A year ago around this time, I wrote about the trials and tribulations of the two and a half years I spent working in animal care.
The event was held in conjunction with National Veterinary Technician Week. And by the time I finished reading it, I found out that the second part will be published in 2024, because one column on this topic is not enough. I don’t know if one book can cover everything.
So, with National Veterinary Technician Week 2024 coming to an end on October 19th, we’re here with part two.
And I’ll start with this: National Veterinary Technician Week should be National Veterinary Technician Month. Because, like the one-column premise, a week hardly seems like enough time to celebrate one of the most thankless professions on the planet.
From my perspective, having had a front row seat in the industry for several years, the entire career field seemed unappreciated. For veterinarians, veterinarians, and kennel staff, the shifts are grueling, high-pressure, and physically and mentally draining. However, customers often treat those involved in animal care poorly, viewing them as unworthy of respect and consideration.
for example:
At the Portage County kennel where I worked, when I arrived for my 4 p.m. shift, I was immediately tasked with walking the dogs, preparing dinner, giving them medicine, and cleaning the kennel runs and cages. I’m getting started (and messing around all the time) and getting the kennel ready to open to customers. I was the only employee on the night shift.
The time came and I stepped forward to open the door for the customer. And I was shocked to see a woman already standing in the lobby waiting for me, a very angry woman. “Where have you been?” she demanded. I have no idea how she got in without a key, who she is, why she’s there, and how to unceremoniously escort her from the premises by pressing the police button under the front desk. I had no idea what I needed to press.
I considered acting on the assumption that she had come to pick up the dog from the kennel, but was careful to stay close to the police button.
This is what I wanted to say. “I’ve been busy dealing with dog diarrhea and vomit, and making sure medicines get to the animals that need them on time. So, how was the tea and crumpet party?”
Instead, I told her what time the kennel would be open to customers and she completely ignored that statement. “I’ve been banging on the door for 15 minutes!!!”
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“One of the workers let me in,” she said, referring to the contractors working at the facility. That was all sorts of unauthorized activity, but that’s a different matter at this point.
“I was in the back, so I didn’t hear the knock,” I told her, repeating, “I wasn’t accepting any customers just now.”
“Why haven’t you heard me for 15 minutes?” she demanded.
I got the impression that if I slipped out of the room, she could just as easily have a conversation with me. My presence was not required.
I said, trying to distract her from her monocentric thoughts. “So, who are you picking up today?”
Her answer is “My dog.”
There were about 20 dogs behind me. Her answer wasn’t helpful, and she knew it.
“Okay,” I said, swallowing hard this time. “So, what’s the dog’s name?”
She said yes, and thankfully I was able to free myself from her presence and return to where my dog was. She had a small, cozy dog that I could hold in my arms, so I scooped up the dog and the bag of treats, went back to the front desk, handed the dog over, and let this obnoxious human… I counted the seconds until I could walk. disappear from my life forever.
Then a miracle happened. The woman smiled as she held the dog in her arms, something I had never thought of. Unfortunately, that smile lasted as she counted the number of treats in the clear plastic bag. “Why are there so many treats?!” You were supposed to give her a treat every day! ! ! ”
“I was,” I answered. “She didn’t eat the sweets, so we stopped giving her the treats so they didn’t go to waste.”
To this our wizard replied: “You were supposed to give her a treat every day! What’s your name? I’m going to call the doctor here and get you. Don’t work here next week!!!”
Well, she was right about that. I had already turned in my notice and only had a few more days left to work at the kennel.
“Tom Hardesty,” I answered.
“What’s the spelling?” she snorted.
I tried my best not to say “Tom.”
But even though I pulled myself together, spelled my last name twice in her place, and didn’t ask her to repeat the spelling, I’m still waiting to hear from my doctor four and a half years later.
Then the woman held the dog in front of her and apologized to the dog — “Mom, I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a treat, honey,” she said as I watched from the other side of the front desk in horror and awe. she said, and then walked out of the building. And thankfully, my life.
That’s the kind of rude and hostile treatment I’m talking about, and that’s just one example. Bad treatment by customers and employers is nothing new for ordinary American employees. We have reduced it to the level of art. But it’s especially frustrating when it comes at the expense of the people who are trying to help you.
It’s even worse for veterinary technicians. Because they are on the front lines of life and death. It’s a tense, high-pressure atmosphere, dealing with owners who are scared, stressed, and angry about the situation their sick dog or cat is in at the moment. I know because I’ve been the owner of such a pet, which is more than beneficial for my mental health. Pet owners are looking for answers, cures, and miracles, and they need it now.
And then a miracle happens. A few years ago, when I worked as a night veterinary assistant at a Summit County animal hospital, it was just me and the animals from about midnight until 7 a.m. I forgot to count the number of dogs and cats I expected to die. I found out on my watch or right after I left for work in the morning that they were home and doing well. This is a testament to how good veterinarians are and the important role their technicians play in serving and saving animals.
Veterinary technicians are often first responders in the veterinary industry. We had a vet tech on call every night. My job was to call them for help and answers if a medical situation arose. Generally, any issues that arose were resolved. In extreme cases, it was necessary to call a veterinarian for emergency treatment. Early on in this career, I was struck by the depth of knowledge that veterinarians have regarding medications and treatments, and the skill with which they apply treatment techniques. I knew they didn’t hold puppies, but I didn’t know their expertise was this deep.
However, being a veterinarian isn’t all about knowledge, quick thinking, and job skills. These are humans too, and the mental and emotional strain of constant contact with sick and dying animals increases over time. There is a lot of it, but there is a limit to how much a person can accept. For some veterinarians, it lasts for years, while for others it only takes a few minutes. A study by the American Veterinary Technicians Association, a nonprofit organization that promotes the veterinary technology profession, found that approximately 57% of technicians quit their job within the first five years due to low pay, long and physically demanding work hours, or poverty. It turned out that he had changed jobs. Benefits and burnout.
Good news: Employment for veterinary technicians is projected to grow 19% from 2023 to 2033, much faster than the average for all occupations. It is an encouraging sign that there are still people willing to do this noble and necessary work.
So the next time you have to take Muffy to the vet, remember that those who help at the vet aren’t there to get rich. That person is there because they love animals and have dedicated themselves to helping animals. Before you even walk in the door, they have experienced a full day of pet death, injury, suffering, and owner anxiety and grief. They are physically exhausted and mentally exhausted, but they are in the exam room, at the table, ready to do whatever it takes to help.
They know you are scared, panicked, and stressed. And they understand it. Because they are pet owners too. They have walked in your shoes, felt the fear, and suffered the grief when their dog or cat died. They know exactly what you are thinking and feeling.
I consider my time working in veterinary medicine both a blessing and a curse. It has been a blessing to be surrounded by so many talented, intelligent, and caring people who have taught me so much about fields I never dreamed I would be involved in. Also, it was a blessing to be able to play a role, even if it was a small role like mine. He has rescued, comforted, and saved many dogs and cats.
It was a curse to see the horrors that come with this job. I wish I could no longer see it, but it will forever be etched in my mind’s eye. I will always remember “my” patients who couldn’t make it to the hospital, like the bulldog who was in the oxygen room or the cat who held his paw all night while we listened to the radio. He passed away shortly after I left in the morning. I’ll never forget any of them.
Most of all, it was a blessing to work with veterinary technicians. Many times I have seen them come to work at 7 a.m., work with them until their shift ends at 8 a.m., go home, sleep all day, wake up, eat dinner, and go to work again at 10 p.m. Ta. And one or two of them are still there. Their work ethic and dedication was amazing.
Thank you to all the veterinarians around the world. And know that what you do and experience every day is valued.
Especially to those in fur coats.
Tom Hardesty is Portager’s sports columnist. He was previously assistant sports editor for the Record-Courier and author of the book Glimpses of Heaven.
