Around junior high, I decided I was going to be a veterinarian when I grew up. I wonder how I would have felt back then if I had known I would still be trying to answer the what to be when I grow up question at the age of 32. Anyway, my mom arranged with you vet guys to let me come spend the day hanging out at your office watching y'all doctor up some animals. I got to wear one of those badass white coats, sit in on exams, help prep exam rooms, hold animals still for shots, all that cool shit. I remember everybody in the office having to pitch in to hold that doberman still for a shot. I remember noticing how the gentleman who had brought in the lizard that had lost its appetite looked rather lizard-like himself.
I'll never forget the first neutering I witnessed. I don't remember if it was a dog or a cat, but I do remember the sight of that first bloody ball sitting on the operating table, still and purposeless. It seemed so sad by itself, though it didn't seem much happier when its partner came to join it by its side.
Then there was that dog that you had to put to sleep. You left it up to me whether or not to sit in on it, and for some reason I couldn't keep away. I had to sit quietly in your office for a little while after that. I remember wondering if I would be able to do that.
Hey, remember how that one old lady brought in that little dog and I walked into the exam room before you guys and started examining it and asking her questions like I was the vet? I thought I was pretty convincing, but in retrospect, probably not. Thanks for not getting mad about that. I was only asking the questions I'd heard you ask all day.