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4 Learning to Euthanize Death and the Novice Veterinarian S imilar to any novice to an unknown subculture, I entered the daily lives of veterinarians with only anticipations of what I might experience and how I might think, feel, and behave. First and foremost, I had to adjust to sights and smells that initially made me woozy. during the early stages of my fieldwork, I found it especially difficult to hide my physical discomfort with nauseating puss-filled wounds and the body storage and cremation areas. However, after a few solid weeks of transporting dead animals’ remains, I became so accustomed to them that I could easily eat food in the same room with them. Moreover, the previously overwhelming sights and smells no longer fazed me as I became caught up in the drama of medical mysteries, and I began to watch in curious amazement as the veterinarians around me dealt with the various colors and textures seeping from open wounds. Given that I had never spent much time in the backrooms of a busy animal hospital, I had to get used to the flurry of activity and commotion. When it came to interacting with animal patients, I quickly learned of the potential hazards and how to avoid dangerous mishaps. I learned my first lesson when a young, approximately seventy-pound Alaskan malamute lunged at me while the veterinarian tested his reflexes. Luckily, it was only a warning to back off; however, his angry growl and serious intent to perhaps eat my face off did make me question my commitment to the research. In any event, I grew quite comfortable around patients, even those who were not altogether pleased by their trip to see the veterinarian. Over time, I adjusted to the hustle and Learning to Euthanize 107 bustle of a busy emergency hospital and began to gather information that both confirmed and challenged my initial beliefs. In the beginning many of my expectations about the job were challenged . For example, I was amazed by the number of stressed-out clients who brought healthy animals to the hospital during emergency hours for minor or imagined conditions. At the same time, other, dispassionate clients, either unconcerned about the severity of their animal’s condition or unaware of it, brought them to the hospital days or weeks too late. Many pets were killed because owners were ignorant of the animal’s basic needs, preventive medicine , or proper care. Some simply did not understand the time and financial commitment that comes with owning a pet. As an academic interested in human-animal relationships, I was well-read on the ambiguous and contradictory attitudes of people toward nonhuman animals; however, I was often taken aback by the reality. Some people generously paid for the medical care of injured wildlife or stray animals found in their neighborhood, while other people tried to poison their neighbors’ animals for trespassing onto their property. One case I will not soon forget involved an elderly man who, while out walking his dog, was pushed to the ground while a stranger nearly kicked his dog to death. Another client wanted to euthanize her cat because she had family members coming into town who were allergic to cats. She said she was not much of an animal person and the cat whined too much anyway. At the same time, I could tell that many participants took pleasure in their work, in part because they enjoyed being around animals and often had strong bonds with their own companion animals. As a novice to the world of veterinarians, my initial expectations about how I might feel were seriously tested. First, I have been told I am much more of a rational person than an especially sensitive one—meaning I am not a stone, but my heartstrings are rarely pulled, so to speak. Although I anticipated seeing animal suffering and watching bereaved clients, I quickly realized that imagining those situations was an entirely different matter to seeing them for myself. My first lesson came in the form of an Irish wolfhound named Murphy brought into the hospital in the wee hours of the morning following Thanksgiving day. While the family enjoyed their post-turkey naps and television, Murphy snuck into the kitchen to finish off the leftovers on the table. I learned that the stomach of large-breed dogs like Murphy who eat and drink a lot and then roll around playing can twist around itself— potentially a life-threatening situation. It was now...

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