“Looks like she’s a natural,” I said with relief. Some females will reject or even kill the puppies after a C-section.
One by one, we introduced the puppies to Ashley. As Laura held them, the new mom licked them from head to toe. After this proper cleaning, Laura placed them on a nipple. Invariably, the nipple Laura chose was not the one they wanted. Each pup squirmed until finding a nipple more to their liking.
“She’s an excellent mother, Laura,” I observed. Laura beamed with pride. She sat with her hands resting on Ashley’s back, finally worry free.
“Yes, it all worked out,” she responded. Then a determined look spread over her face. “But Mitch is still in trouble for not being here.”
Chapter 2
Mariposa
As I drove into the parking lot in late 1993, whistles sounded in the distance. I looked past the clinic toward the athletic fields of Burnsville, Minnesota High School. Groups of young men dressed in football gear performed drills and ran sprints under the direction of their coaches. I looked back at the strip mall and studied the sign above the clinic. A little over a year ago, this space was empty when I arrived to start my veterinary hospital. I remembered that first day, excited and a bit naive about the prospect of running a business. I had stood in the parking lot with my dad by my car, packed to the roof with supplies, and heard those same whistles.
The first several months were rough — bills were high and revenues low. On some days, our only sale was a bag of dog food.
It’s an understatement to say I started to doubt myself and the idea of launching a clinic from scratch. Steve and I sank our entire net worth into this business. Our future depended upon its success.
But spring finally arrived, and with it came heartworm season. Our revenues soared when dogs started arriving for their annual heartworm tests and vaccinations. The clinic broke even, and I started to pay down the debt. Now, a little over a year later, I could finally collect a salary.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered as I closed the car door and headed inside. It was 7:30 a.m.
“Good morning, Dr. Nelson,” Kim said from behind the counter. At 5 feet, 9 inches tall and with blond hair, she was a poster child for Minnesota. The clinic’s success had allowed me to hire another technician. After interviewing several candidates, Kim stood head and shoulders above the rest, figuratively as well as literally. Her skill, knowledge and quiet demeanor all combined to create an outstanding technician. She complemented her colleague, Allie, perfectly.
“Looks like you were busy last night,” Kim said with a smile. “A C-section…how late were you here?”
“We started at 10 p.m. and finished around midnight,” I replied, then leaned over the counter to study the appointment book. I loved seeing the slots filled with names. “How did you know?”
“You left the X-rays hanging on the viewer.” She smiled again. “I peeked,” she admitted.
I looked into her blue eyes and smiled. I had no idea how curious Kim was when I hired her. She noticed things that most people, even experienced technicians, miss. Now if only I could get her to be a little more outgoing with clients, she would be perfect. Her soft voice and habit of looking at the floor while speaking made it difficult for older clients to hear her. I hoped this would improve as she got to know them better.
“Any messages?” I asked, heading to the office.
“Just one. A woman called about a young kitten with an eye problem. I told her to bring it in but she wants to watch it for a few days. The phones have been surprisingly quiet for a Monday morning, which is good,” she answered.
“Why is that good?”
“Because our two surgical patients dropped off early today and they need their pokey butts.”
“Pokey butts…” her words puzzled me. I stopped and turned to face Kim. “What do you mean — pokey butts?”
“You know,” she said, looking at the floor. “Pre-anesthesia tranquilizers to calm them down. They haven’t stopped barking since they arrived.” Once Kim mentioned barking, I suddenly became aware of a chorus of howls from the back of the clinic. After being around noisy animals for so long, I had developed a high threshold for barking.
“No pokey butts until I have examined them,” I said exaggerating the words “pokey” and “butts.” “Then, they are all yours.”
As I listened more closely, I could hear a distinct difference between the barks. One sounded like a teenage boy whose voice was changing. It started out in a low tone, suggestive of a large dog, and then cracked. I listened for 10 seconds or so before I could identify the voice. It was Captain, the dog who had almost lost his front leg to a traffic accident. After weeks of changing his bandage, I could pick out his voice in my sleep. The other dog also sounded like a large breed.
“Goliath is here,” Kim said, reading my mind.
The week before, Goliath had hurt his leg while playing with a Great Dane at a dog park. He popped the head of his femur right out of the cup-shaped acetabulum. Although Goliath was a big Rottweiler, weighing an impressive 100 pounds, he was still no match for the 150-pound Great Dane. The youngster charged Goliath from the rear and dislocated his left hip on impact. Goliath screamed as he fell to the ground. Bob Tanner ran to his dog, and with the help of the Dane’s owner, carried Goliath out of the dog park to his car.
When he arrived at the clinic, I gave Goliath some morphine to control pain before moving him onto a gurney. Under strong sedation, I popped the femoral head back into the acetabulum and taped it in place. Goliath woke up with his injured leg held off the ground in a sling. He was not pleased with my work and promptly tried to chew off the sling. I countered with a large Elizabethan collar. Goliath hated the lampshade.
Once the round ligament of the femoral head is ruptured, it’s difficult to keep the hip in place. When replaced right away, the chances improve a little, but they still weren’t great, especially for Goliath. He suffered from hip dysplasia. Because his acetabulum looked more like a plate than a cup, I warned Bob that Goliath would probably need surgery to fix his hip. Two days after the accident, Goliath’s hip popped out again. Today, we would repair his left joint. We hoped the right one would be strong enough to stay in place during the recovery.
After dropping my bag in the office, I headed through the treatment room toward the kennels. I spotted Genny, the three-legged clinic kitty, lying in front of Captain’s run, staring at the young Bernese mountain dog.
“Genny, stop tormenting the dogs,” I commanded. Our eyes locked for two seconds before she scampered by, holding what remained of her right rear leg high off the ground.
“She’s been lying there since they arrived,” Kim observed. “I hope one never gets out, or she’s toast.”
Captain jumped onto his back legs, resting both front legs on the chain link gate. A long pink scar extended from the outside of his right wrist to his elbow. Silky black hair covered the rest of his leg. I opened the gate, and he leapt into my arms.
“Hi, Buddy,” I whispered in his ear. “Are you ready for the big procedure today?” Captain licked my face and wagged his tail in response. He didn’t know that today was the day of his neuter. I gently set him on the floor. “Let’s see how your obedience training is coming along. STAY!” I commanded. Captain stood still for the entire examination, only moving his tail in response to my voice. “Good boy, Captain, good boy,” I exclaimed after feeling his abdomen. Captain danced around me with his ears out to the side and a silly grin on his face. I bent over and hugged him one more time before returning him to the run.
Goliath laid at the back of his run. He stayed on a thick pad with his weight on the healthy hip. He had good conformation with a broad head, well-placed ears and sharp markings. Unfortunately, he wasn’t blessed with great hips.
“Kim, would you mind helping me with Goliath?” I called into the pharmacy. As usual, Kim appeared with a smile on her face. She never seemed to have a bad day. We opened the gate, stepped over the threshold and took our
positions around Goliath. After checking his ears, eyes, mouth and throat, I reached for the stethoscope that always hung around my neck. As the cold metal bell touched his skin, Goliath twitched and turned his head to look at the strange object. I jumped backward into the block kennel wall, slamming against it with some force.
“Are you OK, Dr. Nelson?” Kim asked, both concerned and puzzled.
“Fine,” I replied, trying to calm down. “Last year I was working with a Rottie named Lucifer.” I returned to Goliath’s side as I spoke. “He was rescued from an abusive situation.” I pulled back my right sleeve and pointed to two scars midway between the wrist and elbow. Kim winced. “Since Lucifer attacked, I’m a bit jumpy around this breed,” I admitted.
I petted Goliath’s head, and a big lazy grin spread over his face. “Even nice ones like Goliath. I just can’t help it.” Kim nodded and hugged him a little tighter for the rest of the examination. Goliath closed his eyes, reveling in the attention. He grunted twice when I felt his abdomen. When I lifted his tail, gas rushed from his anus.
“Oh, Goliath,” I exclaimed. “That’s vile! What is your dad feeding you?” I waved my hand back and forth futilely.
“Are we done?” Kim asked with her nose wrinkled. I nodded as I bolted from the run. Kim held her nose with one hand and petted Goliath with the other. “I’ll be back in a minute for pokey butts.”
While Kim worked with the boys in back, I headed up front to the pharmacy area. As I entered the room, the birds erupted with a chorus of chirps and whistles. In the first cage, Windsor, the cockatiel, paced back and forth on the perch of his food bowl. He held his crest of yellow feathers high off his head. The orange circles below his eyes gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
In the third cage, Romeo, the lovebird, climbed onto the side of his cage and let out a series of sharp chirps. Although the smallest of my flock, he was the feistiest. He loved to act nice and then get in trouble when you weren’t looking.
Bongo, the Amazon parrot, watched them both from the middle cage, wondering why they were so worked up. Her scarred corneas made it difficult for her to see.
“Good morning, birds,” I said enthusiastically. Bongo straightened, fanned her tail and constricted her pupils.
“How are youuuuuuuu?” she responded. Her voice had a mechanical quality to it. Before I could answer, she rocked the rafters with a loud scream. I clamped my hands over my ears. “Bongo good bird,” she continued. “Good, good, good bird.”
“Not when you scream,” I answered, returning my hands to my sides. One by one, each bird came to the front of their cages for a morning head scratch. I inserted my index finger through the bars and gently massaged the skin beneath the feathers. They would swivel their heads almost 360 degrees until I scratched the entire surface. Bongo enjoyed having her eyes rubbed as well.
“Be careful with Romeo,” Allie cautioned as she entered the room from the lobby, her car keys in hand. “He’s been nippy lately.” As if on cue, Romeo turned his head and sank the tip of his beak into my finger.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed. Two red, V-shaped dents appeared on my finger. I rubbed them with my left hand. “Well, lovebirds reach sexual maturity around eight months of age. Romeo is almost a year old, so I’ll bet his hormones are kicking in. These peach-faced lovebirds are prolific breeders.”
“Maybe you should neuter him,” Allie countered on her way to a locker. “I liked him better without hormones.”
“Too risky.” I frowned in response, still rubbing my finger. Romeo climbed down the side of his cage to the food bowl, looked in the bowl and then back at me. “Don’t worry, Romeo. Allie will feed you as soon as she puts her stuff away…you little stinker.”
The first appointment belonged to a young papillon puppy named Mari. I learned that Bill Howard bought the puppy as a present for his children, Mikey and Lizzy. When Bill was making French toast for breakfast, he moved to the fridge for an egg and stepped on Mari’s front right foot. She screamed and ran under the kitchen table, holding her paw high in the air. The four-pound pup was no match for his size-12 work boots.
“Good morning. I’m Dr. Nelson,” I announced as I entered the room. Mikey and Lizzy sat together in a chair in the corner of the exam room. Lizzy held a doll wearing a bright pink dress. Mikey rubbed his ear with one hand and sucked the thumb on the other. He wore a brown sock on his right foot and a blue one on the left. Bill held Mari, wrapped in a pink and blue baby blanket, in his arms. One large patch of black fur covered each ear; a stripe extended between her eyes and encircled her muzzle. The rest of her body was white except for another patch of black on her back over the shoulders.
“It’s my fault, Dr. Nelson,” Bill mumbled as he looked at the ground. “I was in a hurry to feed the kids before dropping them at daycare.” He let out a long sigh. “I should have been paying more attention to Mari. I never saw her…I,” he paused to collect himself. “I just felt her bones crunch under my foot.”
“I understand. This is a common injury in puppies,” I said, trying to offer some compassion. “They haven’t learned to be careful with feet yet.” Bill looked up at me for the first time. Deep circles lined this young father’s eyes. He rubbed the stubble on his face with his free hand. I motioned for Bill to place Mari on the table. When her back feet touched the table, she jumped back into his arms.
“Or, I can examine her in your arms.” I stepped around the table and offered my hand to the frightened puppy. She sniffed once and buried her head in Bill’s arm. Papillons or continental toy spaniels, have erect ears set wide apart on the skull. Mari’s big ears dwarfed her small body. “I won’t hurt you, Mari,” I cooed as I rubbed her neck.
“Mari is short for Mariposa,” Lizzy blurted out. “Do you know what that means?”
“I don’t,” I said, starting the examination.
“It’s Spanish for butterfly,” she answered.
“That’s a fitting name.” I winked at Bill. “Where did you learn Spanish?” Lizzy stared at her doll, her brief flash of confidence now replaced by insecurity.
“Her daycare teacher speaks Spanish and is teaching it to the kids,” Bill answered for his daughter. I extracted Mari’s injured leg from the blanket. It was swollen from the wrist down. I held her elbow with my left hand and walked the fingers of my right hand down the leg. Below the wrist, Mari squirmed. I stopped immediately, not wanting to inflict any more pain on the puppy.
“I think she fractured at least one of the bones in this area,” I said, stating the somewhat obvious. I pointed toward the metacarpal bones just above her toes. “After the X-ray, I can tell you more.” I stepped back to the exam table and grabbed the record. “I want to give her something for the pain first, before the films. It will take 15 minutes for the injection to take effect and then another 15 or so for the X-ray.”
Bill exhaled sharply and looked at his watch.
“If you need to go, you can leave Mari with me and pick her up later,” I told him. “I’ll call you with the results of the film.”
“Let’s do that,” Bill said. “I can’t miss any more work, or my boss will fire me.” He looked at Mari, and his eyes glistened under the bright lights. “You can fix this right?” he pleaded more than asked.
“Absolutely. Most times, with just a splint.”
Bill cuddled Mari into his side and kissed her forehead before handing her over. She looked up at me, then back to him. When he took the car keys out of his pocket, she shivered in my arms. “Don’t worry, little one,” I whispered. “Your family will be back to get you soon.”
“Be a good girl, Mari,” Bill instructed. She looked into his eyes and shook even harder. “Please call the work number as soon as you know something, Dr. Nelson.”
I nodded and verified the number with him. He picked up the kids, one in each arm. I held the exam room door open for them to leave.
“Goodbye, I’ll talk to you soon,” I said.
“Why isn’t Mari coming?” Lizzy asked. She
twisted in her dad’s arms to view her dog.
“Mari is going to stay in the hospital so Dr. Nelson can fix her leg. We’ll pick her up before supper,” Bill responded.
“No!” Lizzy screamed. “No, no, no!”
“Dr. Nelson’s going to fix her leg. Mari will be OK.” Bill kept walking toward the door. Lizzy squirmed in his arms and held her arms out to Mari.
“No,” Lizzy wailed, tears streaming down her face. “Not like Mommy!” Bill kept walking without saying a word.
I walked back into the exam room, pulled Mari’s record out of the drawer in the table and flipped open the client information page. On the client line, Bill listed only his name.
“Dr. Nelson, what are we doing with the puppy?” Allie asked, interrupting my thought.
“X-rays. I’ll calculate a dose of pain meds for her.” I handed Mari over to Allie. “Wait 15 minutes and then X-ray her right leg from the elbow to the toes. Center the beam on her wrist.”
Allie headed to the treatment room with Mari cradled in her arms.
“I’m putting your next appointment in the room now, Dr. Nelson,” Kim informed me while opening the door to the cat room. A shimmering gold angelfish swam in the corner tank. His long fins trailed behind him as he swam. Most cats were mesmerized by this large angelfish — the point of having an aquarium in the cat room. It also brought me joy.
“I’ll be right there after I treat the puppy,” I said, still thinking about Lizzy. I had never heard a child scream like that before. I wondered what had triggered her outburst. Lizzy’s screams were almost as loud as Bongo’s. I rubbed my ears and headed toward the treatment room.
In the cat room, Snowflake rested on Margaret’s lap while Kim questioned her. Ten years ago, Margaret and her husband Scott found the white kitten hiding under a parked car at a convenience store. The clerk told her a woman in a red car pulled up and dumped a box in the parking lot. The kitten must have been inside. When Margaret called, the frightened baby ran to her outstretched hands. Margaret wrapped him in her coat for the trip home. He purred all the way. He still purrs all the time.
Coated With Fur: A Blind Cat's Love Page 2