Second Act.

It’s mid afternoon on a Tuesday, the sun is beating down on this part of earth as Florida is battling yet another heat advisory. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of an animal control truck as the ACO training me guides us through traffic to the next call. A sudden feeling of dread washes over me. What was I thinking? Why did I think I could, or wanted to do this again? My left foot is tingling in my very hot shoe and that all too familiar low back ache has returned after sitting in this truck for the past 5 hours. All the feelings I had left behind a year ago. The reasons I was glad to leave the profession. Yet here I am doing it all again. Am I insane?

I already know how my mother feels about this decision and can hear her voice in my head telling me to get proper seat cushions for the truck to save my back. Am I too old this time around?

Or will the being older, wiser and slower part work to my advantage this time?

I vividly remember starting in animal control back in the day. That feeling of excitement and nervousness and unequivocal desire to save the world one call and one animal at a time. It took time to get comfortable talking to combative people and dealing with aggressive animals on my own. The knowledge of enforcing laws and writing citations properly and then handing them to people who wanted to punch you. That was young twentysomething Jessica.

This is my second act, and while it all feels familiar, it also feels new. I am the new girl. I am still learning the laws and ordinances of this county and most of all the somewhat redundant processes of this particular shelter. Bite quarantines are similar, yet different here. Dog on dog attack calls are handled differently, kennel and pet store inspections are too numerous to count, and everything seems to require an affidavit. I feel myself stuck between having knowledge of the profession and still navigating this huge learning curve. Everyone knows that I’ve done this before so there’s the added pressure of getting out on my own sooner. Or am I the one putting this pressure on.

Everything in the south moves slower and Florida is no exception. I will use this to my advantage. This time around, older Jessica will not drive herself crazy trying to finish every call on the screen or bend over backwards to accommodate owners that fail to follow through anyway. I will not allow work to dominate my mind on days off.

Kent County Michigan is 849 square miles with an estimated population of 680,000 residents. Pinellas County Florida is 280 square miles with an estimated population of 960,000 people. In Michigan I would drive almost an hour to get to a call on the other end of the county simply because of the distance. Here in Florida it can take the same amount of time to a call due to traffic volume. In Michigan I battled icy and snowy roads every year while here in Florida we have more heat advisories and rain storms than most places. Michigan gave me endless back country roads while Florida lets me drive along the ocean and watch pelicans dive. In Michigan I was always provided a bullet resistant vest and later a taser and body worn camera. Here in Florida I was handed a T-shirt and an ASP. I find myself missing my Axon camera now.

A few weeks have now passed and suddenly I find myself in my own truck with my own equipment, hopping on calls while also pulling out that SOP to make sure I don’t screw up the processes too badly. I’m coaxing a scared dog that has managed to wedge herself between two fences across from the airport, squeezing past palms to finally get close enough to get a leash on her. Relief flashes in her eyes as she is loaded onto my air-conditioned truck and it reminds me why I decided to do this all over again. Another call saw me respond to the university campus where police found a cat in a generator and unable to get up. Being able to bring this immobile cat to the shelters medical building so he didn’t die alone in 90 degree heat reminds my heart why this is where I’m supposed to be. I was done with the profession. But there are still a few more animals out here that need me.

I don’t know exactly how the rodeo will go this time around. How long I will stay in the job, or how my mind will handle it. But I do know that I’m capable, and that is a good feeling. While it is new, it is also familiar. There is comfort in familiarity.