Coated With Fur: A Vet's Life

by Kristen Nelson

  I cleaned the free end of the stomach tube with alcohol on a gauze pad, inhaled deeply and placed my mouth around the tube. While I blew through one end, I pushed the other end down Sadie’s throat with gentle force. It’s a delicate, though unsightly, procedure. If I used too much force, the tube might rupture Sadie’s esophagus or stomach. I twisted the tube to help it pass through the cardiac sphincter, but the tube would not budge. Beads of sweat formed under my bangs. I drew in another big breath and pushed on the tube as I blew into it with all my might.

  Suddenly, I felt a pop. I removed my lips from the tube just in time to avoid a rush of gas! My bangs flew up into the air, and the smell of dog food filled the room. “Whew.” I held the tube away from my face. It smelled like a frat house after a long weekend. “I always hate that part.” Allie laughed.

  For 10 minutes we flushed clean water into Sadie’s stomach, rolled her around and then pumped the water out. At first, the brown-colored water contained dog food. The round pieces barely fit through the diameter of the stomach tube. By the end, the water ran clear.

  At this point, with Sadie’s stomach empty, we repositioned her body with her head hanging over the side of the table. I eased out the tube. Water and saliva dripped from Sadie’s mouth and stuck in her beard. I held the tube over a drain and let the remaining contents run out. Allie wiped the dog’s mouth and lifted her lip. The gums looked great. When Allie pressed them, the tissue blanched for a split second, then returned to pink. We kept her in this position for several minutes to prevent fluid from dripping down into her lungs. Aspiration pneumonia was the last thing this dog (or we) needed to combat.

  While we waited for all the fluid to clear, I noticed Sadie’s coat. The beautiful blond color reminded me of an oat field before harvest. Her long upper eyelashes looked fake, and her nails were trimmed and buffed to a smooth finish. What impressed me most was the cleanliness of her ears. Not a speck of wax anywhere. She looked like she stepped out of the show ring. This was obviously a well-beloved member of the family.

  “Well groomed, isn’t she?” Allie commented as she returned to the room. “This owner really takes good care of her. I wish every owner was like her.” I nodded in response. With those big floppy ears, cocker spaniels require constant care ... weekly ear flushes and baths in addition to regular grooming. It’s a huge responsibility – one many people do not fully appreciate.

  After we cleaned up, I brought Paula back to the treatment room. Allie wrapped Sadie in a blanket and placed a heating pad below her. She even sprayed the room with air freshener to mask the smell of partially digested dog food.

  “She did just great,” I informed the anxious owner. Paula bent over Sadie and hugged her. Maggie stood on her hind legs with her nose high in the air. She strained to look at her buddy, resting her front legs on the table. Her beautiful vizsla face lit up when she smelled her friend.

  “Dr. Nelson, the post films are up.” Allie slid them onto the viewer and turned on the light. I studied them while Paula petted her beloved companion, who shivered beneath the blankets.

  “Why is she doing that?” Paula asked, concerned.

  “She’s cold from the anesthesia and the fluids,” Allie answered. “While they’re under, the body can’t regulate its temperature.” She pulled up a corner of the blanket. A green pad attached to a long plastic tube lay between Sadie and the table. Hot water circulated through the pump, into the water channels of the pad and then back to the pump for reheating.

  “Good news, Paula.” I turned to look at her. “I don’t see any masses or other abnormalities.”

  Although Paula was happy, she wondered aloud why Sadie bloated in the first place? From the amount of food in her stomach, I guessed that Sadie ate too much and then drank a substantial amount of water. The kibble expanded in her stomach and caused the bloat.

  Paula bent over Sadie and hugged her again. “Maggie would be lost without her,” she stated. Maggie’s ears perked up when she heard her name. “These two are inseparable.”

  Sadie started to cough and gag on the trach tube. Allie deflated the cuff, untied it from Sadie’s upper jaw and held it by the end. When Sadie swallowed, she removed it from her throat and tossed it in the sink. Sadie coughed several times to clear her throat, opened her eyes and lifted her head off the table. With her tongue lolling to the side, she looked drunk. Paula giggled.

  Allie brought a folding chair and placed it beside the table. Paula sat with her arms around Sadie while she recovered. Maggie sat beside the chair, facing the bank of cages behind the table, staring at Scruffy. During Sadie’s treatment, he sat in the back of his cage grooming his coat after the bath. Satisfied with its condition, he walked back and forth along the front of the cage. He rubbed on the bars and purred. Maggie stared at the cat, unable to take her eyes off him.

  “What’s wrong with that cat?” Paula asked.

  “He’s a stray who needs a home,” Allie answered with a big smile on her face. She winked at Paula. “I think he would make a great addition to your family.” Paula started to laugh. She knew a sales job when she saw one. She held up her hands and shook her head.

  “Two hands, two dogs ... that’s my limit.” Her face turned serious for a few seconds as she looked at Sadie. “Thanks to your wonderful care, I’m still at my limit.”

  “Well, if you know anyone who wants a cat, please tell them about Scruffy. We will vaccinate and neuter him for free,” I said.

  Feeling neglected, Sadie raised her paw and placed it on Paula’s arm. When Paula looked at her, the dog uttered one sharp yip.

  “What does she want?” Allie asked.

  “That means she’s ready to go.” Tears flowed down Paula’s cheeks. “She’s back to normal.” She buried her head in Sadie’s fur. “My baby is back to normal.”

  Chapter 9

  Nasty Animals

  Caution,” Allie warned as she handed me a medical record. She stared at me for five seconds to make the point. “Be careful with this one, Kris.” I nodded. Aggressive animals present the most dangerous aspect of veterinary medicine. In addition to physical trauma, I always worry about infection. One of my friends developed osteomyelitis from a cat bite. The infection in the bones of her knuckle required intravenous antibiotics and a hospital stay. She eventually had the joint fused to alleviate pain.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Nelson,” I said entering the room. My canine patient reclined on the table. Thick fur masked her eyes. I could only discern a jet-black nose beneath the hair.

  “Hello, Dr. Nelson, I’m Ed Allen, and this is Precious.” He petted her head. “She’s a real brat, so be careful.” I appreciated his honesty. Ed adopted Precious when she was a puppy. He loved the little furball too much and spoiled her rotten. When the Lhasa apso turned a year old, Precious decided she ruled the roost, not her owner. She spent her life on the furniture, not on the floor like lesser dogs. If anyone tried to sit beside Ed on the couch, she growled. Precious also slept right in the middle of the bed while Ed clung to the edges. If he tried to move the feisty dog over, Precious growled and showed her teeth. She was a furry bully.

  “So what is Precious in for today?” I asked.

  “Well, the groomer put a bow on her, and she won’t let me remove it.” He pointed to a tangle of hair on the top of her head. I could not see anything under the matt. “Every time I try, she growls.”

  I bent down for a closer look at Precious. Tangled in the hair on the top of her head, I spotted a pink ribbon. Below it, knots of fur covered a metal clip. It pulled the skin away from the skull. “Wow that must hurt.” Her long hair made it impossible to see her nails. When I straightened up, our eyes met for a split second. A deep rumble started in her throat. Ed cautioned me to take her warning seriously. She bit a technician two months ago.

  “OK, let me get reinforcements.” I opened the door. Allie appeared with a royal blue muzzle in hand. For five minutes we tried to get the muzzle over Precious’ nose. Allie held the muzzle by its long e
nds with her hands at the far edges. While I distracted the self-appointed queen, Allie slowly inched the muzzle toward her nose. At just the right moment, she flipped it up into position. True to form, Precious caught it in her mouth each time. During our last try, she lunged at Allie with the ferocity of a much larger animal.

  I motioned for her to stop. It’s humiliating when small animals outwit me. But then again, humility serves a veterinarian well. There was no choice but to knock out Precious for the procedure. Ed looked relieved as he placed her on the floor. She shook her body and walked toward the exit. In her mind, the entertainment for the day was over, and she prevailed. Little did she know what was to come.

  “Not so fast, young lady.” I slipped a nylon lead over her head. “You’re staying with us.”

  After Ed left, I coaxed Precious into the treatment room. We slipped another lead over her head. Allie fastened one to the wall and held the other. Precious was stuck in the middle. While Allie distracted her, I threw a large quilt over her head and pinned her to the ground. She bit through it, narrowly missing my hand. Allie pulled up the back of the quilt and in a delightful sneak attack, injected her back leg with a sedative.

  “OK, you can let her go,” Allie said as she finished the injection. I jumped back but left the quilt in place as a distraction. Precious thrashed back and forth for a moment before the quilt fell off. She was mad about everything. My dignity restored, I retreated to the other, and far safer, side of the room to watch her fall asleep.

  Twenty minutes later, Precious lay asleep on the treatment room table. I trimmed her nails while Allie worked on her head. The tangled hair held the clip tight against her body. Scissors were out of the question. There was no room to cut the hair without damaging her skin. The only way to free this mess was with a clipper. She would have a bald spot after we finished, and that was OK by us. Allie pushed the buzzing blade between the clip and Precious’ skin. The hair gave way, revealing an inflamed patch of dermis.

  For 30 minutes, Allie worked on Precious’ feet. The hair between her toes twisted into thick mats. As the clipper blade became hot, she sprayed it down with lube or switched to another one. Handfuls of hair spilled off the table and covered the floor. When all the mats were gone, she trimmed up the dog’s face with scissors and plucked the hair from her ears. Before Precious awoke, Allie rubbed ointment into the inflamed areas to make her more comfortable. She looked like a new dog. Sadly, her disposition was unchanged.

  We must have had a sign out front that day inviting only nasty animals to enter. After Precious, Allie and I wrestled with an angry cat named Blackie. He did not want us to draw blood in an effort to check his thyroid level. Allie held Blackie on his side for a back leg draw. When the needle pierced his skin, Blackie lurched off the table with all four fangs exposed. I felt his teeth penetrate my lab coat and glide against my skin. Before I could react, Allie pulled him off my arm.

  “Sorry about that, Dr. Nelson. Did he get you?” Like most medical professionals, Allie was usually unflappable, but this was too close a call. Her question conveyed genuine concern. Maintaining a vice grip on the cat, she repositioned him on the table. I pulled up my sleeve to inspect the damage. Red lines ran across the top of my hand. Thank goodness, it was only a scratch.

  “We’ve had our share of mean animals today,” I noted while cleaning my hand with antiseptic. “I’m ready for some nice ones.”

  After we got our draw, Allie inspected Blackie’s leg and placed him in the carrier. “Well, I’m afraid we have one more to go,” she replied. “You know how things seem to run in threes.” She laughed and took Blackie back to his owner.

  My next appointment looked simple, at least on paper. The dog needed a quick rabies vaccination before it could be placed in a permanent home by a rescue group. I entered the room, expecting a routine appointment. I should have known better.

  When I opened the door, a large Rottweiler snapped to attention. His dark brown eyes stood out against his filthy coat. This dog stared at me without blinking. They were haunting, almost evil, eyes. Dominant acts by some animals are amusing; this was not. This rott truly wanted a fight with me. I kept my eyes averted in an effort to avoid provocation. Carol Donald, a petite woman with jet-black hair sat in the chair next to him. She held a chain leash with both hands.

  “This is Lucifer.” Naturally, I thought to myself. Carol clenched her fists around his chain leash. She explained that a neighbor called her rescue group out of concern for the dog. His owners got him as a pup and then decided he was too messy to live indoors. They chained him to a tree in the backyard without anything ... no food, water or doghouse. If it weren’t for the neighbor’s care, the dog would be dead.

  Something about the way this dog looked at me made me wary right from the start. Carol thought he was neglected but not abused. She said he was great with her. I decided to withhold judgment about both his attitude and her ability to restrain this dog. Lucifer weighed 110 pounds. Carol appeared to be high 90s at best. I handed her a nylon muzzle.

  “Suit yourself,” she replied. She placed it over the dog’s mouth and fastened the strap behind his ears. As I walked around the exam room table, Lucifer and I made eye contact. We stared for about five seconds, and then he lunged at me. The chain kept him from connecting with my leg. Carol eventually pulled his head toward her lap.

  “Sorry about that, Dr. Nelson,” she replied in a confident voice. “I’ve got him now.”

  I crept behind him and placed my hand on his back. Lucifer’s body tensed like a coiled spring. Under the thick coat, his muscles rippled. I listened to his heart, keeping my head as far away as possible. Next, I palpated his abdomen. A large scrotum hung between his back legs. Of course, his owners never had him neutered. I retreated to the other side of the table. From this safe vantage point, I noted the chain on his neck cut into his skin. His owners must have put it on him as a puppy and never bothered to expand it as he grew. Now it was embedded. The heartless treatment of his past gave me pause.

  “OK, then let’s give him the shot.” I picked up the syringe filled with pink rabies vaccine. Carol held him like she did for the exam. I took the cap off the needle, crept around the table again and grabbed his back leg. He growled, but remained still until I stuck him with the needle. The prick provoked him. He swung his body into the wall and lunged at me. I jumped back behind the table, trembling just a bit.

  “We need more help.” I capped the needle and placed it on the table.

  “Naw, I got him now, Doc.” Carol wrapped her arms around the dog’s head. “Give it another go.”

  “I would feel better with another set of hands and a better muzzle,” I insisted. Few medals for valor are awarded in veterinary medicine. I called for Allie to bring the thick leather muzzle, the type used on police dogs. It covers the entire mouth while the nylon one lets the dog’s nose stick out. Some dogs can actually bite through the narrow opening. It’s more of a pinch than a bite, but it hurts.

  Carol placed the leather muzzle over the nylon one and cinched down the straps. Allie put another leash around Lucifer’s neck. With both women holding him in opposite directions, he was stuck in the middle where he couldn’t bite either.

  With everything in place, I cautiously touched his rear end. He sat down but could not spin toward me with the two leashes in place. He nervously worked to eye me. I uncapped the needle and stuck it through his skin. Lucifer let out a horrific cry and sprang into the air, pulling Carol out of her seat. He opened his mouth with such force that the rivets in the leather muzzle popped out onto the floor and hung from his neck, useless. He tore the nylon muzzle off his face with both front feet.

  I retreated behind the table as Lucifer scanned the room. When his eyes settled on me, an evil expression enveloped his face. He hurled his body through the air, dragging Allie and Carol behind him. I raised my right arm in defense and braced for impact. My hand connected with his neck before his teeth reached my throat. I stiff-armed him to the side
like a running back sprinting for the finish line. Lucifer turned his head and nipped my upper arm before he locked his jaws around my forearm. Searing pain rocketed through me. My arm was on fire as he crushed it between his teeth. Seconds later, my pinkie and ring fingers went numb.

  Without speaking, Allie sprang to action. She pulled on the leash with all of her might. The slip lead tightened down around his neck, cutting off his air supply. When he finally gasped for air, I pulled my arm out of his mouth. I felt the skin on my arm tear away from the muscles beneath it. Pain sent me crashing backward into the wall. I struggled to stay on my feet. If I went down ...I might not get up.

  “Allie, watch out,” I screamed as Lucifer turned his attention to her. She slipped through the door into the lobby and slammed it on the leash, trapping the crazed dog on the other side. Lucifer spun in circles to free himself. He looked possessed. If ever a dog had the perfect name, it was this dog. Allie secured the leash to the handle. I ran out of the room, my arm limp at my side. Bright red stains appeared on the sleeve of my lab coat and kept growing as I staggered to the sink.

  “Kris, are you OK?” Allie yelled from the lobby.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “But check on Carol.”

  I teased the coat off my right arm and dropped it to the floor. Blood ran down my arm in spurts. I shoved it under the faucet without looking at the wounds. The cool water stung as it met raw tissue. My arm throbbed in unison with the beats of my heart.

  “Carol is fine,” Allie reported. “She’s calling the rescue group to see what they want to do.” She stood next to me. “How bad did he get you?”

  I pulled my arm out of the sink and blotted the wounds with a paper towel. Punctures covered the area between my shoulder and wrist. He nipped me more than I realized. Blood oozed from each opening. The worst damage occurred when Lucifer locked onto my forearm –̶ his canine teeth created two large holes in the skin. The smaller of the two was an inch in length; the big one exceeded two inches. Strands of muscle – my muscle – hung over the edges like fringe on a pillow. White bone glistened at the bottom of each hole.