A SUPPOSEDLY Terrible thing I may repeat many times

This piece was originally submitted and published under the pseudonym Mr. Coyote in the latest edition of the Antioch Record, a publication ran by the late and lovely, S. Quinn Ritzhaupt. 

It’d be wrong to say that I knew all the ins and outs of what it would mean to “study the effects of stress in non-human subjects (Rodents)” when I signed up to be a research assistant in a behavioral neuroscience lab.

Upon our meeting, one of the PIs stated: “After a study is done, we must euthanize the Rodents.” 

Me, happy to be there: “oh yes, that makes sense.” 

Them, later during a tour of the facility: “We rapidly decapitate the specimens to ensure death”

Me,: “Oh sure, yes, that makes sense to me.” 

Them: “Everyone gets trained.”

Here it may be worth inserting two facts: first, they were adamant that I never had to do anything that I didn’t want to and, secondly, I’ve been a practicing ethical vegan for five years, go figure. So, for the coming months I was trained in the research, befriended my labmates, and became familiar with the various Rodent paraphernalia scattered about. 

Before I started at the lab I was under the impression that the people who work in animal research were affectless, calculating, engineer-brain type people who didn’t mind facing stressed out, nearly-hairless monkeys behind bars, day-in, day-out. It was entirely unfamiliar to meet people who had any experience in animal research, let alone had been doing so for their decades-long careers. But meeting groups of people that I was, in theory, ready to yell at, wasn’t terribly new for me in the ye olde swing state of Ohio. So in curiosity, I carried on. 

Euthanasia, turned out, was a very small part of the process, much like an ending is a very small part of the story. There’s new guidelines, animal wellness protocols, and procedures carried out to minimize pain or suffering. That said, the friendly and impassioned spirit of the lab did not make my participation in this world a blaise decision. It’s not often you are asked to question a collection of previously unchallenged life values for the sake of science, or a cool opportunity, or the nice group of people you’ve only just met. 

I knew that if I had consulted the people I knew, Mom would have preferred I didn’t participate in Rodent Death, my friends would’ve been on the same side, and my lab mates would have egged me on, albeit respectfully. I watched videos of the procedure (horrifying), and then brought my concerns to the PIs (less horrified). I asked some online professional boards what they thought: some said that I best start skinning the suckers if I ever wanted to get off the bench, another chimed in to say that she has owned Rodents since she was 11 years old and was horrified. Whatever I was supposed to think had gone out the window, the militant ethical principles that turned me to veganism had waned around year three, but the practice stuck as what I saw as a semi-civic duty. The eastern principle of “inquiring within” was also pretty jank, since I had no real familiarity with such things besides having dissected a cow heart in 5th grade. And so the current I found myself in carried me on.

...

I arrived early the day I observed Rodent Death. I helped to prepare the chrome countertops, and I made small talk, opened a fresh pack of scalpels. And so, white lab coats worn by all, down came the guillotine from a high shelf, scaled down to Rodent size. I imagined what it’d be like to get my finger caught in there. 

After that, we watched five animals come through fast in precise orchestration, CO2 -> unconsciousness -> rapid decap -> brain extraction -> discard. As the guillotine came down each time, I watched the head fall into the biohazardous waste bag to ensure this was something that I could do in good conscience. 

My turn to complete the second part of the training, the doing, was only a couple days later. In the time between, squirrels appeared differently to me. When the day came, I showed up. As I was the last to go, I stepped up despite being an inch away from turning on my heels and leaving as fast as a multi-door key card system would allow. Instead, I chose to pay attention to what happened inside me as I carried out the procedure, and although I was prepared to feel horrible, my curiosity was high. My feet had brought me there, after all. 

Each Rodent was the same: they came into the room squeaky and needy and upright. Then under the CO2, they became warm sandbags. Under the guillotine, that struck with the sound of a straight edged paper cutter, they became specimens, matter, already going cold. 

Over the course of the process, it became apparent how much life was in the little guy entering the room, how very little life was in the sandbag, and how very much no life was in the specimen left over. How little life resides in the body at all. All of the achey, chirpy, hungry, neediness was gone. All of the animation and all of the potential. 

At that point I was surprised, if not disappointed, in how comfortable I was with the process, and so was guided through the second procedure, a brain extraction. Namely, I took the discarded head as instructed, cut the scalp to reveal the skull, which I then chipped away. I snipped the ocular nerves with a turn of the head, out plopped the brain: the color of lenten roses, the texture of Jello pudding. 

...

I have yet to find a moral demarcation on my forehead for the whole thing. Call it a work of cognitive dissonance or naivete, I may agree with you. But coming from it, I was happy with the lesson.

 Namely, after returning to the room to help clean up, I noticed that the air was thick with Rodent Death. It wasn’t a welcome smell, but I imagine that when I die, I will make a room smell bad too. I learned that an acquaintance with death can be neutral, and educational, even welcome. And that many of my pet prejudices may be done away with a little bit of chance-taking and active participation in what I choose to believe in. 

My experience with the lab has benefited my previously unexplored opinion of animal research, and my appreciation of life. Say what you will, about Rodent Death. Or me, for that matter.

May 7th, 2021