How often do you have a day where the first call you get in the morning is that of an injured goose.
You google How to catch a goose?
Why of-course; Grab it by the neck.
You take a Goose back and bandage it’s wing. Then you wait for a rescue group to pick it up.
Just when you’re feeling good about yourself, you get a call of a Puppy that’s been beaten by young boys.
You get there and the puppy is bleeding from his anus. You wrap him in a towel and pick him up. Concerned citizens are judging the kids for being cruel- but you know in your deepest worries that this puppy has Parvo…and he just blew up today.
You are carrying him in your arms in the shelter and he lets out a stream of vomit from his mouth and a stream of blood from his rectum. Before you know it you are covered in blood and drool.
You are now CONTAMINATED. You can’t be in the shelter because Parvo is lethal and spreads quickly. So you are ready to dash out the door. But wait… A vet tech grabs you by the arm. “You have to euthanize the puppy first.”
You freeze. “What? Me? but… but… Its a…I’ve never–”
They thrust a bottle of Euthasol in your hand and a few syringes and tranquilizer in your shirt pocket. All without touching the blood or vomit.
If you’ve never smelled PARVOVIRUS… you are a lucky human. Nothing smelly more deathly than that.
So with blood and grime and drool and vomit and some tears on your body… You pet the puppy’s head to give it love and then plunge the needle to kill it.
Your heart is detached from your body. Your senses are drowning your adrenaline.
Then you drive off– scared to tackle the next day… but hopeful of saving one more goose– or a raccoon or a puppy or a turtle or a horse.