In Another Life

"How is he doing?" the doctor asked from the adjacent room, peering over to where I was leaning against the steel table holding a golden retriever's paw out as a drip line ran through its vein.

I looked at the sleeping dog and clicked my tongue at it to see if it was still responding. He opened his eyes a little, lifted his head slightly to look at me then slumped back down heavily on the consultation table. "Better, but only slightly."

"Check his gums," the doctor instructed.

I lifted the flap of skin hanging over the dog's mouth up to reveal its fleshy gums and pearly white fangs underneath. "Moist. Pink," I called over.

"Capillary refill?"

"Still slow."

"Then leave the drip on for at least another half hour."

I drew a deep breath and shuffled my feet a little to get the blood flowing to my legs. I had been standing for almost an hour now and it was going to be a long day ahead. The doctor was in the next room with another dog also on drips, the sliding glass doors connecting the two rooms open so he could monitor both his patients at the same time. The dog on the table in front of me was a poisoning case whose owners had carelessly let to consume some highly toxic flea medication till it could hardly stand up.

It'll survive, I told myself wearily. I've seen worse and this one is making a very steady recovery. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples with my free hand to get rid of the overwhelming wave of tiredness washing over me.

You'll survive.

***

"Doktor ada?" asked the scruffy looking Chinese man as he walked into the clinic later that same day, carrying a cardboard box in his hands. The golden retriever was already stable and resting itself to a full recovery in the boarding cages in the back room. I heard the gut-wrenching cries of pain coming from the box, caught a glimpse of trashing black fur inside and felt sick to my stomach. I saw that it was just a puppy, barely two months old, and it was tossing and throwing itself around violently inside its carrier in a fit of distress. My heart sank lower.

"Ada. Ini apa problem?" I asked, nodding towards the screaming box.

"Manyak sakit lo. Saya bawak klinik semua tempat doktor cakap tak boleh buat apa. Sekarang saya mau kasi inject bagi dia jalan."

I felt a lump form in my throat at those words, especially at how emotionlessly he said them. "Sekejap ah, saya tanya doktor dulu."

I left the reception area and poked my head around to the doctor's room. "Doc, there's an euthanasia case here. Shall I let him in?"

The doctor looked up from his work at the computer and said "Yeah, sure. Get his details first."

As I made my way back to the front desk, asked for the man's IC and jotted down his particulars, the constant yelping that filled the waiting area tore at my heart like open wounds, forcing me to take slow, deep breaths to calm myself so I could hold the pen and write steady. One thing which I have never gotten used to and don't think I ever will is the sound of an animal in agony. It's the most torturous sound in the world and it can rip you up inside.

As I let the man inside to bring his puppy in to see the doc, my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help but to follow behind him to see exactly what the problem was. The poor pup was in such a terrible state that the doctor had to put on two pairs of gloves just to touch it. It was weeping and oozing out of every cavity in its body and its limbs were constantly flailing like some ragdoll in an epileptic seizure. It was obvious that its nervous system was completely damaged and that constant screaming made me light headed.

The doctor diagnosed the pup with some kind of brain parasite and put it to sleep. What's harder than crying it out is having to hold it in, put on a brave face and act like this is all part of the job having to work as an assistant in a vet clinic.

How can God be so unfair sometimes, making an innocent little puppy that is not even a couple of months old and has yet to lead the fulfilling life it deserves suffer like that?

Maybe I underestimated the mental and emotional strength needed for this job.