Another way to pepper my resume

I like animals.

I'm no dog lover who sports a golden retriever t-shirt, takes my purse poodle to work, or has an "I love shelties" coffee mug; and I don't have plans to acquire a large (as in more than 2) cat population when I'm middle-aged and still living by myself, but in general I'd say I appreciate the furry friends that most people call pets. If it smells alright and isn't too high-strung, I'll pet it on the head. I may even become affectionate. But if it smells funky, makes too much noise, gets hair all over my furniture or slobber all over my face, I'd rather not get too close. (I tend to feel the same way about men.)

Acknowledging my lack of animal affection, I told the nice man from Medix staffing agency that no, I am not an animal rights activist and as such I did not feel I would have a problem working for a non-clinical laboratory (aka. animal testing facility). I tend to think I have a relatively "thick skin" where things like lab testing and animal science are concerned. I enjoyed high school biology. I did all of the labs and dissections and was more or less amazed during our cytology unit. (Now, I did almost pass out that time I shadowed a nurse, but I attribute that to the combined smells of left over scrambled eggs, dirty dressings and rotting tissue - not my squeamish nature.) I even intended to take A&P while I was in college. So, when I was asked if I would be comfortable working at a facility where animal testing is conducted I didn't really think much of it. I was more concerned with the fact that the job would require commuting 30 miles (each way) and being chained to a desk 8 hours a day, five days a week.

During my second interview I met with the document management manager and two of the principle investigators/scientists, one of whom grilled me on my realtionship with animals. I think a crazed PETA member slipped their way into lab employment at some point, making the company suspicious of anyone without a substantial scientific background. I assured the man of science that, no, I am not a member of PETA. I do not attach human attributes to most animals, and though my family does indeed own a dog, I realize that Cody is no more human than the crickets I've been smashing in my basement. (I say these things, and assure myself that they are logically true, but my less empirical self feels otherwise.)

My third interview was actually on site, where I met with the president of the company (he's British - I confess this swayed my feelings about the job, significantly) and a few of the head scientists (they're not British, but one of them is Indian, which is acceptable). I represented myself rather well, assured them that I had no affiliations with animal protection agencies, attempted to convey a sincere interest in pharmacokinetics, and was offered the job four hours after I left. I'd like to say it was my impressive resume (which is smattered with "odd jobs" and "life experiences") and my winning personality that earned me position, but I'm pretty sure it was their desperate need for a copyeditor. I, with my four-year degree in Writing and Rhetorical studies (thank you NW for creating a major that I have to explain to everyone), am far more than qualified.

Monday (the 27th) was my first day on the job. I got a parking permit, a nifty little retractable name badge, and my very own cubicle. I haven't done a lot of "decorating," but I did throw up some photos within the first week. They remind me of the outside world (there isn't a window in our office), the exciting places I've been (to which I'd like to return), and the people I care about (and intend to speak with during my lunch break).

As I walked by Cube Row (the hallway in which all the lab techs are stationed...when they aren't in the lab, that is), I peaked over the green barriers, and noticed something rather strange. Alongside the family photos and nature calendars were posters showing the anatomy of the Beagle dog. I shrugged it off and introduced myself to the coffee station. During my grand tour of the facility, though, a disturbing wave washed over me as I passed large photos of disections, canisters of biohazardous material, and display board featuring the gross (you've got that right) necropsy of a Wistar rat. Maybe I should just keep to my cube.

But staying in my own little corner did little to keep me in blissful ignorance. It's my job to read and edit lab protocols and reports. I can't not know what's going on behind closed doors.

The rat studies didn't really phase me. Though the 44 pregnant females were going to be euthanized at the end of the study, it's all in the name of better pharmaceuticals and less hazardous chemical compounds being released into the world. I could even deal with the NHP (non-human primate) studies; many of which are done in order to track how long a compound stays in the body. It's the Beagle studies that really got to me.

All of the dogs used in our studies are Beagles (which also happens to be the nickname I have for my little sister) and have been selected as a breed that is docile in temperament and manageable in size. A number of our studies are done on "naieve" Beagles, which means that the animals haven't taken part in previous studies or life experiences. The animals are raised to be lab animals and don't know any other existence. A number of them (usually the ones that are going to be around for a while) come "debarked." I didn't know it was possible to debark a dog the way you declaw a cat and I was rather alarmed at the thought (even after the new vet assured me that the animals were fine). Some of them are tripped out "telemetered" Beagles, that have been surgically enhanced and are capable of automatically transmitting data. Having a telemetered dog is preferable to using jackets or tail cuffs, which "may cause distress to the animal" (but apparently surgery and large doses of toxic chemicals do not). On the upside, telemetered dogs are expensive, which means they usually get to stick around longer (for multiple studies) before being euthanized.

After my first week of work I called my mom and asked if I could talk to our dog. Suffice it to say, I do what I can to avoid the animal rooms.