You BITCHES and Your Slap-Happy, Unaccountable 'Convenience Sedation' Go-To Practices.
This Was My Deeply Beloved Harry . . . Who Was A Completely Normal Little Dog Just 15 Hours Earlier, Standing Up In His ICU Cage Crying for Your Comfort . . . and Medically, Needing Nothing More Than the Urgent Rehydration He'd Been Admitted for . . . and That You Charged Me For But Didn't Give Him . . . Drugging Him for Your Student Filmfest Being Easier and More Profitable.

This Is What Unaccountability Looks Like . . . the Handiwork of Two ICU 'Nurses', Students, 'Teaching Staff', Stephanie Rigg and 'Dr' Steffi Jalava . . . Catastrophic, Repeat Drugging for Usage in Student Activities and Filming & So Harry Could Then Be Presented to Me As Having Suffered Some Sudden 'Neurological Decline' and Requirinig Immediate 'Euthanasia'
Here's something the veterinary industry doesn't want you to know. And something Massey University and it's "Companion Animal 'Hospital'" and its management, "Dean" Jon Huxley and Practice Manager, Pauline Nijman, certainly don't want you to know:
When you leave your pet at a veterinary teaching hospital - or any veterinary practice, for that matter — you assume the people handling your animal are qualified, registered, and individually accountable for what they do to it.
They're not. At least, not all of them. And in some cases, not any of them.
Don't believe me? Ask Google yourself:
"New Zealand has no legal regulation of veterinary nurses or other allied veterinary professions.
"Professional titles for veterinary nurses/technicians and allied animal healthcare practitioners are not protected by law in New Zealand.
"You can legally work in a veterinary practice in New Zealand without a formal qualification."
To be clear - qualifications exist, and some practices prefer or require them.
But here's the point: none of it is required by law. The title is not protected. The register is voluntary. Anyone can call themselves a veterinary nurse. And if something goes wrong, there is no statutory body with the power to hold an unqualified or unregistered veterinary nurse individually accountable for what they did to your animal.
They could have been a cleaner or a receptionist the week before. And in the case of these bitches who slammed my precious little dog with repeated catastrophic doses of a convenience sedative - that their own recent records show he had previously suffered profound adverse reactions to (there at Massey itself) and that, additionally, is firmly contraindicated for the very kidney condition the blood tests they had that very night performed on him and could clearly see he had - there is no way I can believe they had qualifications. Or, if they did, Massey should be investigated for giving them to them.
Which, by the way, they are. Massey's Companion Animal Hospital is currently under active investigation by the Ministry of Primary Industries' Animal Welfare Investigations Unit. And reader feedback conveyed to me indicates it's been a long time coming.
On the night of November 30, 2025, I walked into Massey University's Companion Animal Hospital ICU and found staff huddled in jovial social conversation, completely ignoring a screaming, blind, senior dog in crisis — my dog, Harry.
He was not only in emotional crisis and desperate need of human comfort - he was blind, acutely dehydrated following a short burst of very hot temperatures and our temporary accommodation crisis related to an insurance disaster - but he was also standing up strongly on his little back legs with his front legs stretched out fully through the grid of the cage door . . . and at any moment, being blind, if he'd have come down sideways from his standing position, he would have snapped his legs in the grid.
And they didn't give a shit. I was almost on tears of uber-frustration trying to get a completely impotent, deer-in-the-headlights, couldn't-wait-to-get-me-out-of-there-so-her-shift-to-finish Stephanie Rigg (whose name, fascinatingly, appeared on a pre-populated "euthanasia consent" form forced on me the next day, after a two-hour coercion session by her "colleague" "Dr" Steffi Jalava . . . whose dastardly deeds the next day you can read about here. May she rot in the richly deserved state of hell she intentionally and wilfully induced Harry into before pulling off her "he's had a neurological" event and "needs to be euthanased TODAY" stunt . . . that, confused, sleep-deprived (as it was on the intake notes that I had declared I was the night before upon arrival) and emotionally blackmailed for two long, intense hours, I finally fell for.
But I digress, with apology to my readers . . . as this article isn't meant so much to be about Harry as it is a warning to you for the sake of your own beloved pets. Except that, clearly, the two topics are inseparable.
Yes, I'm still furiously angry (and I always will be) about what was done to Harry, and by extension, me - and about the fact that, if not for this gaggle of psychopathic, unaccountable bitches and their supposed "management" and "teaching supervisors" (and you can see clearly exactly what they're being "taught"), I would still have Harry beside me, here at home, right now. And yes, I'm furious about the intense suffering and cruelty they put him through (with certain images I've been able to extract, although most I haven't) from Massey under legal provisions, indicating there was a degree of real enjoyment by staff an students in the cruelty they inflicted upon him.
And before I move onto answering the question any loving pet owner will be left answering (How can I protect my pet, proactively, if he or she ever ends up in an ICU, especially Massey's?), let me press home two further facts. One a point of evidence that Massey's management has full understanding of what has been going on behind its closed doors all this while, and the other, absolute proof that, the complete non-accountabiity stretches from the cleaner-turned-"vet-nurse" scenario right through to the highest levels of the actually qualified:
Firstly, if Massey's management had nothing to hide, they wouldn't scrub and falsify hospital records. Because that's a crime with serious ramifications under a variety of different sections under the Crimes Act 1961 . . . but, in Harry's case, they did it anyway. And now they have a police filing as a result . . . with "Dr" Steffi Jalava's name attached . . . albeit, in reality, the gutless upper management who were no doubt also involved and/or directed it, should have their names attached to that police filing as well. And they will. Give me time and the benefit of my ongoing deep-dive investigative work.
Secondly, the rigged system that is the Veterinary Council of New Zealand's "complaints process" has been its best-kept secret for years. And the collusive relationship between Massey and the Veterinary Council has been even more well-hidden. Not any more.
How the 'Accountability' Game Works
But in the meantime, here's what pet owners need to know about how the accountability - or, rather, non-accountability - game works:
Something goes wrong with your pet. You complain. The institution points you to the Veterinary Council of New Zealand.
Perhaps, as in my specific case, even threatens you with legal proceedings if you dare speak outside of those closely-managed channels. Which was a ploy that didn't go well for Veterinary School "Dean" Jon Huxley when he pulled it on me. And that has continued not to go well for him ever since - with The Killing of Harry Kelly expose series now extending well past the shores of New Zealand and reaching all corners of the globe, and with the campaign now having given rise to the establishment of the International Institute for Improvement in Veterinary Ethics (IIIVE.org). All outcomes for which I've been called a range of names by courageous anonymous emailers (who appear to very clearly be) affected Massey insiders, of the intellectual ilk of "Hugh Janus". (Bring it on. You are serving to provide graphic warning to my readers as to the level of ethics, compassion, and intelligence possessed by those who are handling their pets behind closed doors at Massey's "Companion Animal Hospital" - from the lowest rungs of the ladder to the "highest" . . . and above.)
Back to the system.
The Veterinary Council of New Zealand, very conveniently for the sector, deals only with registered veterinarians — it has no jurisdiction over veterinary nurses, students, technicians, or any other staff. (And, by the way, the Veterinary Councll's "uphold rate" for complaints across the past 24 years, has been 1.5 percent . . . and that's only of those pet owners who thought it was worth the frustration of trying to complain. And, it's worth additionally noting that Jenny Weston, Massey's Academic Program Director of the BVSc program, is ex officio member of the very Veterinary Council of New Zealand committee that reviews all complaints assessment decisions — including, potentially, yours.
So if the person who actually harmed your animal wasn't a registered vet, you can't even go there . . . for whatever it might have been worth going there for at all (but DO, though, because otherwise whoever hurt your pet will have no attention drawn to their actions whatsoever). And if the registered vet who was nominally "supervising" (example being the young intaking whatever her qualification might have been, Stephanie Rigg on the night of Harry's sadly and totally unnecessarily fatal admission), can credibly claim they weren't directly involved in the specific act that caused harm — well. Good luck proving otherwise.
How Massey Gets Away with (What, In A Human Hospital Would Actually Be) Outright Murder
At a teaching hospital, add another layer.
Students aren't registered. Interns may or may not be fully registered.
At Massey, the chain of supervision on the night Harry was admitted was so diffuse that the clinician on duty — who I later established was almost certainly still an intern — either had no, or was too scared by the Hospital's culture, to exercise any authority over the ICU nurses who were ignoring a patient in distress.
"Nobody" specifically decided to sedate Harry into near-comatose collapse. "Nobody" specifically disconnected his IV fluids eight and a half hours into a prescribed 24-hour protocol. "Nobody" specifically filmed him in that state for multiple student training videos, in direct contravention of my repeated written and verbal instructions. It was a team effort.
When I stood in that ICU watching my blind dog scream in terror with his legs outstretched through the steel bars of his cage, the person nominally in charge told me everyone there loved animals. Six months later, not one of those people has (YET) been named, charged, or held accountable by any regulatory body.
Now here's the part that applies to every pet owner who does know the name of the vet involved and lodges a formal complaint.
You lodge it. You name the vet. And then the process disappears behind closed doors. The assessment panel is not disclosed to you. The outcome — if there is one — is typically a private reprimand that the public never sees. You are not told what was decided or why. And across 24 years, VCNZ upheld just 1.5% of complaints.
That's not a regulatory body. That's a protection racket with a letterhead and funding it shouldn't have.
Massey University has gone one further. By redacting every single name from every document provided under Privacy Act and OIA obligations, they have made it impossible for me to even get to the starting line of the normal complaints process.
You can't lodge a Veterinary Council complaint against a person whose name you don't know. Massey knows that. That's why the black boxes exist.
Six months of Privacy Act requests. Six months of redacted names. Six months of black boxes over every individual who had any involvement with Harry's admission, his treatment, his filming, and his death.
Despite all accepted international veterinary profession protocols and standards, Massey's OIA response received this week advised that Massey - intends to release staff names only to VCNZ (Readers: The expose on that specific issue is coming very shortly.) Being pressed from all directions now, and probably knowing those names are going to be compelled by an external source sooner or later, they have finally said the names will be released.
Except not in reality. Because they're only going to be released to their mates over at the collusive Veterinary Council. Released to the closed-circuit with jurisdiction over registered vets only — rather than released to Harry's owner, who is entitled to know the identity of every person who handled her property without authorisation . . . as clearly declared by Senior Standards and Advice Officer & Solicitor at the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons (UK) Ky Richardson, with whom I confirmed standard international practices on identity disclosure.
And . . . Back to the Second, Back-Up Accountability Trap Door
Meanwhile, any staff member who wasn't a registered vet disappears entirely from the accountability architecture.
No register. No complaints body. No individual liability. Just an employer with every incentive to keep their name out of the public record.
Here's what all this means for you.
The next time you leave your pet at a veterinary teaching hospital — or any overnight veterinary facility — remember this:
You have no way of knowing who will handle your animal during the hours you're not there. You have no way of knowing their qualifications, their registration status, or their individual accountability if something goes wrong.
You have no way of knowing whether they were the cleaner last week. Or maybe still are.
Your local vet is not going to tell you this.
The teaching hospital is not going to tell you this.
The Veterinary Council of New Zealand is not going to tell you this.
So I am.
Before you leave any veterinary consultation — every single time, no exceptions — insist on being given a print-out of, and check the detail of, the clinical record for that visit.
Make sure the name, position and role of every person who made a decision for your pet, carried it out, or handled your pet in any way, is recorded in there. Every time. Before you walk out the door.
Actually, given the practice of just handing you the EFTPOS terminal when you approach the counter after a consultation, with the total already entered and a flippant "Do you need the invoice emailed to you?" offer that you're meant to respond to "No, it's OK, don't worry about it") . . . GET AND CHECK THE RECORDS FIRST.
LOOK WHAT HAPPENED (READ ABOUT IT HERE) BECAUSE I DIDN'T.
Because I fell for the clinical attire and "stethoscope hung around the neck" image.
Because I trusted the very last people that I should have ever trusted.
And one last critical point of warning - make sure you read this article - and that, if a vet or a staff member of a veterinary practice is the one pointing you towards euthanasia of your pet, and it's not your idea and especially if it comes out of the blue - ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS, SEEK A SECOND, FULLY INDEPENDENT, OPINION.
If "Dr" Steffi Jalava had not engineered the logistics of that fateful day to have prevented me from being able to do so, any vet I'd left to take him to see in that condition, would have immediately seen what I didn't - as a non-vet and in a heavily stressed and sleep-deprived state - had not been able to recognise: That Harry was catastrophically overdosed with sedatives and other potentiating substances. A little dog that - 15 hours earlier - performed the complex moves and fine motor co-ordination of standing up on his hind legs, and even while blind and in a foreign, caged environment, outstretched his front legs through a tight cage grid . . . and directing his cries straight at me as I walked through those ICU doors . . . was NOT a "brain failing" animal.
What he was, was - when they'd finished drugging him and using him for astoundingly cruel student "teaching" purposes and film productions - was a piece of inconvenient evidence that they were NOT going to let me leave with, alive.
And, on that note, my final two recommendations are this: NEVER allow yourself to be in a situation like that where you are totally alone and under pressure to make an irreversible decision. And ALWAYS trust your intuition. To the last. Because you may be in a situation - as I was - where "the last" wouldn't have been "the last" for Harry, if I had have trusted mine.
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