Veterinarians, what’s your most memorable day on the job?

The Search and the Second Surgery

One day after a long and stressful shift, I came home to find that Zeus wasn’t waiting for me at the door. My heart sank immediately.

I called his name, but there was no response. I searched the house growing more frantic with each passing second, but Zeus was nowhere to be found.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out how he could have gotten out. I checked every door and every window.

Then I saw a small gap in the backyard fence, barely noticeable but just big enough for Zeus to slip through.

I was freaking out inside as I ran out into the yard calling his name.

I ran up and down the street knocking on neighbors’ doors, asking if anyone had seen him.

As I rushed past my neighbor’s house, I noticed an elderly woman who lived next door standing on her porch watering her plants.

She was always outside tending to her garden or sitting on her porch. If anyone had seen something, it would be her.

I hurried over and asked her if she had seen Zeus. She paused and then nodded.

She had seen Zeus just moments ago by the old oak tree at the end of the street. Without wasting another second, I turned and ran to the oak tree.

But when I got there, there was nothing. No sign of Zeus.

I called his name repeatedly, but he didn’t appear. I searched around the tree, checked the bushes, and even peered into the nearby yards. Still nothing.

I made my way back to the elderly woman’s house. I needed more details. “What did the dog look like?”

But when I asked, she admitted that she hadn’t had her glasses on at the time.

Her vision wasn’t clear and she couldn’t say for certain if it had been Zeus. I asked my other neighbors if they had seen Zeus anywhere, but no one had.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I needed to calm down to think clearly, but the fear was overwhelming.

The thought of losing Zeus forever was unbearable. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

I felt this cold dread settle over me as I realized that he was out there somewhere alone and scared.

Night fell and I was still out searching for him. I called out his name into the darkness, but there was no sign of him.

I didn’t sleep that night. I just kept thinking about Zeus out there in the cold, maybe hurt, maybe lost.

I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt for not noticing the gap in the fence, for not keeping him safe.

The next morning, I printed out flyers with Zeus’s picture and distributed them all over the neighborhood.

I called every shelter and every vet’s office hoping that someone had found him. But the days passed and there was no word.

Zeus had vanished. I was heartbroken.

The house felt so empty without him. I missed his little quirks and the way he’d follow me around.

I missed the way he’d curl up beside me or how he’d chase someone on TV depending on where on the screen they were.

I missed his energy so much it was hard to function without him.

I couldn’t believe that after everything we’d been through, after all the progress he’d made, he was just gone.

Then, a week after he disappeared, I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was from a shelter about 30 miles away.

Someone had found Zeus wandering the streets and brought him in. I couldn’t believe it.

I jumped in my car and drove to the shelter as fast as I could.

When I walked in, I saw Zeus curled up in a corner looking exhausted and dirty.

He looked so small and vulnerable, and my heart broke all over again. But when he saw me, his eyes lit up.

He struggled to his feet, wagging his tail weakly. I rushed over and scooped him up, holding him close as tears fell down my face.

He was safe. He was back.

The ride home was quiet. Zeus was so tired that he just curled up in the passenger seat and slept the whole way.

When we got home, I gave him a warm bath, cleaned his fur, and fed him a special meal.

He ate slowly. He was clearly still worn out from his ordeal, but I could see the relief in his eyes.

He was home and he knew it. After that scare, I fixed up the backyard fence making sure there were no more gaps or weak spots.

I also started being more careful with Zeus. I kept a closer eye on him whenever we were outside.

I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again. But just when I thought things were getting back to normal, Zeus started acting strangely.

He was lethargic, didn’t want to eat, and seemed uncomfortable. My first thought was that he might be coming down with something.

So I took him to the clinic for a full checkup. What I found was far worse than I expected.

Zeus had a life-threatening piece of plastic that got stuck in his intestines. My heart dropped when I saw the x-rays.

It was likely caused by something he swallowed while he was missing. The only option was surgery and it had to happen fast.

The thought of performing such a delicate procedure on my own dog was terrifying. But I knew I had to do it.

I had saved him once before. I could do it again.

That night, I prepped the surgery room. I kept telling myself that Zeus was a fighter, that he’d pulled through worse before.

But as I started the surgery, the fear haunted me. This was different.

Every cut and every stitch felt like a weight on my chest. The surgery was long and there were moments when I doubted myself.

But I tried to push through. I looked over at the clock and it was 3:00 in the morning.

I had performed this surgery on him for hours and the fatigue was beginning to set in.

Just when I thought I couldn’t make it, I slammed an energy drink and kept going.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I removed the blockage. I carefully stitched Zeus up.

Then I sat by his side and monitored him closely. The hours that followed were some of the longest of my life.

I barely slept, watching his vitals and praying that he’d wake up and be okay.

The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the monitors. I sat beside Zeus.

My eyes were heavy from exhaustion but I couldn’t tear them away from him. He was lying so still.

His tiny chest rose and fell ever so slightly. The surgery had taken everything out of both of us and now all I could do was wait.