Oogy The Dog Only a Family Could Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

had more than one technician who rode with outlaw motorcycle gangs. I’ve had technicians who were literally incapable of speaking to my clients. Diane is a special blend of animal lover and people person. She is so dedicated to helping animals that she is very demanding of the staff.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t say the staff is afraid of her, but they certainly have a very healthy respect for her. The thing is, she is no more demanding of the staff than she is of herself.”
    By her own admission, Diane would make a lousy animal rights advocate. “It must be the Italian in me. I have no tolerance for people who abuse animals. I’m not capable of reasoning with them. I couldn’t deal with these people rationally. But then, there’s nothing rational about them.” She laughed. “I’d go after them with a hammer.”
    Monday, December 16, 2002, was the second anniversary of the death of Diane’s all-time favorite dog, Maddie, a Staffordshire terrier–bulldog mix that had been with Diane for thirteen years, ultimately succumbing to cancer. The night before, she and her husband had looked at some videos of the dog. At first, they had laughed at Maddie’s antics, but eventually their sense of loss overcame them, and they had cried and comforted each other. On the drive to work that Monday morning, Diane was unable to stop thinking of Maddie, remembering favorite moments. She felt down, a bit distracted.
    Diane turned onto the quiet, tree-lined street where the hospital is located in an old Victorian-style home. At the time, AAH carried a staff of six doctors and eight to ten technicians. The hospital also offered the services of two animal specialists one night a week. In addition, AAH leased its facilities and equipment to an after-hours and weekend emergency service owned and operated by two doctors who utilized the hospital’s facilities but were not on staff.
    Diane parked behind the hospital. As she did every morning, she came in through the back door, and as she did every morning, the first place she went was the treatment room, where hospitalized and surgical cases were housed, to see if any animals had come in through the ER.
    The room was painted in hues of beige and brick and smelled like isopropyl alcohol and adhesive tape. Against the far wall from the entrance were two tiers of three small cages sitting on top of two larger cages. Additional cages lined the two walls on either side; an oxygen cage also sat to the right of the entrance to the room. The bottom of each cage was carpeted with shredded newspaper and had built-in dishes for water and food. Medical instruments were stocked in the drawers of a stainless-steel examination table that stood in the center of the room.
    The first thing Diane saw as she entered the room was a white pup lying in one of the small cages against the opposite wall. His head was on the floor between his paws. The left half of his skull was swathed in white gauze stained with blood, held in place by adhesive tape. The pup’s body was spotted with dark, dried blood. Bloody, pus-filled holes and gashes covered the side of his face and the part of his skull not obscured by the bandage. Diane began to seethe as it became apparent to her that the ER had basically done nothing for the poor animal. They had not even bothered to clean off his blood. As soon as Diane walked into the room, the pup lifted his head and his right ear stood at attention; his large, dark eyes looked at her, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. As she stood there transfixed, the dog struggled to his feet, sneezed, and shook his head. Blood droplets sprayed from under the bandage. Then, incredibly, he started to wag his tail.
    Diane walked over to the cage past one of the ER physicians, who was standing in the room focusing on some sort of paperwork. She bent and stared at the pup, her nose only inches from his. The pup appeared to be a pit bull or a pit bull mix, but it was difficult to tell exactly