|Dr. Lorie Huston, DVM (right) and me at BarkWorld in 2012.|
I thought immediately of Lorie Huston. I'd met Dr. Lorie at conferences and we'd kept in touch on social media ever since. With desperation at my back, I got her home number from the White Pages and left a message. She called a half hour later, but it was too late for Piewacket.
|Piewacket in better days.|
Birds go to the lowest level of their cage when they are nearing the end, Dr. Lorie explained. (Later, when I talked to Piewacket's owner, she confirmed that he'd been spending more time than usual on the bottom of his cage before I started pet sitting.) Dr. Lorie doubted the water had anything to do with Piewacket's death—it was simply his time.
That day Dr. Lorie gave me one of the most important gifts I ever received: the knowledge that the little bird's death wasn't my fault. We talked about how, as a veterinarian and a pet sitter, we were destined to love animals that didn't belong to us. She talked about how helpless she felt when her patients died.
Dr. Lorie was genuinely kind. She took the time to talk to everyone. Even on a Sunday afternoon, even when she'd been working at the hospital all day. I'm certain she'd be embarrassed by all the praise we're lauding on her now, at her untimely passing. I don't think she understood how rare she was.
This article by Cat Wisdom 101 touches on Dr. Lorie's professional life.