It's funny how the little things can keep you sane, and Brero is definitely one of those little things. A lot of my friends know about him - in that I have mentioned him in passing - but I don't think they think about him much. When they think of me, they probably don't think about my imaginary dog friend that I call my "daemon". I myself sometimes have difficulty remembering him. Or, to be more accurate, I find it difficult to project him and concentrate on other people at the same time. It's something that we have decided to work on together, because I'd really like to see and hear his comments about what other people say and do to me. When I was much younger, only 14 or so, I could see him easily while going about school, and talking to my friends. As I got older, though, my imagination became less practiced and I see him much less. As it is now, I tend to only see him and speak to him when I am alone in a room, or at least when I am not interacting with anybody. Our newest project is for me to try and remember to work on projecting him during more difficult situations - when I'm talking to people or busy concentrating on something.

So I started a new job this week, and it is TERRIBLE. I am a veterinary technician, and I left a very warm and positive veterinary environment in Nova Scotia when I moved out west. My new job is the opposite of warm in positive. In fact, I was horrified by the negative staff atmosphere and the complete lack of quality medical care provided there. They are hideously disorganized - they actually spayed the wrong dog on my first day there - and there aren't nearly enough staff around. Most of the working technicians are not actually technicians at all. They are simply lay people who have been trained up by vets and other staff. This is like having a big hospital full of nurses who have never actually been to nursing school. It's not uncommon in veterinary practices, because there simply aren't enough skilled techs to go around, but it only really works when the veterinarians are there to keep an eye on the staff and make sure they don't do anything incorrectly. That does not happen at this clinic. In fact, one of the quack techs has worked there for 13 years, is convinced that she knows everything about everything, and is constantly doing things that I would have been flunked for doing at vet tech school.

On top of it all, this woman is openly rude to the veterinarians, sometimes refuses to do the things that they ask because she says she "doesn't have the time", and she yells at me if I try and do something right, instead of doing it her way. You can imagine what a hellish work environment it is, and the only reason that I haven't quit is because the veterinary corporation that hired me only JUST bought this practice. The guy who hired me assured me in an email that they have big plans for this clinic and encouraged me to "hang in there". So I am trying, I really, really, am. But when you spend your WHOLE day repeating x-rays because your evil coworker won't let you touch two of the most important settings on the x ray machine ("Those settings have worked for me for 13 years, so just don't touch them." Oh, yeah, you have to take the same x-ray two or three times before you get it right, and everyone in the clinic thinks that this is normal. Leaving the machine at 10 mAs works REALLY well) and all the time feeling SO homesick for your old boss, your old coworkers... you really just want to take off your iron smock, say "I've had enough" and just walk out never to return.

I had job offers from the local emergency clinic, who offered me more money and would practice MUCH better medicine, but if I took that job I would never see Benn again, because we'd be working completely different shifts, and I'd be going to bed just as he was getting up to go to work. Besides, if the guy who hired me is right, and they do have big changes planned for this clinic, they probably need a couple of trained technicians around to make sure things are done right. So I am trying. But I hate it.

In the midst of all the running around, and frustration, and despair, and homesickness, and busyness... I would suddenly remember Brero. And there he would be, sniffing at my patients, growling at the evil coworker, or simply pushing his muzzle into my hand in sympathy. It would be like a drink of water in the desert. It's hard to explain, but it's like... I would realize that my mind has a way of taking me out of all of this mess. I have my own self, and my own resources, and nothing that they say or do can change this or take it away from me.

Like I said, it's the small things that keep you sane. And just for a moment, pausing to pay attention to my daemon, would be that small thing.