Veterinary Medicine

I needed a part-time job when I landed in San Diego and saw an ad for “kennel attendant” at a local veterinary hospital. What could be more fun? Walk the dogs, pet the cats, get a paycheck and meet a few friends while I move closer to that Academy Award.

And then God laughed. Again.

I fell in love with veterinary medicine. Working with animals nurtured a piece of me that nothing else could. I experienced first-hand how the bond between animal and human can call a person to a higher level.

I discovered the Holy in the eyes of every dog and cat I met. Ok, maybe not every cat. I’m a dog person. Cats befuddle me.

I became a dog mom many, many times over and realized that being a part of a pack brought me more joy than almost anything else I had done in my life.

A part-time job picking up poop changed me at a cellular level. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Working in veterinary medicine has been the one constant in my life over the last 13 years. Through fits and starts with writing, the death of my father, the disintegration of two significant relationships, a half dozen new apartments, an unwelcomed prescription for reading glasses and at least five more plans, I have stayed grounded in my close proximity to the lives of my canine and feline friends.

For the record, two cats currently share my house with me. I don’t necessarily claim them as my own, but we have managed a congenial co-existence. Except when they bring lizards into the house.

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