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The Unhealable Scar
by ANTHONY DI BERNARDO
PVPHS class of '03
Since the beginning of humankind animals have served second place,
always being unconsciously subservient.
The poor dog kicked in the ribs or the pig slaughtered to equalize
the economy has suffered in what is literally a dog-eat-dog world where
people are the dominant K9. As
a result, in my work as a veterinary assistant, I have seen far too many
animals euthanized due to lack of interest, intelligence, and compassion. The Johnson’s down the street, for example, with their new
puppy for little Timmy’s birthday will have it cremated eight months
later due to their son’s newer interests.
Words cannot express what is felt by those who witness such events.
Do some realize that they themselves are animals? This causes me to
ponder: Who is truly more civilized?
Working for a local veterinary clinic, I see many cases everyday;
from an over protective owner concerned for her cat’s single sneeze to
an 80 pound pit bull suffering for months with a broken leg.
I have seen a healthy animal put down because the owner felt their
non-human animal was taking too much time to care for.
While we try to help and find homes for many of these orphans, I am
struck by one painful fact: with
so many animals, there are so few
who care. One particular
heartbreaking case caused me to revaluate my preconceived notions about
animal care and, in many ways, my views on life itself.
On a hot afternoon in May, I was told to assist the doctor in
euthanasia for a Rottweiler. The animal was 105 pounds and was said to be
extremely violent. With a
muzzle already in place, the doctor and I walked into the small and stuffy
room together. I expected to see a very sick animal and one in which our
duty was purely for mercy. Rather,
we found three individuals including one woman crying and sitting with the
dog partially attached to her. The
dog’s rear legs were on the ground and its other legs and head were
against the owner’s face as she wept.
The woman’s son was sitting next to her, along with another
supporter; everyone present seemed ready to get the horrible ordeal over
with. I began to scan the
creature with my eyes to search for any type of deterioration or cancer;
instead of sickness, I found a petrified animal that was perfectly healthy
and not wanting to let go of its “mother.” The doctor could tell that
the dog was comfortable, and in that position suggested we enter the
euthanasia needle through the back leg.
When we crouched to the ground the frightened animal looked at us
and I saw water pouring from its eyes and whining taking place. I have assisted in at least 50 of these procedures, yet this
was the only one in which I felt it necessary to look away.
Something told me that the animal knew what was about to take
place. With some searching I
applied a tourniquet with my fingers and with a single prick the doctor
had hit the vein. The serum
was then injected. At this
point each person began to cry louder.
The mother yelled to her son to shut his eyes and within five
seconds we blanketed the corpse on the floor.
The woman fell to the floor and hugged the life-less creature.
She began to shout how sorry she was; she said this was the best
that she could do.
As
the doctor and I exited to the lobby, every person in the waiting room was
crying as they heard the sad sounds coming from the examination room.
The doctor thanked me for my help, as it was a seemingly painless
action on our behalf. I told him he was welcome and asked why the dog,
apparently healthy and loved, was put down. “Well Anthony,” he said,
“it seems that her new boy friend is not inclined to dogs and he gave
her a choice.” We both knew
what that choice was, and I began to feel very ill.
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