More than halfway through I was beginning to think that this was the perfect veterinarian memoir for me because nothing really bad ever happened. Which is, of course, impossible and unrealistic. But truly—the worst things that happened involved a jerk lecturer who dissed the author at a conference; moneys throwing feces; and a woman wanting a sedative for her pet iguana so she could sneak it into Australia in her bra.
But it’s too real and it’s set in L.A., and worse yet, eventually hits the time of the Rodney King riots. A horrid time. And there are also a couple of sad animal stories.
But for all the reality, it’s a very positive book and
I recommend it completely. Too bad there’s not a sequel.
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