Pregnant daughter came home and told me about her day last night over dinner. There’s a reason SwampMan will not eat dinner at the table when daughter, a vet tech with animal control, my mom, a retired R.N., and I are talking.
A pitbull bit a person and then died. Whether or not it was assisted on its way to the doggie afterlife I do not know, as I did not ask. Regardless of how it reached the great beyond, an animal control officer picked up the smelly deceased and stuck it in the freezer at animal control, for the head had to be removed and sent to the state lab to check for rabies.
Enter daughter, who had to thaw said dead doggie and decapitate same. The operating and EU rooms were in use, so the decapitation was to take place in the private (non-public access) parking lot. The deceased was defrosted and appropriately smelly. After cutting through the skin and muscle, the head is twisted and snapped off. Daughter laboriously cut through the thick muscles around the cervical spine. Daughter twisted. Head didn’t snap off. She twisted again. No snappage. She called another vet tech, a male, to help. Still no head separation. By this time, smelly bodily fluids were waaaaay beyond the rubber gloves and were running down the arms and onto the scrubs. A third male came in to help snap the neck. No luck.
Daughter was, by this time, cussing like a sailor. It was hot outside, she was miserable and pregnant, and her other tasks were backing up. Like her mom, she doesn’t have infinite patience. She threw the stinky dog body down in the parking lot, grabbed a pooper scooper shovel, and eventually successfully encouraged the head to separate from the body after stabbing it about 10 times, cussing the dog loudly the entire time. She grabbed the head and danced around the parking lot, shaking it at the other employees, ululating at the successful decapitation.
It was only then that she noticed the employees at the auto repair shop across the street staring.