no skills was too much. Elkins was my last option. I had worked so hard
getting the position; was I really willing to throw all that away? Of course,
the guilt was enough to eat me alive, and I lay awake all night pondering
my decision. I wanted to do this; I needed to do this. I was going to be
successful. I needed to be suc cessful first, so that I could go to school and
become the opposite of everything Dr. EIlis was. I could save so many
more animals, and this position was the stepping stone I needed in order
to get myself there. The very next day, I awoke with my 8 a.m. alarm and
went in to work.
Months went by, and I saw Dr. Ellis commit more and more
atrocities; in fact, I assisted with them. The guilt that once consumed my
every thought began to subside like waves being dragged back to shore.
I began not to think about it. My first impression of the bright and
pristine hospital was now infected, and everywhere I looked I saw filth
and mistakes. Instead of the stench of disinfectant, the smell of blood
consistently surrounded me. After I clocked out each day, it was much
easier for me to leave work at work, and the line between the hospital and
myself was thickened; so was the grey area between right and wrong. I
calloused like a workingman’s hands; I, too, was overworked to the point
where I didn’t feel anything.
During my last week with the Elkins Animal Hospital, one
miniature dachshund changed my life forever. The three-year-old
dachshund made my decision to stop allowing my morals to suffer for
my work. Dobby, covered in short, chocolate-colored fur and black,
misshapen spots, arrived at the hospital, at the end of the day, with
extensive injuries and a (surprisingly) cheery disposition. Though caked
in blood, his stubby tail still wagged, and though he labored to breathe,
his soft, pink tongue still managed to dole out many kisses to whatever
hand was within reach.
Dobby’s family had said they were not sure what had happened
to him; they just found him lying at the end of the driveway with some
nearby blood. However, full-body x-rays revealed that Dobby had a
fair amount of broken bones as well as some old, untreated injuries. At
this point, the staff had many speculations that perhaps this animal was
abused, and I agree; when brought to her attention, Dr. Ellis said that
confronting the owners about the old injuries would have to wait until
the current injuries were treated and Dobby’s condition was more stable.
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