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What’s wrong with this kitten? Why go after a child? Cats are hard-wired for predatory behavior to survive in the wild. Kept as pets, they must still be cats. This indoor, 5 month old kitten had no rodents to stalk and hunt. She was riveted by this child’s movements. Punishment? No. Lots of hunt and pounce toys and, if safe for all creatures great and small, plenty of outdoor time.
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Last in a series I’m residency trained in veterinary behavior medicine; I have no business venturing into the brains of humans. But, in this case, I did it anyway. Looking back on Kendra, it was clear that our effigy planting, blood gutter knife displaying, wicca enthusiast, short-term employee arrived with her own agenda. I don’t believe she was proselytizing her spiritual inclinations; her behavior was attention-seeking. She was good with clients at the desk and helpful in caring for pets like Princess, the fishhook swallowing poodle, but her shenanigans had become a serious distraction. Owning a veterinary hospital was harder work, requiring greater multitasking skills, than I ever imagined. The dogs and cats in our care surely have better outcomes if the entire staff stays focused. After Kendra stalked out the door we heaved a collective sigh of relief, Amos and Martha wondering aloud, “Who would want to hire somebody…
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Cats aren’t hard-wired to be couch potatoes. They are meant to hunt and pull the guts out of the helpless creatures that keep them alive. It’s not pretty but it’s nature’s way. You can import a dozen lab mice to turn loose in your living room (not a good idea, really) or you can provide all of your cat’s food from food-dispensing toys like the Twist ‘n Treat that Gaston is scavenging from. He expends energy and stays busy doing work that is similar to his innate survival skills. And he’s taken off a bit of that holiday weight gain. He has another food toy that he pushes around to get dry food. He never eats from a bowl. It wouldn’t be natural.
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Fifth in a series Who doesn’t love reunions? Princess needed to stay quiet the day after her open chest surgery but she and her family had never been happier. They gratefully accepted the fishhook she’d swallowed, promising to return the next day to keep their pupster’s spirits up. Free air was minimal, Princess’ lung sounds were good, her respirations normal. So I took the plunge on day 3 and removed her chest tube. She ate well, felt great, and went home with strict instructions for minimal activity. I’d called Dick Tracey for help with my other pressing dilemma but, sadly, his Apple Watch must have lost its charge. I was on my own. It might have been unfair to suspect our new staff member, rather than Amos or Martha, of planting that annoying voodoo doll in my desk but all doubt evaporated a few weeks later when Kendra displayed a…
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There’s a reason these slow creatures with their prickly personalities are seldom seen. They’re mostly active at night, normally spending the day in trees. They may forage for food during the day but are generally shy around humans. If they get their dander up, their quills show it. Nobody should get away with close contact. So why was this relaxed porcupine moving in my direction? We worry about wild animals that aren’t afraid of us. A behavior change can suggest rabies. Another good reason to keep your distance.
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Dogs in the wild survive by their wits. But as our pets they may live lives of quiet desperation because they can’t engage their natural brains and bodies. I tried fetch games with Mick but he wasn’t interested. Then it occurred to me (Doh!) – he’s a herding dog. We could call this game soccer but it’s all about Mick so he makes the rules. Well, I have one rule. I only kick the ball when he brings it to me. There is much more to Mick’s life. He practices agility and obedience, he runs on the irrigation ditches and plays tug. He’s a snuggler too. But his passion is kick ball. Do some trial and error to find what winds your dog’s clock. Have fun but try to have her do most of the work.
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Fourth in a series Work flow during the infant months of my veterinary practice was intermittent but with time we got busier. Martha needed help at the desk. In the treatment area I’d become concerned about Amos’ increasingly frantic demeanor. He felt that he could only keep up if he moved faster and faster. So I hired Kendra Franklin, a promising young woman, who turned out to be – interesting. But beyond our new staff training responsibilities it was Princess, the fishhook-swallowing poodle, who remained priority one. When I was satisfied that our surgery patient was stable I called Mom, Dad, and the kiddos from my desk. I shared the good news that we expected their pupster to make a full recovery but that we would need to monitor her for a couple more days. Their curly coated girl was ready for visitors; the offending foreign body was ready for…
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Third in a series The term free air may conjure filling stations of old, where you could pull up to the compressor and inflate your tires. Free air in a chest means that it’s not in the lungs where it belongs, keeping us alive; it’s outside the lung lobes but trapped within the chest cavity. Princess wouldn’t be able to breathe against that potential complication. But by inflating her lungs as I closed her ribs, followed by chest tube suction, we would eliminate this problem. As I set down my instruments I asked Amos to switch off the oxygen. That’s when our sleeping patient immediately began to struggle, inhaling only small amounts of air. The color of her gums was quickly turning a pale purple. We had no pulse oximeters in the ‘80s. Visual monitoring told the tale. Princess’s blood oxygen was dropping like a stone. We had to remove…
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Second in a series A lot of important stuff happens in our chests. Adding a fishhook is not a positive. We premedicated Princess with a pain reliever and sedative, administered an IV anesthetic, passed a tube into her trachea (windpipe), and started oxygen and gas anesthesia. Her vital signs were strong. So far, so good. Amos did a thorough prep of our patient’s chest and then wheeled her into surgery. After scrubbing, gowning and gloving, I was ready to make the incision between Princess’s ribs. Her breathing over the next hour would be carefully managed by my assistant’s gentle hands on the anesthetic breathing bag. I opened the chest and said “breathe.” After inserting the retractor, I said “breathe.” Then I packed off the lungs with warm saline-soaked lap sponges, first on one side and then the other, and repeated “breathe”. It was a careful, well-communicated dance. I felt a…
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