I Love My Job

Last week Wild Will came in - he's an elderly man who is bipolar and has some major thyroid problems. He lives in a shack with his 12 dogs, all dobermans. He's always crusty and smells and shouts because his hearing's pretty bad. And he always likes to tell people he's bipolar and often suicidal - he'll say while looking you straight in the eye. That week, he brought someone with him. Clean, tall, pleasant-looking young guy - Ray. Good voice, good handshake. Gave Will a ride to clinic. I sat down next to Will and asked how he and Ray were acquainted but Will was coy and wouldn't say. He left for the bathroom and Ray explained that he worked at the Humane Society and investigated animal cruelty. He first met Will because of his 12 dobermans and had to make sure every dog was being properly fed and taken care of. Of course, they weren't, so Ray decided that he'd check up on Wild Will regularly, make sure the dogs were OK. Turns out that not only was Will unable take care of the dogs, he couldn't take care of himself. His health was failing and soon went into respite care. So? Ray decides to take Will into his home, to take care of him and his dogs. Stinky old cantankerous wild wild Will. He has bad hygiene. He's a little crazy, officially. His med schedule is a nightmare. He comes with 12 other bodies that need care. But Ray and his young wife are taking this old man into their home to be his family, at least while they can. Why? Ray says, "Because we know it's the right thing to do."

Some days, the human race amazes me. This was one of those days - I was optimistic about my existence and I was thankful to have a "ball-and-chain" that gave me the chance to meet Will and Ray. I love my job.