While I worked with Pawsitively Saved, I learned a lot about dog behavior, aggression signs, and restraint to de-escalate fights. It was often assumed that being in the field and truly doing the hard work, dealing with the harsh realities of euthanasia and how some animals just can't be saved, whether it be because of behavior or physical issues, would dispel my wish to become a veterinarian. Instead, I was spurred on to push harder to accomplish my goal. I realized how the animals that were to be euthanized often had no one by their side, no comfort in their last moments, rescue or not. I strived to become that grounding presence, and still hope to be that to this day, even if I am the one administering that final shot. From my very first day at home after being born, I was surrounded by fluffy tails and curious noses. Our dog at the time, named Tucker, was a very sweet and laid back guy. He protected me from our cats, despite how little they cared about my presence. He lived until I was around ten, if I remember correctly. He loved to lounge on the deck and watch the birds. While he was still here, we adopted another dog from some neighbors that were moving and couldn't take her with them. Her name was Zoey. Zoey had an eating disorder. She felt like she had to eat all the time. She was lazy, and plump, but the most loving dog an owner could ask for. Tucker passed in 2016, which made Zoey the lone dog of the household. She became depressed, and, honestly, so did I. That's when we adopted CJ. He was around six or seven months when we adopted him, but it was obvious that his previous life was filled with abuse from the moment we brought him home. I found myself wanting to heal him- he bore no physical scars, but his mind was covered in them. Even so, he's still a very sweet, very eager to please pup that I wish I could put in my pocket and bring everywhere with me. My urge to help animals began with CJ's mental scars, but, as time went on, my interests spread to being more physical, as well. The start of Zoey's decline was what truly pushed me towards this end goal. She could barely walk some days, couldn't control when she pooped or peed. I didn't realize it then, but I know now that the look she wore was one of shame. I wanted to fix her. She was only nine. She was my best friend, and she was dying at nine. It felt cruel. Unfair. I researched a lot following her death, and it became apparent that she most likely had something wrong with her spine; perhaps a tumor, perhaps something else. Whatever it was, I strive to make sure it never gets as bad as it did for her with any other animal I treat. She may have only been nine, but she was suffering. I wish that kind of suffering on no living thing. I dedicate my work to both her and CJ, but also to myself, as this journey of learning animal behaviors, memorizing medicines and treatments, has been the most fulfilling part of my life to date. I look forwards to pursuing my dreams, scholarship or not. Nothing will stop me from becoming a veterinarian.