When I decided to foster a French Bulldog who was relinquished a few months shy of his 2nd birthday, I didn’t know how different my life would be. He was relinquished for a new onset of seizures in which he became fear-aggressive during his postictal phase. With 2 younger children in the household, I understand their concern and chose the best decision they could. While I thought I wasn’t ready for a seizure dog, I had no idea this would be the least of his worries AND problems. 

Fast forward a year, he was scheduled with the amazing surgery team at my hospital for his THIRD airway revision and a Tie-back surgery. He had already had a gastropexy for his sliding hiatal hernia at his 2nd revision due to lack of improvement from his 1st BOAS surgery. Unfortunately, he developed severe gastric ileus and was continuously regurgitating. This only made his post op upper airway swelling worse. He needed to be anesthetized so we could decompress his stomach, as he was non-compliant with placement of an NG tube. Of course, being an ICU technician and a VTS (ECC), I decided that I would be his anesthetist. 

While we were working on decompressing his stomach, he was noted to be having a significant vagal response. He was non-atropine responsive. While this was going on, I noticed that he was cyanotic. Shortly after, he went into cardiopulmonary arrest. We initiated CPR based on the RECOVER initiative guidelines. We were successful after 2 rounds of BLS! Long story short, he later failed his extubation trial, wasn’t a fan of TIVA, had a temp trach placed, woke up blind and deaf, and was hospitalized for 8 days. 

During this time, I was able to support him and his care by using some of his treatment plan as learning and development opportunities for his ICU care team. This care has helped them care for others with similar treatment plans. He was discharged on the anniversary of my brother’s celebration of life. As a side note, I was certified as a RECOVER BLS/ALS Instructor the year prior. 

Fast forward, he is now part of my DVM outreach CE focused on CPR as a CPA survivor and attestation that the guidelines and training do work. This boy almost didn’t see his 3rd birthday. Because of the dedication of my amazing co-workers, my love of this little boy, my resiliency to follow through on my promise of giving him the best life and outcome possible, and him getting the memo that he is a Frenchie, we got to celebrate his 6th birthday in March of this year. You would never know all the things he went through, and I wouldn’t change a thing! OK, maybe a little less sass, but he has changed my life for the better!

Many years ago, before I got my credentials, I worked as a kennel manager/vet assistant at an animal hospital/boarding facility where I had a patient named Rock. He was a big teddy bear of a Rottweiler that stayed at the clinic’s boarding facility every couple of months when his owner had to travel for work. He was hand-signal trained, and he knew the location of every single treat jar in the entire hospital. Every time he went outside, Rock insisted on getting a treat after coming back in. 

One morning, when I took him out for a walk, I noticed that he hadn’t finished his breakfast yet, which was odd because Rock lived for food. I brought him back in and asked for a few tricks before tossing him a treat. Rock caught it, but didn’t eat it, so I immediately went to the practice owner.

Me: Hey Doc, there’s something wrong with Rock. He didn’t finish his breakfast, and he didn’t eat his treat.
Doc: Huh. Anything else?
Me: No, but you know Rock lives for food. He would never not eat his treat unless there was something wrong with him.
Doc: Well, give his owner a call and see if he’ll OK some diagnostics.

I called the owner and explained my concerns.

Owner: Well, you know him about as well as I do. If you think there’s something going on, then do whatever tests you think are necessary.

We ran blood work, took some rads, and even got our radiologist to come in and do an ultrasound. Long story short, Rock had a massive bleeding mass on his spleen, and we got him into surgery an hour later for a splenectomy. Afterward, Doc told me that he was certain the mass would have likely ruptured overnight, and we would have come in in the morning to find that Rock was no longer with us. Thankfully, the mass was benign, and Rock lived many more years.

And I will always be grateful for a DVM who listened to the 20-something-year-old kennel manager/vet assistant who, at the time, knew basically nothing about anything except that an otherwise healthy-appearing patient had a very minor behavior change.

In the next few days, I will assist in the euthanasia of a beautiful 3-year-old Doberman named Charley. In the past 6 weeks, I have been there for the family when two of their older dogs, Ringo and Paxx, were euthanized due to other senior health issues. All of these dogs were working dogs and everything you would ever want to see in this breed. The findings on this one last night of renal cancer have totally taken me down. 

I have worked in vet medicine since I was 12 years old and will be 69 this month. I can hardly write these words, feeling the pain I do for this family, but as a vet nurse, I feel it is one of the most important tasks we do to be with these families as they say goodbye to these pets, whatever species they are. Many people do not get the support of others because it is “just a dog”; they are expected to move on, but as vet professionals, we know, professionally and personally, this is not the case. I thank God for the blessings this profession has given me in my long career and pray for a few more years to support the families it has brought into my life, even in the toughest moments.

One moment that has always stayed with me involved a critically ill neonatal kitten that came in through the ER. While the rest of my team focused on stabilization, I recognized that the owner was just as much in crisis as the patient. I took the time to explain every intervention, answer questions, and sit with the owner to reassure them that we were doing everything we could. 

The owner shared that they felt supported, and that compassion made an incredibly difficult experience more bearable. She gave me a hug and told me that the last time that she was at an ER, she felt that vet med was cold and scary; this made a difference. While patients do give me light for what I do, I find that those positive interactions with owners keep me going for a long time after those interactions.

Working in emergency veterinary medicine, I don’t always have an easy shift. I take the weight of sad outcomes home with me most days. One particular case that will always stick with me is one that pushed me to provide compassionate care above and beyond what I give on a daily basis. 

My overnight doctor had a client who could not afford parvovirus treatment for an extremely sick 12-week-old puppy. This client signed their puppy over to the hospital with the hope that a rescue or individual would step up to take over care and give this puppy the chance it deserved. The night shift team worked tirelessly to find placement for this puppy but did not succeed in this task. When I came on shift at 8 am, I was told that the puppy would have to be euthanized if we could not find placement, as it was extremely ill and needed care immediately. 

For my 12-hour shift, I called every rescue, shelter, and person I could think of that may be able to help this puppy. At the end of my shift, I finally received a “yes” from a rescue to take on this puppy. I was able to unite this sick puppy with the medical director for the rescue before the end of my shift. Throughout the puppy’s treatment, I was given updates on its progress. 

Just a few weeks ago, I was given news that the puppy had been adopted after surviving parvovirus. The rescue gave me credit for saving this dog’s life, but I cannot accept full responsibility. My entire hospital felt a need to help this puppy and give it the chance it deserved at life. Situations like this remind me of why I became a technician in the first place. My passion and love for helping those who have no voice will always be present and can only grow stronger with time.