Sunday, August 29, 2010

More Ass Clowns

Some ass clown rear ended my kid today. In the Starbucks drive through for crap's sake. Kid was just handed the drink. Ass Clown decides kid is done and hits the gas.
Kid is okay, truck is unhurt. AC's Beemer doesn't fare as well, hood is buckled, radiator is pierced. What makes this jerkoff a true ass clown is that not only does he hit someone in a drive through, he proceeds to scream at the kid, like the kid is at fault.
Police are called and info is exchanged. Manager of Starbucks (good on you Starbucks) is perfectly happy to turn over the videotape of the whole event. So Ass Clown can't blame the kid for what he did.
Seriously, WTF is wrong with people? Can you REALLY not wait another 15-30 seconds for your caffeine fix?
That's one expensive cup of coffee for the Ass Clown in the Beemer. Maybe the world is lucky and this nimrod can't reproduce. And hopefully he doesn't have any pets.
And is there anyone who drives a Prius that knows the rules of the road? 90% of the cars that cut me off and make me slam on my brakes are Prius. One of these days I'm not going to hit the brakes and give 'em a Chevy enema. A little of the Heartbeat of America up your ass might knock the stick out and make you realize you've got a fugly ass car and can't drive worth a shit.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Of Bully Sticks and Oblivion

Several years ago, one of the hub's friends decided to be a dog food dealer. He was a skinny little shit, who hated fat chicks (me) and anyone who questions what he thinks he's an authority on (again, me).
Unfortunately, I'm the one who chooses the dog food, so he has to deal with me. I'm not an authority on ingredients, I know just enough to be annoying, which is still way more than he knows. So while he's trying to push me into buying a certain brand because he uses it and it's good because his dogs are shiny, I'm questioning ingredients, protein percentages, carbs, etc.
One day he comes by with a baggie he's made up of dog treats he's trying to sell me. He's already fed some to my dogs (which pisses me off as I don't want my dogs to start acting like him). These "treats" have an odd shape and a nasty smell. I insist on seeing the original package they came in, so I follow him out to his car.
The package is labeled Bully Sticks. Ingredients: 100% percent steer pizzle
"Uh, these things are weiners"
(Turns and speaks to my kid) "Your mom's crazy, these are dog treats."
"They may be dog treats, but what part of the steer do you think the pizzle comes from?"
I see his face redden at the realization that the fat chick may be right.
"So do you want them or not"
"No, there's something creepy about feeding an animal's dork to my dogs"

He stomps off and decides to do all his subsequent transactions with the hubster. Eventually he disappears from our lives as it's hard to stay in business when the proceeds go up your nose.Or maybe it's because after that day everyone who knew him quit calling him by his first name and referred to him as Steer Pizzle.

Some Background on where I work

I should mention that Boss Man is a male who would be the target of womens right's groups anywhere. Most women who've met him agree that if he were the last man on earth, they'd take a vow of abstinence.
The other women employed there are my children's ages. They are great girls and I really enjoy working with them, although there are days that I feel every year of the generation gap. Two door down in our complex is a house of prostitution, thinly disguised as a skin care center. I don't get to meet too many of the people from the other businesses since nobody wants to deal with Boss Man, but the ones I've met seem very nice, although they tell me nobody lasts a year there.
The complex has been there for over 30 years, in what once was a nice area. Tough economic times have depressed it a bit. The few other business owners I've met tell me that late at night there's quite a bit of activity in the parking lot, mostly hookers turning tricks. There's also a convenience store that's been robbed a few times. We have our share of homeless people and a panhandler or two. 
I've been told that there is a man who lives in his car that the landlord lets park in the lot in exchange for "keeping an eye on the place." He's the guy who was showering in the spigot this morning.
I also think the guy who waxes our floors lives in the office over the weekend.

Another Saturday Shot Clinic

If you're still with me, you've read about Thursday and Friday and understand the frame of mind I was in today.

The first thing I see when I park my car is a man washing his hair in water from the spigot by the parking lot. We exchange good mornings as I go in. I get prepared for the day as Saturdays are busy, and we have 2 employees working.
Boss Man comes in and first thing he says to me is "You didn't bill the charity for the spay yesterday" I ask him when the hell I was supposed to have time, when he left me with a room full of clients to go to lunch when we were so busy. He proceeds to reach over me and write his name on his water bottle, so everyone knows that one is his. I say "good, now I know which one to spit in."
Today I work with a girl who works relief for us, standing in when there's not enough coverage. She's the youngest of the bunch, friendly and nice and just fun to work with. She's always loved working there, and for a long time wanted nothing more than to be hired. But even she's had enough and told me today that she's "so over ever wanting to work here".
Busy, but not really any ass clowns today. A good thing, since had I strangled Boss Man, there would have been too many witnesses. 

The last few days.....Arghhhh

The last few days have been rough. I've mentioned before that economic necessity has only one employee per shift, which is usually sufficient unless we get busy. One of the girls has been on vacation, so the other and I have been covering her hours. I usually work the morning/opening shift, but the other girl asked that I close a few times just to switch things up and I agreed. 
I should mention that the temps have reached the triple digits. And in keeping with the usual luck, the air conditioner decided to die. So Thursday, my closing shift, the outdoor temps are 112, the office is 90. I'm a middle aged fat chick as it is, and I'm sweating so much my bra is wringing wet. Boss man comes in from lunch and is moaning that it's hot and he doesn't feel well. He holes up in the surgery room with his ass plastered up against the only working fan we have. Clients are few as nobody goes out in heat like that unless they have to, and it's the longest shift in the world.
Friday morning I open, and we are busy. Thankfully someone has mickeyed the a/c enough to give us some cool air. Except my boss is in a bad mood, going from being an ass to a true bastard and I'm in no mood to tolerate it.
We are busy enough to keep me on my toes with no paperwork. Someone comes in whose dog died the night before, he wants to arrange cremation with return of the ashes. This is a huge dog, who died in the hot weather. There is no way I can lift the dog to put it in the freezer, so I have him leave the dog inside the back door. I tag the body and call the cemetery. They agree to come right away (having stopped by the day before and knowing how hot it is).
Next client is a mange dip. The bathtub is in the back. Where the stinky dead dog is. I fly back there to cover the dog with a blanket so I can get the clients with their dog and do the mange dip. Mange dips take a ton of time, as you have to make sure the animal is thoroughly saturated with the solution. You can't towel or pat them dry, they have to air dry. I hand the dog back to the clients and go up to the front.
The waiting room is full of people and my boss' car is gone. He walked past the waiting room full of people, never said anything to them or me, and went to lunch. I get the people taken care of (buying food and refilling medicine). Then the cemetery guy comes in for the dog. The client had prepaid. Except there is no money in the drawer, nor is there a business check left for them. So I call Boss Man's cell, and he doesn't seem to get it. The last thing I want to do is leave that dog back there any longer, so I offer to write a personal check, but I need to be reimbursed immediately as I don't have the funds. Boss Man snaps "I'm eating my lunch!" and hangs up on me. I write the check, and help the cemetery guy with the dog, apologizing the whole time for the condition of the body. He leaves, and ten minutes later Boss Man flies in, writes a business check to me, throws it at me, and leaves.
If the economy didn't suck and I didn't have bills to pay and hub's business wasn't tanking, I would have thrown my key on the counter and walked out forever. If wishes came true, I'd be taller, thinner, prettier, and not have to buy my couture at Wal Mart.

Friday, August 20, 2010

On Horses

I was recently asked if my blog was going to deal with the subject of horses. I love horses, and am a horse owner. My horses, with the exception of one have been the ones that other people throw away because they can't deal with their issues. They end up with me, and I put a great deal of time, energy and money into fixing them. They have a forever home as long as I can feed and take care of them. However, my heart is heavy right now for the following reasons:

I had to put the toughest rehab I've ever dealt with to sleep 3 years ago, when she was 24. Not a fun horse to ride, but I knew every muscle movement and every twitch of her ears. A few months later I was chosen by a gelding at an auction and he came home with me. My intention was to learn team penning and use him for trail rides and team penning.
My riding buddy, a cowboy, gentleman, and the greatest horseman I have ever had the experience of knowing, succumbed to cancer 2 years ago. He helped me get the gelding at auction (a huge source of pride for him) and he was going to be my team penning buddy. May he always ride good horses.
My riding instructor, who was helping me overcome some fears from a riding accident and give me back my love of riding, moved out of the area, and I haven't found someone else to work with. I've been doing things on my own for years, but I've always needed the motivation and feedback from someone else, pushing me to do things I'm capable of but my mind won't let me.
I had a lovely dressage schoolmaster. He was a lovely dressage horse although I'm not a lovely or talented dressage rider. I had to put him to sleep a few months ago. He foundered and his coffin bone rotated badly, to the point where euthanasia was the only humane choice. He was the ride of my life, and with him gone, my heart is not into riding right now.
The gelding who my friend helped me get still owns me. I discovered his training had so many holes the best choice was to restart him from the ground up. It's going well, but with losing my beloved schoolmaster, the desire to get on and ride him isn't there. I know it will come back, I just need to let my heart heal a bit.

Freaky Friday

Thursday was dead at the office, with the vet leaving early to attend some meetings. Today brought in a bunch of clients. Some were my long time favorites and some who will soon be favorites. I'm hoping today set the tone for Saturday and the fabulous come in. Shot clinics bring out the best and worst of everyone.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

The Ass Clowns are everywhere!

"You're charging me for an exam?! I just wanted someone to look at my dog and tell me what is wrong with it!"
"That's what an exam is, sir"
"I can't believe you'd charge me for it. I'm going somewhere else!"

"I talked to you last night at 9 o'clock and made the appointment for surgery. Don't you remember anything?"
  Yes, I know where I was at nine last night, and it wasn't here. We were closed for several hours by then.

"I can't believe you charge XX amount for (pick a service or product)! Doctor Y (or the local pet store) only charges (something way cheaper and mathematically impossible)" (these phone calls are invariably long while the caller tries to negotiate).
"So you won't be making an appointment with us then. Have a nice day."

"My dog is old and crippled and I have a hard time getting her in the car. But the law says she has to have a rabies shot."
"Doctor will be happy to give your dog the shot in the car so you don't have to bring her in"
"But you don't get it, I can't get her in the car"
"Doctor can make a house call for the cost of $X plus the cost of the rabies shot"
" I'd rather just pay the penalties for not licensing the dog than pay that!"
Okay, your choice.
"The guy at city hall said I just had to show the piece of paper, that I don't have to have the shot put in the dog"
Sure, he did. I knew what she was getting at in the beginning of this long phone call, I just wasn't going to make it easy for her.
" So why can't I just pay for the rabies shot and you give me the certificate without the vet putting the shot in my dog?"
"Ma'am, that's illegal, and we don't do that."

"I was in there a couple of years ago and I got my dog a rabies shot. I was only given a certificate for one year"
"You stated that it was your dog's first rabies shot and by law, the first rabies shot is only good for one year no matter what the age of the dog is. After the first shot, the rabies certificates are good for 3 years."
" I was wrong, it wasn't my dog's first rabies shot. Can I get a 3 year certificate for my dog?"
"I'm sorry, you can't. It could have been fixed had you noticed the error within a few days, but not a few years later.  "

A young couple bring in their dog, who has the worst case of hives I've ever seen. There were hives on top of hives and the dog was so swollen you couldn't recognize what breed it was. They were horribly infected. This required a lot of treatment, a bunch of medicines to go home and a large vet bill. The woman calls me a couple of days later. The hives are better, and now she's rethinking the cost of treatment:
"I read on the internet that the kind of antibiotics you sent home with us can kill my dog, there are thousands of dogs dying from this kind of antibiotic"
"Ma'am, that antibiotic is the most commonly prescribed antibiotic in the country. As we speak there are several million animals and even more babies and toddlers safely taking this antibiotic. We'll be happy to recheck the dog and prescribe something different for the infection."
"Well to hell with you then!"

" I had my cat there 10 years ago and now he has the same symptoms. Can I just come get the medicine"
"I'm sorry ma'am, we can't prescribe medicine to patients we haven't seen in over a year. Can I make you an appointment so we can see your cat?"
"It's my cat and I know what's wrong with it, I just need the medicine! You're just out to make money off me!"
You obviously haven't been in our ghetto-ass office in awhile then. 

We quote spay and neuter prices over the phone, with the caveat that the prices may vary depending on certain conditions. When the pet comes in for surgery we weigh the pet in front of the client, then assess the pet, and give the actual cost of the surgery. 
 "This is way more than I was quoted over the phone!"
"You didn't tell us your dog only had one testicle"
"You didn't tell us your cat is pregnant"
"You told us your pet's shot were current and it hasn't been vaccinated in many years"
"You told us on the phone that your dog was only 40 pounds and as you can see she's over 100 lbs AND morbidly obese, so it's going to be a much longer and more complicated surgery"

"It smells like dog in here!"
It's a vet's office, imagine that!

"That woman's dog just took a shit on the floor! It stinks."
And yes, we are a vet's office. Animals come in here. They shit. Shit stinks. Are you new?     

 " My wife's in the hospital and I'd like to buy her some flowers. I don't have any money. Can you give me some money?"
I'm a middle aged woman in a minimum wage job. Does it look like I have any fucking money? 

Tail's Tales

Some dog breeds have short tails, and no, they're not born that way. They are born with a normal sized tail which is docked (cut, amputated, however you like to look at it) within days of birth. The amount that is left is dictated by the breed standards. It's quick, bloodless and done without anesthesia and a minimum of discomfort to the puppy.
Tail docking can also be done when the dog is older, but this requires anesthesia, surgery, antibiotics and pain medicine.
Some people who don't take their puppies to the vet do home jobs on their puppies. This involves placing a tight band at the section of the joint where they want the tail to end. It takes time for the tissue to die and the tail to fall off. The older the dog, the more pain is involved, and the smell is horrible. We've fixed our share of these home jobs gone wrong.
I was working a rare closing shift when a couple came in with an older puppy that had a home job done on its tail. Whoever did it had banded the tail in sections, and all but one section had fallen off. It was hanging precariously.
Further questioning of this couple determined that the man had found the puppy and its mother in the parking lot at work. They'd never had any kind of pet before, were financially strained, but wanted to help the puppy as best they could.
The boss sees the puppy, surgical amputation is nixed because of the cost, and the couple opt for antibiotics and washing the tail and applying antibiotic ointment. The boss gives an antibiotic shot and I'm directed to show them how to clean the tail and apply the ointment.
So the husband holds the puppy with the tail over the sink. I squirt some scrub on the tail, and begin to gently wash the tail.
The tail fell off. IT. FELL. THE. FUCK. OFF. In the sink.
The husband was horrified, the wife turns white and leaves the room. I yell for the boss, who as usual is done with them and on to the next thing. He tells me to continue with cleaning the tail. Fortunately, there is no blood and other than a little raw spot which will heal quickly, what's left looks like healthy tissue and the puppy will be fine. I gently finish and the couple leave with their new dog. I wish them well, their good deed is going to get expensive.

My Boss

Give him a foreign accent, and this is him to a tee:

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Right Dog, Wrong Owner

I have some clients who are mother and daughter who live together. These ladies are well past middle age, and while they seem to be physically in decent health, they are definitely past dealing with a high energy puppy. So they bring in an older lab puppy, buy the puppy care package, and also have her spayed. Now the daughter is a bit of a pain in my ass, with all of her endless microscopic detailed questions, but they are good pet parents.
They stopped in a few days ago, with their new dog, a German Shepherd puppy. They told me they rehomed the lab because they couldn't handle her behavior. I see the same future for this puppy. These are not bad people, in fact I'd give them a personal reference as owners in a heartbeat.
These ladies, like many pet owners, need to give some serious thought to what they want in a dog before they get high on puppy breath and make wrong choices. Pets are a commitment, and with a commitment comes responsibilities. Pets are supposed to be happy, why commit to several years of hell with a bad choice? The kill shelters are full of dogs that were cute puppies once. Then the behavior typical of their breed or breeds came out, and the owner was in too deep and decided to dispose of the problem.
The potential dog owner needs to make lists of what they definitely want, don't want, which things are negotiable and which are not before even researching a breed or visiting a shelter. Surf the net, and contact breed-specific rescues before narrowing down the choices. There's a lot to consider and a ton of information to absorb before bringing Fido home. Since there's so many websites dedicated to choosing a dog, I won't elaborate here.
It's hard not to want to bring home every puppy you see. That's why we need to get our heads involved before making choices.