I was on-call last night for work after a very long day, and I was hoping for a relaxing night without getting paged at all. These are high hopes, my friends. Very high hopes. And very unrealistic. Of course, the pager started going off the very second I walked in the door, and it continued to go off every 30 minutes for the rest of the evening. Thankfully, I wasn't getting paged about anything too difficult, but being on-call is a very nerve-wracking thing anyway. You never know what you're going to get paged about, never know if you'll have to go back in to the hospital, and never know for sure if the other staff are heeding your advice when you talk to them over the phone.
Finally, around 11pm, I turned the lights off, set the pager volume as high as it could go, and snuggled up with Claire - who, by the way, was so very patient throughout the night while I continued to work. At midnight, I woke up frantically to the sound of the pager going off...and to Claire growling. When I turned the lights on, I found that she had bowed down, had the pager between her front paws with her nose right up against the screen, and was growling at it.
I felt her pain, I really did. Believe me. There are many times where I want to throw the pager out the car window while driving 140mph down the highway. Or when I want to toss it into the garbage disposal and leave it running. Or when I want to smash it to pieces with a hammer. (The list goes on... and I know my coworkers have similar ideas!)
Apparently Claire feels the same way.
The validation was exactly what I needed.
And so was the humor.
I just keep imagining what my boss would have said if I had come into work today saying that my dog ate the pager...