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I stole a few minutes between appointments to call the hospital phone number Greg Trujillo had given me. I’d committed to updating him on Sadie. I drummed my fingers on the desk while waiting for the receptionist to track him down, knowing my next client was also waiting. When Greg picked up I explained his dog’s so-far, so-good status. It turned out that the same was true for Susan, his wife. The poor guy was stressed to the max. I wished them both godspeed and promised to stay in touch. Sadie’s temperature had dipped to 99 degrees but by 7 PM was hovering around 100 – low normal for her species. Her eyes were open and her paws were moving a little. She hadn’t seizured for several hours. I knew that with overnight care, we had a shot at getting her through this. Under normal circumstances, the pet parent would…

Third in a series Lying semiconscious in the hot summer sun had driven big, fuzzy, and black-haired Sadie’s temperature into heat stroke territory. Her seizuring ratcheted it to 105. I directed our assistant Doug to pack alcohol-soaked gauze sponges between Sadie’s foot pads to dissipate heat. She also needed treatment for shock, not to mention Golden Malrin fly bait poisoning. With a bit of luck I got an IV started, no easy feat with a dog on the edge of vascular collapse. Amos marked the time on the bottle of lactated ringers and raised it high on the IV stand so it would run fast. (Yes, fluids came in glass back then and, no, infusion pumps had not yet made their debut.) Golden Malrin is a methomyl carbamate toxin. It attracts flies but it can kill anybody. I gave IV atropine to counter its neurologic effects. A series of IV…

Second in a series – There were no cell phones or GPS in the early ‘80s. I had no idea where Susan and Greg Trujillo lived but not to worry.

First in a series Lots of the pets I’ve treated have lived with horses, cattle, chickens, and goats. And flies. So many flies that fly paper, fly traps, and fly poison are freely deployed in a war of epic proportions. These pests are damaging to creatures great and small. I had just finished examining and vaccinating a cocker spaniel puppy named “Joe” when I attempted friendly conversation with his person, a hirsute young man, of about 25. I asked how he’d chosen his puppy’s name. He hesitated, peering at me from under his bushy mop as though I was dense. Finally he muttered, “Joe Cocker, man.” Oh. I hadn’t made the connection. Martha, the rock of our client service desk, was always at the top of her game. As I emerged from the exam room, feeling not so bright, she took charge. Greg Trujillo had just called about his Newfoundland.…