Curiouser and Curiouser

After three and a half years, today was my last day at PetS*.

I'm reflecting on this here as my exhausted dog sleeps in my lap after being groomed this morning. I wonder a little if she would have been less of a tool about trimming her feet if she knew that today was her last day there. She likes going in with me in the mornings.

Anyway, I've learned more things there than I could ever count. Basic retail skills, like working a register and assembling a planogram, and more specialized skills, like the correct husbandry for dozens of species of critters in our care.

One of my favorite jobs I'd had was making sure all the chinchillas got to take a dust bath. Best. Morning. Duty. Ever.

I formalized my dog training style, and met hundreds of students and their dogs. I felt like I got to make a difference in a lot of lives, and educate a lot of well-meaning-but-confused people along with their equally well-meaning-but-confused dogs. And met some of the best and worst dogs you'll ever see.

I also learned a lot about dealing with customers and, perhaps more importantly, managers.

But as much as I'm grateful for all that, I think the wistfulness and mourning isn't really for the job itself (and again, I don't think I'd be the person I am today without it!) but rather the period in my life it represented.

When I first started working there, I had just made the Big Decision that I didn't want to be a chemist anymore, and accepted the fact that forcing myself through WPI was making me miserable and was the main source of depression. I was caught up in a whirlwind of "Now what?" and becoming a trainer was like the directional arrow pointing "this way." So that's where I went.

I was pretty much transformed. I went from a terrible struggle to pull myself up in the morning to being chipper at 6am, when I had to leave for my shift. I became motivated for something, which had long been lacking in my life. I suppose, looking back, that I had sorely missed that kind of drive.

Of course, there were times when I hated working there. Sometimes it was horrible students. Other times it was frustration at the conglomo-mind-borg structure of corporate retail. Sometimes it was just angst. And I had plenty of that, too - I was in an unproductive rut, my relationship with elenuial was at its most volatile, and my self-esteem was pretty low. Sometimes the thought of spending my break playing with baby chinchillas (or teaching a class full of enthusiastic four-month-old-puppies who were sponges) was what kept me sane.

And so began the Moping Rut phase, where I questioned my future, my abilities, my relationship, and pretty much anything I had stock in. I stopped doing anything creative, elenuial got frustrated with me constantly, and I gave up on my attempts to find a school to go back to and stick to it. And more negativity. And more nosedives. And more labels, like "failure" and "dropout" and all sorts of other lovely things.

This lasted forever. Seriously. The lows stayed low for years. And I began to associate my job with what I perceived as a waste of a life and sat and stewed for a long, long time.

Then, about a year ago, things went on an upswing. I realized (through my little brother, ironically enough) that I had done the right thing by leaving WPI. He told me that even though I was miserable, I looked happier than I ever had at WPI. And he used me as a measure as well, saying that he wants to be like me - someone happy and successful despite not having a degree rather than someone who got a degree and hates their field. It was thanks to that smack in the face that I realized that he was right - how many people got to do something they loved, change people's lives, face challenges that keep them busy, roll around with puppies, and get paid for it?

I started doing creative things again. Jewelry. Photography. I cut back on other commitments. I put down a deposit on an unborn puppy that I had budgeted for, planned for, and dreamed about for (my whole life! but, realistically:) two years. I started taking better care of myself and really socializing again.

And, seeing the change and my newfound identity based on confidence and self-respect, elenuial said he wanted to marry me.

I got the dog. I went to cons. I said "yes" to things that Mopey Haz in a Corner would never have agreed to. More stuff happened. I agreed to move to Japan. I got married. There were lows, sure, but overall it's been a steady crawl out of the ditch I'd willingly buried myself in.

While my personal life has been great, work has been stressful over the last six months. We had three groomers quit, a waitlist 30 miles long, broken equipment, and no end in sight. I felt bad giving my notice, despite it being months in advance. Still, I did what I could to help by things like picking up extra hours, blocking off time to fix what I could, and taking on a lot of cleaning duties so that stylists could accept more dogs. I was told time and again how, without me, the salon would've been screwed. Which made me worry more about what would happen when I left.

And as of today, we have three new groomers, two new bathers, and a host of new fixtures out back, all resolved within the span of two weeks. Things are looking bright, and morale is hugely improved. It was like the universe saying "...aaand this is okay now. Cool, you can go."

So I left without any real fuss (although the cake from Coldstone was nice!), just saying goodbye to the managers and the other employees I'd known longest. I left a note for those not on staff today ("Thanks for the last few years PS TRY NOT TO GET BITTEN OK"), did some re-stocking of Elsa treats, grabbed my keys, and walked out the door.

And this just adds to the feeling like something is about to start, or has already started to move. Big Life Things. And leaving this job just pulls everything into perspective. I'm not who I was three and a half years ago - with short black hair and a bleak vision of the future.

I've accepted that that I might not finish my degree (though I still intend to), and that getting one for the sake of getting one will not guarantee my happiness.

I've accepted that I am responsible for my own happiness, and that nothing will be handed to me. A lot of things come with some form of a fight if they're really worth it. Like elenuial.

I've even accepted the fact that I might be a tiny bit blonde.

So, 3:10 today marked the end of an era for me as I punched out for the last time. I might do something tonight to celebrate. But for now, I'll let the dog I raised from a baby sleep, edit some phenomenal photos of my idiot friends dressed as supervillains, and marvel at how awesome my life has miraculously become.

Here's the coupon. 15% off everything.

Go shop at my place of employment!

- I have come into possession of cute stationery. Perhaps I should get into handwritten letters? There's something romantic about that.

- I made friends with a seven-month old spaniel named Winston today. When I asked if I could pet him, the owner hesitated, saying that he didn't really like people, but that I could try. So I knelt down and he trotted over. Then let me scratch him. They let me tousle him. Then, as we were playing a bit, he backed up and dropped into an unmistakable bow. His owner proceeded to nearly lose his shit, explaining that his dog never bowed to humans. Winston bowed again, and asked me to play. So I played a little, and the owner stared at me like I was made of magic before asking me if I had a card. I did. Winston barked for my attention and let me stretch out his cheeks, prompting his owner to freak out again. It made me happy.

- I have a few friends to whom I can say "You know, you're pretty freaking awesome" and not have them think that I'm hitting on them. It's rather cool to know.

- I'm going to be shooting models in Boston during the day on Friday, probably hitting up Xmortis that night. Models should be done by 5ish, and I want an evening model. If I get one, I won't want to drive home for 8 to be back in boston by 9. Anyone got anything to occupy my time that night?

I have actually found a chihuahua that I actively like.

I swear. Despite ranting to the contrary.

She's a 2-pound (if that), ten-inch, nine-month-old black and white smooth coat named Chile (we call her Chilly Dog in the store) who is a total lovebug. She runs up to people and sits at their feet, looking up and tucking her ears back so that she can be scratched behind them. She's also reasonably good with other dogs, too - big dogs, mostly. Hyper little dogs like Westies she might nip at so that they'll stop freaking out at her.

And all of this is a testament to her owner's hard work. The woman comes in every day (sometimes more than once) with Chile on a leash and wearing a little pink jacket, and the dog runs ahead of her to see what's changed since her last visit. The woman never carries her (hardly ever picks her up) and never babies her, ensuring that she'll have a well-adjusted, social, confident chihuahua. Not fearless, mind you - a healthy dose of caution is good for a dog, especially a small one - but confident enough to run up to strangers and whore for affection.

And she has more than enough willing volunteers to cuddle her. She's tiny, cute, and happy. And, due to her owner's influence, a gem in the gravel.

I cannot compliment that lady enough.

Why my life is made of awesome right now:

- Bowie! He had a big day yesterday. He had a good shed for once (first time all in one piece! I'm so proud!) and was back in a good mood. We went to PetS* in the morning to get a cat crate for my parents and a heat mat plus food for Bowie (I found surgical tongs! Score!). They were out of anything smaller than medium frozen mice, which was upsetting, but I bit my pride down and went to Petc* instead. While there, I was happy to find that their brand of frozen rodents came in individual packs, something I'd been looking for. So I got my baby a 3-pack of Pinkies and a single Fuzzy. People fawned all over him, and he was very well-behaved! I got to educate some kids, talk to some other herpers (a bunch of redtail owners), and he got to nose around my shirt and embarrass me. He slept most of the time while driving and at Sutman's with the three of us watching TV, but sprang back up when I put him in his feeding tank and prepared his first Fuzzy ever.
He ate the entire thing like a champ.
So now instead of three pinkies he gets a fuzzy every week. For reference, the former is like eating a burger whole. The latter is like eating the waitress.
It's the first time he's ever had to stretch his jaw so wide - it took him a good few minutes to swallow the whole thing and ended up with the tail sticking out of his mouth like spaghetti. It was adorable! He was in a food coma until this morning, the lazy little git, but is now perky and satisfied.
<3 my baby.

- The love of my life is coming home soon!

- Gogol Bordello in concert was amazing.

- Rocky Horror tonight!

- Bower Bird auditions are next week! Holy shit, a play I wrote is a feature show. Holy shit.

- Work, pt 1! Although passive-aggressively pushing me into a position I didn't want, said position isn't quite as bad as I thought. And despite them wanting me to do amounts of work that are, frankly, ridiculous in the time they schedule me, the dogs in my classes are more than making up for it. I have a couple of dogs who were abused-turned-rescued, and I'm helping them and their new owners acclimate. I have a bunch of dogs I'm training to be companion/service/therapy dogs, and some are just adorably goofy puppies that I get to watch grow up. I've also started a new thing that my students are happy about, which is helping them set up play dates with dogs from other classes (dogs get to play with other dogs where both sets of owners know that each dog is healthy, trained, and controlled). I also had my first graduation today~! Pictures later.

- Work, pt 2! I asked, rather short notice, for a few days off this coming week so that I could go ahead to Canada with Sutman and Carmen. Manager K* hemmed and hawed and said, essentially, no. We had a bunch of people out, and a few quit/let go. I was needed. I was disappointed, but understanding. I check the schedule today and - lo and behold - I work until 2pm Wednesday and then not again until class on Saturday morning! Canada is a go, and I'm SO baking Manager K* cookies.

On the other hand, I feel bad that every morning, after my car has been in the driveway overnight, there's a gorgeous spiderweb sitting between the bushes and my driver's side door handle. I relocate my end to another leaf on the bush, but darned if that spider doesn't move it back every damn time.

Off to go sing in the shower.

-H

Today I got my first animal-related injury.

I have a huge freaking gash scrape from being latched onto by a crazed evil robot hermit crab.

At least he didn't break the skin. Found out later that if he had, I'd have had to get a tetanus booster.

Who wants hermit crabs as pets, really? Usually "crabs" refers to something that people generally don't want.

-H

One of the other animals we carry that are part of the skink family are Schneider's Skinks, much smaller than the yellow-lined plated in the enclosure above them. As with all insectivore lizards, we alternate food to give them a more varied diet. This takes place on their Mealworm day.

S: (flail against glass)
H: (opening cage) You're excited. Breakfast! I don't know how well you take to being hand-fed, but we'll try a -
S: (nom)
H: ...Well, that answers that. Hey, C*! He sucked it down like spaghetti. We're good.
S: That's because YOU STARVE ME. (flails)
H: You eat just fine. I know this. I have to feed you guys every day. Speaking of which, where's your brother?
S: I ATE HIM.
H: (checks tag) He's at the vet.
S: BECAUSE I ATE HIM.
H: Nice try. Now, do I even have to wiggle the mealworm, or do you just -
S: (nom)
H: I think you just eat whatever's put in front of your face. (looking up at yellow-lined) Why can't you be more like him?
L: I'm a majestic predator. I only hunt.
H: I made it run around the cage for you!
L: I could see the tongs, you know. That's not really hunting.
H: Whatever. You can go for weeks without eating. One day won't kill you.
L: ... (nom)
H: Was that so hard?
L: It's squishy. Why aren't you showering me with praise and thanks for saving your job?
H: Scaly little malcontent. (back to skink) Now that I think about it, there are still crickets in your cage! If you're so absolutely starving, why didn't you eat those?
S: Because that requires effort.
H: ...
S: Give me a mealworm!
H: No. No more bugs until you eat what you have in there.
S: But... But...!
H: I can't feed you until your other food is gone. It's a rule.
S: That you just made up?
H: NO. EAT YOUR CRICKETS.
L: I'll eat his crickets.
H: You won't even eat your mealworms!
L: That's because you don't make them interesting enough.

I feel like a mom with 78 fussy, whiny two-year-olds.

On the plus side, we now have four chinchillas at work. One that came in the other day was a little guy - shy, but nosy. If I cup my hands together, he can sit easily in my palms. He almost doesn't need both.

And I found out something interesting about the yellow-lined plated: when they shed, they don't lose the top layer like most snakes and other reptiles do. Instead, his scales just fall off. Like cat hair. So as I picked him up, there was a little rain of what looked like mica falling into his cage. I brushed him off, and even more fell. The downside of this, however, was that as I cleaned his cage and he sat on my shirt, I was covered in what looked like glitter for the rest of the day. =/

I'll post about the 20 bearded dragon hatchlings we have later. <3

-H

So, one thing that I've really noticed working where I do (and doing what I do) is that the surge of designer dogs has gotten ridiculous.

Designer dogs being dogs that are bred for looks, all other traits thrown to the wind. Like mixing two breeds that make for a cute but otherwise horrible to take care of dog... or selectively breeding small breeds for size with no regard to the health and behavioral problems that result. *cough*chihuahuas*cough*

Like the Dorgi. Dachshunds? Popular. Corgis? Popular. So combining the two must make something doubly awesome, right?
Wrong. What happens when you mix a breed that has short legs and hip problems with another breed that has short legs and hip problems? Twice the health issues and twice the obesity problem.
But that doesn't matter, since as long as it looks cute, it'll sell.

There's also the issue that anything mixed with a poodle tends to look pretty much the same, with the only difference being their size. Compare, for example, the Cockapoo, the Labradoodle, the Goldendoodle, and the Maltepoo. And since those hybrids don't breed true, there' only a 25% chance you'll get a puppy with the good qualities of either parent. Not to mention that the grooming regimen you'll need to do to keep them that cute is grueling.

There is one popular hybrid that I do wholeheartedly approve of, however (and I am looking for more!): the Pug/Beagle mix known as the Puggle. They took two different breeds and crossed them in such a way that the trouble traits are all but eliminated. For example, the pug's wrinkle problem that hampers hygiene is gone, as well as the nasal trouble that comes from having a compressed muzzle. Also, very few puggles are barkers like their beagle parent and even fewer have been known to have the beagle howl. They tend to keep the pug's coloring with some spots of white from the beagle, and the softness of coat and body carriage of said beagle parent. They're still having trouble with recessive genes popping up in second-gen (puggle x puggle) puppies, but they're working on standardizing.

A healthier (and still cute) dog, compatible with more owners? That should be the point of a hybrid. Not breeding small so that it fits in your purse and dies in two years. =/

-H

So, aside from my griping, work is good.

- I have made friends with the diva ball python. He lets me hold him now. I am known as Queen of the Reptiles now, as I am one of two people unafraid to handle our snakes.

- I got bitten for the first time today! Granted, it didn't draw blood (or hurt, really), but he was persistent. I had been prepping the small lizard enclosure to be cleaned, which includes removing the occupants to a travel container. It took some doing, but I caught our Bahaman Anole, who promptly latched onto the side of my finger. Calmly, I lifted my hand (with him dangling) and dumped him in his little carry-case. Looking back, I feel as though I should have at least winced or something in response to make the little guy feel better about himself.

- A customer came in today to buy fish he was going to use to ask the girl he liked to prom. In with his female friend (who kept laughing) he asked which fish were pretty and easy to take care of and serenaded me with the poem he wrote just for the occasion. It took a good bit of convincing, but I talked him out of choosing fish just for the number of syllables in their names. Here is said poem:
"I have a neon tetra
and a cremecicle molly, too
I'm taking them to prom
but I'd rather take you"
It was funny. I told him I hoped it worked, wished him good luck, and wrote down their species names for him to look up later.

More later. Also, on an unrelated note, I cut off over a foot of my hair.

-H

My hard work has paid off. The chinchilla I've been working with has found a home.

But I did get stung by a catfish today while following procedure for bagging fish. Needless to say, that part of the procedure was then ignored for the rest of the order. The remaining catfish were then (instead of being cupped in the net and gently deposited) unceremoniously dumped into the holding tank.

Also, I got to actually train dogs today. The commands I learned to teach were "Sit," "Watch me," "Leave it," and loose leash walking. I got to practice on our veterinarian's two very affectionate sable French bulldogs. It was fantastic. I love working with dogs, even the smaller ones.

And to top it all off, apparently several customers have come into the store for the express purpose of complimenting me to my managers.

Win.

-Haz