All views expressed in this blog are my stories, opinions and views and are not that of Loudoun County Animal Services.
V. Newsome
Running At Large
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Friday, August 22, 2014
Transplants
The area I was covering at this time consisted of lush farm
land, rolling hills and corn fields. Up until the 1960's, my county had
consisted mostly of farms and farmland. However it's close proximity to
Washington DC and Dulles Airport made for a popular place for government
workers to settle with their families. In the 1960s the eastern
portion of the county, the farms of old, began disappearing and were replaced by sprawling planned communities. The western portion of the
county, however, has seen slower growth over the years than that area closest
to DC. The western area is still more sparsely populated, and continues to have
the feel of a farm based community. It's therefore not unusual for the officers
assigned to "The West" to get calls about livestock and
wildlife. Even so, there is a lot of new
construction going on within these few remaining farming communities, as
suburbia tries to close the gab between urban and rural. New upscale
subdivisions, “McMansions” as we Natives call them, spring up in a matter of
weeks. One day horses and cattle graze in pastures, and the next the land is
surveyed, subdivided, and under construction; farm animals are replaced by
heavy equipment ready to move the earth. A sort of sadness overtakes the land
when what was once farmland is no more. The area is changing faster than I can
keep up.
When the newly transplanted Mcmansion owners, (people who
are usually from the "city"), move into the new country homes, they
are, without exception, unprepared to coexist with the wildlife who still live
in and call "home", the front
yard of the proud, yet unsuspecting, new homeowner. Eager to start their new
lives on their 1-5 acre lots the new residents are filled with excitement to be
living in the country. How quickly reality does set in! You watch as they militarize their homes
against invading wildlife. Six foot deer fencing is erected. Strategically
placed circles of moth balls are deployed to ward off snakes. Bat houses line
the back yard, flood lights capable of guiding an incoming 747 are installed,
with a surveillance camera added for good measure, to oversee the entire
operation.
Even with all their hard work they are still worried about
the local wildlife. The calls pour into dispatch: "I have kids and they
are most certainly going to be attacked by the wildlife. Come quickly and
remove everything! Johnny could be eaten by a rabid raccoon and little Fluffy
will certainly be carried away by a rouge hawk."
Often time the newer and less knowledgeable people will call
about livestock. It can go from one extreme to the other. The most frequent of questions comes in the
spring time. The complainant is perplexed because someone has gone onto the
neighbor’s horse farm and blind folded all of the horses. We kindly explain the
practice of using fly masks and reassure them that no one is mistreating the
horses, and to please climb back over the fence and kindly stop removing the
“blindfolds” from the horses as they are a necessity this time of year.
A call came in for an
injured cow. The way the complaint came in is memorable. It was explained that
the cow was standing but that something was very wrong. She was deformed! According to the complaint,
there was a lot of tissue near the rear of the animal and an extra set of feet.
I immediately recognized that the cow was laboring and trying to deliver a
calf. When I arrived on scene the birthing was finished. A large still-born
bull calf had been delivered. The mother was down on the ground and in a bad
way. Trailing behind her was her uterus. This is called a prolapse, and for all
of you who don’t have a good imagination the cow uterus is enormous, so think
about that for a minute. The cow had continued to strain in labor, even after
the calf was born, until she expelled her uterus. A disturbing sight for the
uninitiated newcomer, to say the least.
Unable to locate the
farm owner I called a local veterinarian who was on the road and able to come
assist. This veterinarian is your typical old time cow veterinarian. Everything
is taken very literally and without fuss. He jumps right in grabbing, tugging
and pushing things to and fro. His bed side manner is that of an alligator that
just swallowed razor blades but his technique and skills are the best I have
ever seen.
The uterus is a large organ, and so you can imagine that
once it’s been on the ground it’s, well a little bit dirty. The day was cold
and so on top of dirty it was starting to freeze. The entire scene looked like
it belonged in a cheaply made horror movie. What it must have looked like as he
and I lugged around a giant uterus, all the time trying to keep the cow
sternal. Picking off large pieces of debris and cleaning the carunculas (cool word had to use it). Then it
was time, to put it all back in.
The cow was hobbled to prevent her from leaving and gloves
where donned. The procedure was comparable to stuffing a turkey, but on a
larger scale. You weren't allowed to have any leftovers- it all had to go back
in. The cow, however didn't want the large protuberance to be shoved back in.
She had a much different idea, of pushing it all back out. Time after time the
vet and I struggled, pushing on this fleshy monstrosity, trying to get the
uterus back inside, past and over the anatomical cliff of the pelvis, and
settle back into place. Each time we thought we'd succeeded, the cow would give
a mighty push, and out would plop the uterus once again. Eventually we did
managed to push it in one final time and have it stay. That was when the
veterinarian said these words:
"Emergency, temporary and shoe lace"… So like any good
assistant, I removed my shoe lace and watched in uncertainty and fascination,
as he set forth sterilizing the lace and stitched it into the cows vulva. An
image that cannot be removed from my mind. At the end of the procedure,
following a large dose of antibiotics, the veterinarian packed up and without
saying a word walked away. I sat with cow for a while, like she was a victim of
some sort of personal violation. She appeared to be recovering from this
traumatic event. I gently covered her baby with a blanket, the least I could do
and I too walked away.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Three legs and a wiffle ball bat.
My hands are shaking. Why? Expectations. Who am I writing for? For myself mostly. But also for my friends and family, who often request of me, "You've got to write about your experiences at work! Your stories are hilarious!"
In all honesty I have always longed to write, but let's face it, I’m not a good writer. My grammar is terrible, my spelling even worse. If this was just you and me, standing in my kitchen and I was telling you a story, I could make it great. Filled with laughter and seriousness, hand gestures and funny noises. I may even get up a run around the room as I act out some parts. You would laugh, I would laugh and it would be great fun. I want to share my stories with more than just the occasional friend in my kitchen. But stories are so much more than words. How do I convey the actions too, that when put together with the words, give you an image. I want to share my stories with the world. I hope my written words can put you there into story with me, seeing it, feeling it and maybe even loving it as much as I did.
My first story dates back to 2005, the year I first started working as an Animal Control Officer.
As an animal control officer I run a lot of “Check the Welfare” type calls. These are the calls where a person reports to us that they have seen something they think is suspicious or perhaps even inhumane, in the way their neighbor is caring for their animals. Sometimes these calls are legitimate and other times unfounded. The situation will go something like this: The neighbor reporting is over reacting, nosy and hates the animal owner (because really his dog barks all night, which is not the complaint he is actually making) and therefore reports some crazy complaint to us, so that we will go over and make the animal owners life a little harder. OR the neighbor reporting is 100% right and the animals owner, who is nuts, is not providing the animals with proper care and now the animals are suffering. To someone is bat shit crazy, the reporting party or the animal owner. It’s up to me to determine the truth. Sometimes this job has nothing to do with the welfare of animals, but everything to do with being a mediator between two people who have nothing better to do than snoop and do everything in their power to make misery for others.
Mediation and patience can make all the difference.
The call brings me around to a farm that is home to a number of backyard ponies. My first glance around reveals nothing unusual. The horses seem well cared for. There is water in the trough and the horses are happily munching clover in the pasture. But then my eye catches on a short, squat little palomino pony who seems to have a, well, rather unusual accoutrement attached to his back leg. I can't quite put my finger on it, but from a distance it appears that the fellow has a prosthetic leg. How unusual, I thought. In my experience, horses with severe leg injuries are humanely euthanized as a matter of course. To recuperate a horse with a severe leg injury can be a monumental task. To successfully attach a prosthetic leg would be nothing short of a miracle. This was truly a work a veterinary genius! How could I not have read about this case in the veterinary literature?
Eager to examine the prosthesis up close, I gently whistled to get the pony's attention. Up goes his head, ears pricked and nostrils flaring slightly as he sized me up, trying to work out who I was and whether I had a carrot to offer him for the trouble of crossing the pasture to greet me. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaves his grazing and starts ambling towards me. I patiently await his approach, all the while admiring the ease with which he uses the prosthesis. Amazing work of veterinary surgery, I muse, as the pony draws nearer. I'm getting a better look now. The prosthesis appears to be orange in color. Obviously an attempt to match the color of the animal's coat! A thoughtful touch. And fascinating! Finally the little guy halts in front of me. I ease up next to him, gently laying my hand on his back and, stooping low I run my hand across his rump, over his flank and then down along the prosthetic leg. For a moment my mind couldn't quite grasp what I was seeing. It looks like..., but no, it can't be... A wiffle ball bat? An orange, plastic whiffle ball bat. The type that children play ball with! This miracle of veterinary science was actually made by Mattel!
There is nothing quite so amazing than to see a pony that can live with three legs and a wiffle ball bat.The bat was carefully lined with cotton and crafted fit over the stump of the leg. This was no profound feat of veterinary surgery, but merely the creative genius of the imaginative owner of Prince. Prince, whose mother rolled over on him, breaking his leg when he was just days old. Prince, a pony so beloved by his owner, that she was willing to go thru extraordinary lengths to give a three legged colt a chance at life.
Eager to examine the prosthesis up close, I gently whistled to get the pony's attention. Up goes his head, ears pricked and nostrils flaring slightly as he sized me up, trying to work out who I was and whether I had a carrot to offer him for the trouble of crossing the pasture to greet me. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaves his grazing and starts ambling towards me. I patiently await his approach, all the while admiring the ease with which he uses the prosthesis. Amazing work of veterinary surgery, I muse, as the pony draws nearer. I'm getting a better look now. The prosthesis appears to be orange in color. Obviously an attempt to match the color of the animal's coat! A thoughtful touch. And fascinating! Finally the little guy halts in front of me. I ease up next to him, gently laying my hand on his back and, stooping low I run my hand across his rump, over his flank and then down along the prosthetic leg. For a moment my mind couldn't quite grasp what I was seeing. It looks like..., but no, it can't be... A wiffle ball bat? An orange, plastic whiffle ball bat. The type that children play ball with! This miracle of veterinary science was actually made by Mattel!
There is nothing quite so amazing than to see a pony that can live with three legs and a wiffle ball bat.The bat was carefully lined with cotton and crafted fit over the stump of the leg. This was no profound feat of veterinary surgery, but merely the creative genius of the imaginative owner of Prince. Prince, whose mother rolled over on him, breaking his leg when he was just days old. Prince, a pony so beloved by his owner, that she was willing to go thru extraordinary lengths to give a three legged colt a chance at life.
It’s been 8 years since I first met the three legged pony named Prince. Last month I went back to the property where the he lives.
Prince 2014 |
wiffle ball bat |
Prince 2006 |
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Step One: Try
Let me first say that this Blog if mine is an experiment. And as experiments sometimes go, this one may produce an amazing work of literature, or a giant, sulfurous belch. It's my attempt to share a small piece of my life with you, dear readers. I imagine that I'm not the first person to desire to, and yet to hesitate to, write down my thoughts. After all, I know that this could be a disaster, because, I forewarn all of you, my writing will be full of run on sentences, grammatical errors and topics that you might not like to hear about. But what I hope I can portray to you is.... an image of me. My perspective on the world. A glimpse into what my life is like, and of how all the animals and people I have encountered along life's path have taught me how to listen, humbled and amazed me, and in the end, molded me into the person I am.
Now that's not to say that some of these encounters haven't left me scratching my head, or quite often skeedattling like hell, in a zig - zag formation, right back to the safety of my truck! You see, no matter how helpful, no matter how generous, kind hearted or willing to risk my own neck I try to be, some animals, and most people, just don't want to be assisted, helped, saved, or rescued. As a matter of fact, I would say more often then not, I get bit, scratched, run over, knocked down, knocked out, sprayed or shat upon for my troubles. And that's just by the citizens! Often the animals are even ruder!
So here we go. I'll write when I can. Which hopefully will be once a week. Ill post photos. I wont be able to put anything up that is an open investigation. But I have enough to say that I think and hope I can entertain you with my experiences.
Thank you,
Now that's not to say that some of these encounters haven't left me scratching my head, or quite often skeedattling like hell, in a zig - zag formation, right back to the safety of my truck! You see, no matter how helpful, no matter how generous, kind hearted or willing to risk my own neck I try to be, some animals, and most people, just don't want to be assisted, helped, saved, or rescued. As a matter of fact, I would say more often then not, I get bit, scratched, run over, knocked down, knocked out, sprayed or shat upon for my troubles. And that's just by the citizens! Often the animals are even ruder!
So here we go. I'll write when I can. Which hopefully will be once a week. Ill post photos. I wont be able to put anything up that is an open investigation. But I have enough to say that I think and hope I can entertain you with my experiences.
Thank you,
Running At Large
At large
The dictionary
definitions of "at large" are broad and inclusive:
- Miriam‑ Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 654 (10th
ed.2001) defines "at large" as "free of restraint or
confinement."
- Black's Law Dictionary 122 (7th ed.1999) defines
"at large" as "[f]ree; unrestrained; not under
control."
- Furthermore, American Jurisprudence defines
"running at large" as "strolling, without restraint or
confinement, as wandering, roving and rambling at will without
restraint." 4 Am.Jur.2d Animals § 50 at 390 (1995)
As an Animal Control Officer, I have always related to the term Running At Large. Perhaps some small part of me has always been
running. Not in a bad way, and not running AWAY certainly. The words
“Free of restraint or confinement” and “Strolling”, invoke a feeling of freedom
and the ability to do something without limits and that is truly satisfying. That there is something out there-for me-and I’m determined to keep running towards it. So I'm going to keep running at large and maybe I'll find something--GREAT!
The literal interpretation of running at large, where it pertains to animals, isn't nearly as romantic as the definition makes it sound, at least in the county I
live and work in. The idea of pets being prevented from "wandering, roving and rambling" and being "free of confinement ", brings to mind a sad eyed black lab standing behind a chain link kennel, longing for a lost and beloved master, a sad song by Sarah McLachlan playing in the back ground. But laws are written to give people a standard of what is to be expected, and it is my job to make sure that those rules, however restrictive, are obeyed for the well being of our four legged friends.
RUNNING AT LARGE.
It shall be unlawful for any owner or custodian
to allow any dog to run at large. The Animal Control Officer shall enforce the
provisions of this chapter. Any person, who permits his dog to run at large, or
remain unconfined, unrestricted or not penned up and off the property of the
owner or custodian, shall be deemed in violation of this section.
I have worked as an animal control officer for 8 years. I
don’t claim to know it all. Far from it. I learn something new every day. My
interpretation of the law and of humane handling of animals is taken very
seriously. Over the years officer discretion makes the job, well, more bearable and less disheartening, and fun.
This job isn't the hardest and certainly not the easiest. But on a good day it is the most rewarding thing I have ever done. I hope to share some of this with
you.
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