Love at First Bite - My Badges of Honour

I've had my share of animal bites and have the scars to prove it.  Some have been my fault, others not, and the rest lie somewhere in between.

Not counting the little snaps or nibbles that I received as a child from our various dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs and hamsters, I definitely got the most bites just after high school when I worked as a vet nurse for a few years.

It was fun - hard work and emotional but it provided a great learning curve.  I learned a lot about animal behaviour and learned how to read body language better.  Not that it always helps at a vet, it's such a stressful place for animals, and even worse when they are in pain.  I never got angry at a dog or cat for biting me - obviously I should have done my job better and done more to protect both of us.

I recall a really gorgeous cat that was admitted to get some sort of routine surgery.  I happily took her from her owner's arms and walked her to the back kennel area, listening to her purr and be quite a sociable creature.  The minute we turned the corner into the room, a large dog let out a massive 'woof'!  Well, that did it, the poor cat reacted - quite rightfully - by jumping from my loose grip and clamping down with all of her might on the fleshy bit between my thumb and my first finger.  And she did not want to let go.  Eventually I calmed her down enough to let go, held her properly and popped her into her cage.  She was fine after having the fright of her life.  My hand wasn't fine.  Anyone that has been bitten by a cat knows that it's more of a puncture wound, bleeding little from a deep hole. I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure that one got infected.

The Learning Curve

I've had other cats lash out with their claws and manage to just hit a vein, causing a massive haematoma on the back of my hand.  One such injury was bestowed upon me by one of my previous cats, Purrcie, who had expressed his anal glands all over himself.  I tried to put him in the sink and wash it off - he wasn't happy.  My  hand paid the price.  But I got him washed in the end, literally.

Some of my more interesting animal injuries have been from exotic animals.  After volunteering for over 6 years in Canada and about the same in Australia, I've been exposed to a lot of really amazing and cool animals.  My very first day volunteering in Canada led to my first monkey bite, inflicted by a very cranky capuchin.  I had run out of the meal worms that I was feeding her and she was displeased.  A quick pinch-bite to my forearm, and we were off to the office to fill out paperwork and assure everyone that a bite wasn't that big a deal.  In fact, she didn't even puncture the skin, but gave such a good pinch that the bruise spread to almost the whole length of my inner forearm and developed into a rainbow of colours.  Knowing capuchins better now than I did then, it doesn't surprise me - they aren't to be trusted.

Do. Not. Trust.  But how cute is he?!

The good thing about volunteering at a zoo is that there is no direct contact with any animal that is really dangerous, so I was never worried about getting badly injured.  I worked with great keepers who always had my safety in mind - perhaps not my dignity, but definitely my safety.

Not bitten by one of these so far!

I recall one keeper, who shall remain unnamed but knows who he is, literally rolling on the ground in the middle of the crowded zoo, laughing hysterically at me.  We had been in cleaning the guanaco exhibit (related to llamas and alpacas), and I had been playing with the baby, who was gorgeous and loved attention.  Those big brown eyes, those eyelashes - oh, be still my heart. Mum guanaco also had a nice nature and was partial to a bit of a scratch.  As we had finished cleaning, I was hopping over the wooden fence to carry on with my day.  Mum came up to me, and I probably got my face a bit too close as I went in for one last scratch.  For those that know llamas and alpacas, you can guess what happened next.  A really big, slimy, gritty, juicy mouthful of guanaco spit landed solidly in the middle of my face.  Oh Lord, the smell!  It certainly entertained all of the families that were drawn to our new baby, and it CERTAINLY entertained the keeper that I worked with.  He ran faster than I've ever seen him run up to the lunchroom to tell everyone what had happened to me.  I'd like to think that my ripe aroma was enrichment for all of the other animals that I worked with that day.  My cats were certainly intrigued when I got home.

Cute baby guanaco

 

Guanaco spit - not cute.

I have also seen a very lovely meerkat that was very friendly and sociable with the keepers (she couldn't be with the other meerkats because they attacked her) latch onto a young someone's nose and pierce it for him.  Fortunately all of us animal people never get cranky about a bit unless it's due to someone else's negligence.

Hey, look at me!

One of my very favourite types of monkeys are marmosets.  They are personable, fun, crazy and reasonably easy to look after - as far as primates go.  Their curiosity knows no bounds, which makes it easy to enrich their exhibits or keep them entertained.  They are like cats or kids though - when they get a bit too over-excited, you need to watch out!  They have tiny little mouths but sharp little teeth and can give you a nice little bite.  I've had some little 'hickeys' on my neck from them, plus a few scratches on my face where they swipe at you when they are wound up.  If they are playful, they don't do much damage, but I've seen them angry when they are being caught for medical treatment or to move to a new exhibit, and they can be fierce.

Look closer.

Even my chickens have a crack when they're broody.  Sticking a hand under a broody chicken to check for an egg can be enough to increase my heart rate, and they have managed to draw blood on my hand before.  I think broody chickens are like women with PMS.  Respect them and be wary.  And, please, leave them in peace!

As I get older, I can't see the number of bites that I get decreasing unless I was totally pet-less, like that's every going to happen!  Purrkins manages to get me at least once a week during one of our many play sessions, and has a jaw like a vice. I do a small celebratory dance any week that I manage to change the sheets on the bed and escape dotting them with blood.

Beware of cat.

I wear all of my scars as badges of honour.  They only exist because I have been truly blessed by the animals that I have shared my life with - not that they have bitten or scratched me, but that I have interacted with them in some way.  I  have been fortunate to have been raised in a family that treasures animals (and are addicted to them a little bit, I think!) and to marry a man that not only tolerates my love of animals, but embraces it as well.  I have been doubly blessed by the two zoos that I have volunteered at, and the wonderful keepers that allowed me to interact and learn, while still picking up mountains of poo.  Lots and lots of poo.  My raking and hosing skills would be nothing without them, nor would my memories be as treasured.


This pygmy marmoset may look evil, but he's shy.

I'm too chilled to bite.