This is a story of my first ‘oh my gosh I am going to be a vet’ moment. It happened years ago, back when I was only a term into my vet degree.
I was home for a weekend visiting my family. Partly because they were missing me (I had moved away from home to attend vet school), but mostly because I was already sick of dining hall food; and BOY can my parents cook!
The horrible state of mass-produced food for teenagers aside – I had decided I would spend some quality time with my sisters while I was home by taking them bowling. It’s a strange feeling having to arrange ‘quality time’ with people that you have spent, quite literally, an entire lifetime growing up with. But mature Zachary was going to do things right! Keeping with my new-found mature nature I had decided I would call my mother after bowling to see if I had to pick anything up from the shops; and this is how we get to a situation involving two cats, a lady with ailurophobia (a fear of cats), and one very clumsy, and now embarrassed, cat owner.
Seeing Practice 