All my life I've been around animals, and had pets, and wanted to, eventually, do "something" with animals. From age 14 to 17, I worked at a nearby veterinary clinic as a cattery assistant on an after school/weekends basis. That job was my first real foray into animal care on a larger scale than one or two animals at a time, and I loved every minute of it. I still remember a lot of the clients fondly, and have great memories of the regular cats that used to board. The vets (A husband-and-wife pair with two small boys) were very kind to me, and taught me a lot, but my main teachers were the cats I worked with.
Over the three years I worked there, I came to understand cat body language and cat social protocol about as well as anyone could be expected to. Since it was neutral territory and everything smelled the same, the cats got on remarkably well together, with no major fights while I was there. The cattery could house thirty cats in the main area, with an additional three cages in a small side room off the attached kitchen, and an isolation room with eight small cages and three large cages in the main vet building, which was separate. The most cats I had in my solitary care at any one time was 35, over a particularly busy Christmas period, but even then, they all got along with only the occasional hiss or swipe. Some even worked together, most notably a pair of young Burmese sisters, who worked out that I couldn't stop TWO cats from getting through the door into the kitchen if I was also carrying stuff, and exploited this every time they came to stay, even though the most they got was ten seconds in a different closed room.
Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. A lot of the cats didn't particularly appreciate the notion of "bedtime", and were remarkably adept at avoiding me when it came time to put each cat in its cage at night. A few cats that stayed with us were diabetic, and so it became necessary for me to learn how to give subcutaneous injections of insulin once I'd been working there a year. I remember practicing my first injection on a small black cat, and being terrified that the saline would hurt him, even though the main source of trouble was that the cat was purring so much and rubbing its head on my arm so enthusiastically that he wouldn't hold still. I'm sure I was a lot more distressed than he was over the whole procedure, and it took me some time to get used to the idea that I wasn't going to kill some poor cat with my inefficient jabbing. Luckily for me, the cats were all very well aware of the routine, and never gave me trouble, so I was able to improve my technique and my confidence without dealing with an angry cat at the same time.
There was also one cat who suffered a stroke while in my care. She was a 14-year-old tabby, and had been sitting outside, and came stumbling and weaving her way to the main area, heading towards her bottom-level cage. I remember she walked right into the other cat from her family, which told me right away that something was badly wrong. I called the vet immediately and he came to pick her up, taking her home for the night. Unfortunately, she didn't make it. I spent a long time wondering whether the other cat from her family had realized something was wrong when she crashed into him, and whether he regretted hissing at her. It was my first brush with death, and all I could think of was that I wished I'd been able to do more for her.
I also spent another six months working at a second cattery after moving house, and being unable to find an efficient way to get to my previous clinic. This clinic was much the same, though I also got to do some of the odd jobs around the main building - filling up equipment areas, looking after the hospital animals, and generally tidying up. While I wasn't there long - only until I started university - I enjoyed my time there as well, and hope to put the skills I learned there to good use.
For my formal education, I gained university entrance in sixth form, but attended seventh form for the additional learning and time with my friends, most of whom also attended seventh form. Once that was completed, I spent some time at University, where I attempted a Bachelor's of Science, majoring in biology. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent to me that this was not what I wanted to do. While I enjoyed the courses, I couldn't see a point to it all - there was nothing to aim for, just a progression of unrelated courses and a misty blankness when I considered what I'd do next. I left after a year and a half, and worked full time at a supermarket for a while. Eventually I found my current course offered at another nearby institute, and jumped at the chance.
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