I started my “career” in Animal Care & Control due the fact I was an unemployable drunk.

Yep, you read that right. During my first few months of sobriety, while incredibly bat shit crazy and emotional, the only place that would “have me” was the dog pound. As a volunteer. And by volunteer I mean community service.  Note to others, do NOT bite, use your words, with State Patrol. I tell this to the dogs now a lot, “don’t tell me no with your teeth please!

I had found my calling! When the winery I worked for went under, I somehow managed to slither into a part time, 15 hour a week, minimum wage kennel tech job. AKA Poop Scooper. On weekends and holidays. Lucky me!

Fast forward 7 years, (Still sober FYI) and due to the fact that NOBODY wants to be an Animal Control Officer and I made my way to Director before the age of 30. Honestly, I’m not sure how. I’m insanely disorganized, more than socially awkward, I can honestly say 99.9% of the time I do NOT look presentable, and I’m a hermit. Now that I can read that back, it sounds like most animal professionals I know of. Maybe those endearing traits should be listed on a job application as “Skills related to the job”.

I love to hate my job. But that’s a whole ‘nother story. It’s the story of my life. Everyday. Like Groundhog Day. I also hate that I love my job. Did I mention scatterbrained?