My career aspiration is to become a vet. I love animals even more than I love weed, and believe me, that’s saying a lot. Last year when I turned 18, one of the first things I went out to do was sign up to be a volunteer at the PAWS Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Lynwood, which is the largest in the northwest. I volunteered there once a week last summer and absolutely fell in love with the place, the people, and most of all, the animals. I got to see baby bear cub examinations, watch surgeries on seagulls, and tube feed baby flying squirells. One activity I particularly enjoyed was cleaning the bird habitats up on the hill. Now, why on god’s green earth would anyone enjoy cleaning up bird poop? Because I didn’t have to use a sponge. No. Instead, I got to use a flame thrower. The best way to sanitize the metal caging on the enclosures was to douse it in fire. This activity required me lugging a very heavy tank of gas up the hill to the cage. The I turned on the gas and the safety. A hose connected the tank to a nozzle, which spit fire out five or six inches in a circle. Whenever I used to use it, I would pretend I was some sort of god of fire or pyromaniac gone crazy. Ah, good times.

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