First day.....

I will always remember my first job as a vet. To say it was a disaster is an understatement. I remember it so well because it was at that time my father was diagnosed with melanoma.

I started in February after some down time from university. Eleanor and I had decided to do the long distance thing and I was moving to a town of 3000 people which had 2 pubs and one supermarket.

It was mixed animal which, I thought at the time, was my dream job.

My first large animal call was with a recent graduate. He rolled in to work at 900 after a weekend in Sydney. He was hungover and looked like crap.

We got the call at 930 and Shannon and I headed out to look at a horse which was lame. Once there Shannon decided that he was so hung over that he needed a hangover helper. He proceeded to take a bottle of Finadyne and put a drop into his orange juice guaranteeing me that this would either cure him or kill him. It did neither.

So this was veterinary medicine,

The rest of the day was fairly unremarkable except for the last call of the day. A euthanasia that I had to do. It was a cat with a squamous cell carcinoma of the face. He had stopped eating and his mum had struggled with the decision to euthanize him. The only thing that came to mind at that time was James Herriot:

"The dog did not move as the needle was inserted, and, as the barbiturate began to flow into the vein, the anxious expression left his face and the muscles began to relax. By the time the injection was finished, the breathing has stopped."

Now before anyone comments I know it was a cat.........