Unexpected Challenges

[ladysprite]

I've always known that my job would throw curveballs at me, and I had always kind of figured that I was more or less prepared for most of them. Even if the challenges were the sort of thing that you can't prepare for in specific, I thought I knew the general forms they'd take. Coping with death, and emotional turmoil. Facing down icky bodily fluids. Physical risk and danger. Trying to educate the recalcitrant.

Yesterday I faced a challenge that had never even begun to flicker at the edges of my consciousness as a potential obstacle. Namely, how the heck does one handle taking care of a pet that has the same first name as your mother?

I tried, I honestly did. But standing there, petting the critter and saying, 'Good girl, M____,' 'Has M___ been using the litterbox well?' and 'Sit, M___! Down, M____!' and 'Be nice, M_____, and let me check your ears now,' just felt WAY the heck too weird.

After a few minutes I just cracked up, and then took a moment to explain the situation to the client, who graciously (and amusedly) didn't complain when I made it the rest of the way through the appointment referring to her pet as 'sweetie.'

Still, there's a part of me that can't get that creepy-bizarre juxtaposition out of my head.....

Comments

[ladymacgregor.livejournal.com]

Oh, I dunno. Based on when I worked for a vet as a kid, I'm sure you have seen LOTS of absolutely whacked-out pet names (as well as the equivalent of "Spot" or "Blackie" or something equally imaginative).

My favorite - and I am not making this up: "Titty". It was short for "Titty Tat." (I mean, imagine having to call that cat in from your yard.) I believe I opted for some form of "sweetie" for him, also, during his visits.