Outside the mercury climbed above ninety on the Fahrenheit side of the thermometer. The building, however, was cool. Air conditioners drone away in the distance makling a soft thumping sound as if one of them is slightly off balance. At the end of the long hallway off the examining room stands a room, directly across form the doctors office is a room which is now unoccupied by any person. A fact that remains true for all but the last few minutes of every day when just before quitting time it comes to use.
The door is a plastic covered metal facsimile of wooden doors that traditionally would have hung in its place. Dark brown, it stands out against the lighter walls. At one time they were papered, rather poorly, with a white ribbed wall paper. Now the edges wee showing the signs of years of use. Thirsty sheet rock is laid bare in more than one place in the room by the deterioration of the wallpaper. Just inside the door a counter protrudes from the wall.
The Formica covered counter was made too look like a blue marble counter. Like so much of this room it has an unnaturalness about it. Designed so one person can stand with sink on their left and have a long counter in front of them. The counter too shows signs of years of usage. It is stained with blood and has several deep scratches in its glossy finish. Off the end of the counter is a large stainless steel tub.
A flexible spray nozzle mounted in the ceiling above the tub is used for keep it clean. The tub itself has a water spigot arrangement like many old-fashion cast-iron tubs which line the New England coastline. It sits in a pipe framework which holds this steel giant two feet off the floor. The tub itself measures three feet by eight and could easily contain a side of beef.
Against the other wall stands a storage cabinet. This tall tan cabinet would once have looked fine an any executives office. Now, however, the grime is so thick that even sand blasting could not remove it. The grime is a slow buildup of spilled floor wax, urine, dirt, and an occasional splattering of blood. Unlike its counterpart in the executives offices this one has a huge hasp crudely but very solidly attached to the front with a rather ominous padlock securing it. Behind that lock lies the key to the whole room.
Opening the doors reveals row after row of bottle. Plastic bottles about the size of a small thermos with silver caps are filled with blue liquid. Shaking would reveal that this liquid has about the same consistency as alcohol. A look at the label reveals far more about the purpose of this room. "Sodium Pentobarbital 1 grain" declares the label in red block lettering. Sodium Pentobarbital, sometimes called blue juice, is a controlled substance according to the FDA. A few teaspoons of this drug injected in the veins of animals brings about a sever depression of the central nervous system. After this drug reaches the brain animals no longer remember to breathe.
This room is the room that makes all animals equal. Fifi, Fido, Claws, Snoopy, and Morris, along with Thumper, and other pets all took their last breaths here with the assistance of Sodium Pentobarbital. Young, old, fast, and slow the ending is always the same and it is quick painless and permanent. So many stories lie mingled in the steel tub. The dog who bit a child, the cat who was hit by a car, the trusted family companion, and the hunters best bird dog all lie twisted unnaturally in a large pile.
Although I wish it was not so this little room drives many people from the practice of veterinary medicine. They see only that they cannot kill an animal which as a vet they may have to someday do but they overlook the hundreds of animals they could help each year by looking only into this room and not down the hall to the treatment room.