Paws before Hands
Flipping through the telly channels, I came across a video of a small, big-eyed puppy, not longer than twelve inches, nor taller than half a foot, scurrying fast away to meet its’ owner with its mouth poised ready to administer those slobbery wet affectionate kisses. As the owner, slowly begins to ruffle the velvet soft fur, a wide smile spreads across the owners’ already wet slippery face. However, as soon as the owner rises their hand to smite that small big-eyed puppy: the once velvety fur begins to find its’ way on to the floor, the once affectionate kisses, no longer met the owner’s face. What heartless person would live to see an animal suffer? How cold are the hearts of those who will not see the smiles, feel the warmth that these animals bring into our world? I strongly believe that animals should be free, and should not suffer, because we decide that they are not worthy of our time.
Growing up in East Africa, Uganda, loving an animal was something I was told not to do. We were to treat them as animals, things that had no feelings: They were animals, just emotionless things. Times, I had watched people chase and a time beat their pets, if they dared enter the house or eat off their plates. I was completely naïve about the whole situation, of how horribly most animals were treated. I had not really cared much about the way animals were treated until the day I hit my dog with a stick [aged 8]. That look in his eyes, said everything, I had lost his trust. The dark eyes had lost their lustre, the velvet fur that I was so used to ruffling every day after school, was part and ragged.
Hit by the pangs of guilt, I could not think of a way to justify it. Every day after school, I would go by his kennel, and just sit for hours, lost in thought all the while giving him my supper. Days later, I watched a show where a dog gave birth to a healthy litter, but died due to complications in labour. I could not bare to think about that dead animal that would never take care of its litter. I could not bare to think of those tiny vulnerable dogs that would never suckle the vitamin A, enriched milk that came from the warm mammary glands of their mother. Those two moments paved the path for my future: I knew there and then that I wanted my life after university to be with animals. I wanted to save the mothers of newly born litters, so they [the litters] would never be raised without the love and sweet caresses from their mothers. I did not choose to want to pursue a career in the field of veterinary; my dog chose it for me, the death of that dog in the video, made it all the while clear that I had to be the voice for the innocent ones.
There are days when my friends ask me why I want to be a veterinarian, “How can you stand to be around the smell, how can you bare to put an animal to sleep,” they say. I forever will always reply, “How can I bare to see an animal suffer, yet I know the solution to rid it of its troubles; if I do not, will you?”
I have prepared myself, to the best of my ability to know how to handle myself in a situation in which an animal may require help. I grew up on a farm during my childhood: immunising, cleaning the living quarters. All I have left on my agenda, to accomplish my dream is to go off to University.
If all goes well, I hope to be able to donate money to many animal organisations and to build an animal rescue centre, fully equipped with a hospital, and a hotel for the animals; so, they will get to experience the meaning of love and affection. Many people will choose hands before paws, but I am sticking to my belief “PAWS BEFORE HANDS!.”

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