there was no sign of the squirrel. And so, I found myself having the following conversation with the officer I was working with:
-I can't see it anywhere.
-It's gotta be somewhere, you can smell the dead.
-Oh I know, and I can see maggots so it's definitely around.
-Ew...
-Wait, I think the maggots are the squirrel...
...and so, with long tongs, the officer I was with pulled out a squirrel-sized wriggling mass of slithering maggots (with a small tuff of fur poking out at the end). Nice eh?
Anyway, at the end of the day we were responding to a call about a squirrel that a woman found in her garbage can. We got to the house and saw a can with a note taped to it "Not for more garbage. Humane Society is coming for the dead squiral inside!"
So I open the lid to see a black squirrel, belly up, and maggots squirming from its middle. I took a breath and reached in, garbage bag over my gloved hand, and grabbed the smelly little critter as I winced, looked away, and exclaimed "I AM AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER!!"
This was, of course, just in time for the woman homeowner to come outside and hear me.
For example, I went to university for 5 years, and worked pretty darn hard while I was there, in order to get a job that would allow me to apply what I've learned and do something I enjoy. Makes sense right? However, pre-degree-me didn't really expect to be crawling around on a deck on my hands and knees looking for a decaying squirrel. We couldn't find it anywhere --it was supposed to be under a loose board but, as much as we looked, there was no sign of the squirrel. And so, I found myself having the following conversation with the officer I was working with:
-I can't see it anywhere.
-It's gotta be somewhere, you can smell the dead.
-Oh I know, and I can see maggots so it's definitely around.
-Ew...
-Wait, I think the maggots are the squirrel...
...and so, with long tongs, the officer I was with pulled out a squirrel-sized wriggling mass of slithering maggots (with a small tuff of fur poking out at the end). Nice eh?
Anyway, at the end of the day we were responding to a call about a squirrel that a woman found in her garbage can. We got to the house and saw a can with a note taped to it "Not for more garbage. Humane Society is coming for the dead squiral inside!"
So I open the lid to see a black squirrel, belly up, and maggots squirming from its middle. I took a breath and reached in, garbage bag over my gloved hand, and grabbed the smelly little critter as I winced, looked away, and exclaimed "I AM AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER!!"
This was, of course, just in time for the woman homeowner to come outside and hear me.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Oh Wait, There's More!
In reality, that's what the officer said to me after shovelling most of a maggoty, gut-wrenching, putridly smelly raccoon... or possum... (we couldn't really tell anymore at that point) into the garbage bag that I was holding out for him --but actually, more happened today that I thought I'd quickly sum up!
I saw the insides of a turtle!! --Franklin books lied to me. There were no miniature lamp stands, chesterfields, or pictures hanging on the walls. I don't think I can ever read those books the same way again.
My sister sent me a text message about a smushed bunny. --I was not impressed. That is not how the system is supposed to work, but I went and got it anyway. It was in multiple pieces. At first I thought about bringing it home for her, but I soon realized that it would only be amusing for the initial reaction and then we'd be stuck with a extremely dead rabbit in a garbage bag at our house.
A group of children helped me find a dead cat. --There was a call for a cat that'd died under a shed at a community centre, it had been dead at least a week I was told. We couldn't find it, but knew it was somewhere (ah, thank you smell). But soon after arriving a group of kids ran up (three of them, about 7/8 yrs old) who told us where it was, and then wanted to stay and watch. I told them they probably didn't want to see it but they insisted on staying anyway. Thankfully, this cat had been gone at least 6 months, meaning it wasn't maggoty or mushy anymore, but the kids' reaction was still hilariously adorable. To them, for those few brief moments, we were by far the coolest people in the world. Haha, I wish more people could look at the world in the same interesting way as they did when they were 8.
And finally...
I folded a maggot infested raccoon in half today in order to fit it into a garbage bag. --Yep. I think that one pretty much explains itself.
I saw the insides of a turtle!! --Franklin books lied to me. There were no miniature lamp stands, chesterfields, or pictures hanging on the walls. I don't think I can ever read those books the same way again.
My sister sent me a text message about a smushed bunny. --I was not impressed. That is not how the system is supposed to work, but I went and got it anyway. It was in multiple pieces. At first I thought about bringing it home for her, but I soon realized that it would only be amusing for the initial reaction and then we'd be stuck with a extremely dead rabbit in a garbage bag at our house.
A group of children helped me find a dead cat. --There was a call for a cat that'd died under a shed at a community centre, it had been dead at least a week I was told. We couldn't find it, but knew it was somewhere (ah, thank you smell). But soon after arriving a group of kids ran up (three of them, about 7/8 yrs old) who told us where it was, and then wanted to stay and watch. I told them they probably didn't want to see it but they insisted on staying anyway. Thankfully, this cat had been gone at least 6 months, meaning it wasn't maggoty or mushy anymore, but the kids' reaction was still hilariously adorable. To them, for those few brief moments, we were by far the coolest people in the world. Haha, I wish more people could look at the world in the same interesting way as they did when they were 8.
And finally...
I folded a maggot infested raccoon in half today in order to fit it into a garbage bag. --Yep. I think that one pretty much explains itself.
Cat + Pool = Fail
So we get a lot of calls for squished things, splatted things, mushed things, liquefied things, bloated things, intact things, dragged out things, melted things, etc --all of which, surprisingly, are quite unique.
But today I discovered another: waterlogged.
It's really not ideal. Some neighbourhood cat did not mix well with a family's pool. And to think, I used to think of dead as just dead.
Quote of the day:
"There are so many different forms of dead that one never really knew about"
But today I discovered another: waterlogged.
It's really not ideal. Some neighbourhood cat did not mix well with a family's pool. And to think, I used to think of dead as just dead.
Quote of the day:
"There are so many different forms of dead that one never really knew about"
Monday, June 22, 2009
Poor Puppy Parenting
Alright, so we got a call in about a dog locked in a car. Normally, that's not something that I'd be dealing with but, because I'm still training, the officer I'm working with needed to respond.
Apparently this young couple left their two puppies in the car while they went inside to buy little life jackets for their dogs... brilliant, I know. Let's go buy little life miniature jackets for our dogs because we just care so darn much about our pets --but how about we leave them in the car on this super-hot day so they've got a chance to die in the mean time.
For those who are curious:
Even in the shade, the interior of a car can be 10 to 20 degrees hotter than the temperature outdoors, and cracking the window open has almost no effect. A dog's normal body temp is about 39 degrees and, as most people know, dogs cools themselves by panting. But when a dog's surrounding temperature exceeds its body temperature cooling becomes incredibly difficult. Anyway, it can take less than 15 minutes for your dog's body temperature to rise above 41 degrees, risking brain damage and potentially death to your pet.
*cue star-swipe*
Now You Know...
Apparently this young couple left their two puppies in the car while they went inside to buy little life jackets for their dogs... brilliant, I know. Let's go buy little life miniature jackets for our dogs because we just care so darn much about our pets --but how about we leave them in the car on this super-hot day so they've got a chance to die in the mean time.
For those who are curious:
Even in the shade, the interior of a car can be 10 to 20 degrees hotter than the temperature outdoors, and cracking the window open has almost no effect. A dog's normal body temp is about 39 degrees and, as most people know, dogs cools themselves by panting. But when a dog's surrounding temperature exceeds its body temperature cooling becomes incredibly difficult. Anyway, it can take less than 15 minutes for your dog's body temperature to rise above 41 degrees, risking brain damage and potentially death to your pet.
*cue star-swipe*
Now You Know...
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thank Goodness It's Friday
Okay, I realize that I only started work on Wednesday, but that doesn't make me any less grateful that it's Friday. Three day work week sounds pretty good to me.
I met my nemesis today: the fly. Actually, I met lots of them.
I know people are bothered by maggots, but the flies are able to get near my face and that just freaks me out. Then again, I haven't really had to deal with the maggots... yet... oh goodness.
Anyway, after shooing away the flies I came to a bunny. For the record, there's a pretty effective technique to getting these critters cleaned up as fast as possible.
step 1: put on gloves (usually thick ones are the best choice... less feeling the death and all)
step 2: put hand in garbage bag
step 3: grab hold of animal
step 4: pull bag inside out over animal
step 5: tightly tie off the bag
It's kind of like picking up after one's dog... except with maggoty dead things instead of just poop. Poop doesn't sound so bad anymore eh?
Anyway, this seemed to go not too bad for the most part, until the back leg started to come off in my hand.
Yea... Thank goodness it's Friday.
Quote of the Day:
"When trying to flip the intestines into the bag, make sure that you aim the flipping away from your face"
--advice stemming from another officer's personal experience
I met my nemesis today: the fly. Actually, I met lots of them.
I know people are bothered by maggots, but the flies are able to get near my face and that just freaks me out. Then again, I haven't really had to deal with the maggots... yet... oh goodness.
Anyway, after shooing away the flies I came to a bunny. For the record, there's a pretty effective technique to getting these critters cleaned up as fast as possible.
step 1: put on gloves (usually thick ones are the best choice... less feeling the death and all)
step 2: put hand in garbage bag
step 3: grab hold of animal
step 4: pull bag inside out over animal
step 5: tightly tie off the bag
It's kind of like picking up after one's dog... except with maggoty dead things instead of just poop. Poop doesn't sound so bad anymore eh?
Anyway, this seemed to go not too bad for the most part, until the back leg started to come off in my hand.
Yea... Thank goodness it's Friday.
Quote of the Day:
"When trying to flip the intestines into the bag, make sure that you aim the flipping away from your face"
--advice stemming from another officer's personal experience
Thursday, June 18, 2009
My Man-Pants
Today I shopped for Man-Pants. They gave me a men's work shirt, but I still needed uniform pants and so during today's shift another officer took me shopping (paid for shopping = win). However, apparently it is ridiculously difficult to find women's work pants --and then when you finally are able to find them they're significantly more expensive. So, seeing as everyone's on a tight budget these days, I sucked it up and got some cheap Man-Pants from Wal-mart. At first I thought it'd be fine but I was wrong. I hate my Man-Pants. They are quite uncomfortable. Yet fortunately or unfortunately I have a sneaking suspicion that my job will supply me with larger concerns in order to distract me from the comfort level of my uniform.
For example, I touched my first two dead things today: a rabbit and a bird.
The rabbit was first... it was... open. And it was at my old elementary school; actually, it was on the corner where I used to be one of those crossing guard helpers. I felt like stopping in to show some of my old teachers my recent accomplishment, but oddly enough I hardly think that it would have improved my chances of getting hired on as a teacher there.
For example, I touched my first two dead things today: a rabbit and a bird.
The rabbit was first... it was... open. And it was at my old elementary school; actually, it was on the corner where I used to be one of those crossing guard helpers. I felt like stopping in to show some of my old teachers my recent accomplishment, but oddly enough I hardly think that it would have improved my chances of getting hired on as a teacher there.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Day 1
Well that was interesting.
So today was spent buying two sets of gloves for me (one thick leather for feeling less of what I'm touching, one waterproof for...well apparently things can get a bit juicy). After that I simply observed as the other officers did the dirty work. From what I can tell I will be incredibly grateful for the gloves we purchased today.
Key lesson of the day:
How to tie a bagged skunk outside of the vehicle so that it does not stink up the van.
But truth be told, the skunk didn't look or smell much like a skunk anymore. Instead it kind of looked like a dried up and very flat furry hat that had been run over about 500 times. The groundhog, on the other hand, was a bit of a different story.
I was told to just observe from the van, but the furry rump of the groundhog was closest me and even closer to the vehicle was its intestines and further in front of it I spotted a few organ bits.
A shovel was necessary.
Oh goodness, what've I gotten myself into...
So today was spent buying two sets of gloves for me (one thick leather for feeling less of what I'm touching, one waterproof for...well apparently things can get a bit juicy). After that I simply observed as the other officers did the dirty work. From what I can tell I will be incredibly grateful for the gloves we purchased today.
Key lesson of the day:
How to tie a bagged skunk outside of the vehicle so that it does not stink up the van.
But truth be told, the skunk didn't look or smell much like a skunk anymore. Instead it kind of looked like a dried up and very flat furry hat that had been run over about 500 times. The groundhog, on the other hand, was a bit of a different story.
I was told to just observe from the van, but the furry rump of the groundhog was closest me and even closer to the vehicle was its intestines and further in front of it I spotted a few organ bits.
A shovel was necessary.
Oh goodness, what've I gotten myself into...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
...Makes You Stronger
Alright, so I'm giving this blog-writing-thing an honest try. As a kid I tried to keep a diary and never managed to keep it up -but I have a feeling that I'm about to stumble across some stories that will virtually beg to be recorded and shared.
Today I received a phone call that has sent my summer in a very interesting direction. Yesterday I found out that I hadn't gotten a job I was extremely excited about and everyone kept reassuring me that 'something else would come up'. Oddly enough, today the phone rang with a call from one of my old bosses. You see, I used to work at the Humane Society and I was offered the chance to go back and pick up some hours over the summer, but I don't think that it was the 'something' that people had in mind.
"It's going to be messy..."
--uh oh...
"I don't know how you're going to feel about it..."
--I've got a pretty bad feeling about what you're about to say...
"But how about picking up some road kill for us?"
--Oh gosh.
So, after graduating university with high distinction for my Honours BA & BEd, what, might you ask, was my response to such a question?
First I laughed out loud --really, it couldn't be helped. Then I said,
"Well, I went to the bank yesterday and I had $5.24 in my account. So, what the heck, sure."
I start tomorrow at 9am.
Today I received a phone call that has sent my summer in a very interesting direction. Yesterday I found out that I hadn't gotten a job I was extremely excited about and everyone kept reassuring me that 'something else would come up'. Oddly enough, today the phone rang with a call from one of my old bosses. You see, I used to work at the Humane Society and I was offered the chance to go back and pick up some hours over the summer, but I don't think that it was the 'something' that people had in mind.
"It's going to be messy..."
--uh oh...
"I don't know how you're going to feel about it..."
--I've got a pretty bad feeling about what you're about to say...
"But how about picking up some road kill for us?"
--Oh gosh.
So, after graduating university with high distinction for my Honours BA & BEd, what, might you ask, was my response to such a question?
First I laughed out loud --really, it couldn't be helped. Then I said,
"Well, I went to the bank yesterday and I had $5.24 in my account. So, what the heck, sure."
I start tomorrow at 9am.
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