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This story could also be called “How I Almost Fucked Up Big Time But Managed To Make A Happy Ending,” but that seemed way too long. However, it would be accurate. Except for the part about making a happy ending, since I really had nothing to do with it except praying fervently in the laundry room for everything to turn out okay so I wouldn’t get fired. One of our clients, we’ll call him Mr. G, came in with a puppy that he had found a few hours ago. Since he had no history on this dog, he took it to a nearby vet clinic and had it scanned for a microchip. There was no chip and so he brought the pup to us for a full checkup, since he likes us and we are awesome. I caught the appointment since it was a walk in and I wasn’t doing much of anything anyway, just scrubbing the kennels after a messy bath. To his credit, Mr. G is a great owner. You run across these more often than not in my business, but as you will discover a bit later in this tale, there are some real jerks out there who should NOT own pets, much less have children. Anyway, he wanted to do everything for this dog and we got him all set up for an exam, parasite check, heartworm test, the whole shebang. I was on top form today, my friends. I weighed the little guy (who after a quick look at his teeth turned out not to be such a little guy after all) and took him back to the treatment area. Mr. G had to go to work so he left the dog, I’ll call him “Jimmy,” with us for the day. Dr. W came out and decided to do her exam right then and there so I could go about getting my samples, opening his file, and all that jazz. Jimmy was the kind of dog any owner would love to have and any vet tech would love to work on. He was sweet and quiet, did not argue when I put him up on the table, wagged his tail and kept still while his ears were being checked and even rolled over onto his back so we could examine his abdomen and chest. That’s when things got a little...kooky. At this point I have to digress and mention that despite my best efforts, I seem to be fucking up a great deal at work lately. And it’s little things too, like forgetting to initial off on the weight after I enter it in the record, or using someone else’s otoscope cone. But like the GC song goes, the little things just won’t go away, and I find myself getting told off a lot. In a nice way, which almost makes it worse. Back to Jimmy and his wacky life. While examining him, Dr. W and I happened to notice that although he was neutered, Jimmy had an awfully big...pouch. We also noticed that he knew to sit and stay and had recently had his abdomen shaved. These things were odd, so she asked me to scan him again for a chip. I did so as soon as we had him off the table, and was waving the microchip reader over his shoulders, where the chip is usually implanted. Nothing. I moved the reader farther down. Nothing. If I had stopped there, the story would be over, but I didn’t so it’s not. Sorry. Right between his ribs and his tail, I got a reading. I did it again to make sure, but much to my chagrin Jimmy was microchipped. The first telling-off I got was immediate from my boss, the famous Dr. R. She happened to be standing nearby and asked why we hadn’t done it before we examined him. I told her the chart said that he had been scanned at another clinic, which was exactly the wrong thing to say. I think she must have been very poor as a child and forced to eat rats because the first thing she always says is “That is going to cost the clinic (insert number here) dollars,” or “be careful, that’s a (insert monetary amount) (insert piece of equipment) you’re handling.” Dr. W asked me to call Mr. G, and she gave him the scoop. Obviously he was bummed out about the whole thing because he really wanted to keep Jimmy, but like the good man he is, he called the shelter and got the real owner’s name and number. The next thing I know Jimmy’s owner is on the phone and I am even deeper in poo than I was before. Apparently, Jimmy had “just been to the vet” and they said there was “nothing wrong with him,” so how was it that he was brimming with hookworms, giardia and ear mites? It was intimated that perhaps we were just trying to get money out of them. I felt nauseous. Thanks to the fact that we hadn’t scanned the dog before the exam, we had already done all kinds of diagnostics on him and we now had no idea who was going to be footing the bill. I had a nasty feeling it was going to be me. A great many phone calls were made while I sat in the laundry room and prayed to every god and goddess I know of to please let me not get fired. This was not forgetting to charge someone a medical waste fee...this was a monkey fucking a football situation. When he thought it was his dog, Mr. G was willing to do $200 worth of basic testing...the real owners didn’t want to pay the $37 for the exam. More phone calls were made. I was sent to talk to the Hospital Supervisor. In my defense, no one else remembered to scan the dog, and I was about to use this to plead my case for not getting the boot when Mr. G called back to tell us that the original owners decided that this dog was too much trouble anyway and if he wanted it, they would transfer ownership to him. Everyone was so happy that no one saw me fall to the floor and bow in the direction of Mecca several times. It turned out that Mr. G also wanted to do other extensive testing and it could get started right away, so no one paid attention to me. Reprimand waived, stupid mistake forgiven. I hope. Jimmy is going to be fine. With a little dewormer and a few good meals in his stomach, he’s going to be Mr. G’s best friend and go with him every day to work. Despite my stupid mistake, I’m glad it turned out the way it did. The way the original owners acted like it was too much trouble to care for a sick dog is something I see way too often, and a big part of me is glad that I forgot to scan him. If I had remembered, Jimmy might have gone back to his original home and become critically ill from all the parasites gone untreated. The more I think about it, the more it seems that sometimes the dumbest mistakes can bring about the best consequences for everyone involved. At least that’s what I plan to say when my review comes around.   |
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