Moose is dead.
Beau, the 15 year old sheltie who actually seemed grateful when I shaved pounds of matted hair off of him and cleaned his neglected ears, is dead.
Yup, the only two pets that I gave a damn about on Sunday are dead by Monday.
It would be an easy job if I didn't care.
The first vet I ever worked for was in the hospital last night. It was kinda odd seeing him. I worked at his hospital almost 10 years ago. Can't really believe i'm still in this industry ...
Michael stays up here until Monday night nearly every weekend, and it's really easy to get used to coming home to him. Tuesday mornings are too quiet and cold.
Pharmacies keep stupid hours ... mostly the ones I want to spend sleeping instead of dealing with prescriptions.
