“I thought a specialist would spay Chiffon when they took care of her other problems?”
“That was the plan,” Allie confirmed. Evidently, Chiffon did so well on the lactulose that her owner postponed the other surgery. The little furball was Julie Cummings’ constant companion. She only left her owner’s bed to eat, drink or go outside. The pup grew into a four-pound guard dog who kept an eye on all the people coming and going. No one could touch the young woman without passing a sniff test. Under Chiffon’s care, Julie’s physical condition and attitude improved. Chiffon gave Julie a reason to live.
“How is Moe doing today?” I asked as I unbuttoned my thick winter jacket.
“Great, I didn’t see any vomitus in the incubator.” Allie handed me a stack of messages. “But you forgot to give him a litter box.” She smiled at me as she recalled the details. Moe jumped into the litter and started to urinate without even digging a hole. “The poor guy really had to go.”
By the time I finished the stack of messages, the waiting room bustled with people and animals. Two golden retriever puppies needed their booster shots. A diabetic cat needed a glucose check. Winston needed his anal glands expressed again. The morning flew by. Before we knew it, the clock read 12:30, and neither of us had eaten anything.
“Allie,” I called as she headed to the lobby with a bottle of pink amoxicillin. “I’ll get us lunch if you set up the O.R. for Chiffon and Genny. Steve has a client meeting in Burnsville this afternoon. He’s going to stop by after the meeting.” I pulled my winter coat off the hook in the closet. “I want her done before he arrives.”
Allie knew how protective Steve was of his little princess. It would be in everyone’s best interest to finish her before he arrived. She nodded and shook the bottle in her hand. “I’ll take care of this client, then work on the O.R.”
Fifteen minutes later, I returned to the clinic with two sandwiches. Allie stood at the front counter, her ear glued to the phone and an annoyed expression on her face. “OK, then, bring her right in,” she said in a reluctant voice before she hung up the phone. “Sorry, Dr. Nelson, but we have an emergency coming in.”
Great, I thought to myself between bites of lunch. We’ll never get Genny done before Steve arrives.
We hadn’t finished eating when the doorbell rang. In walked a couple, Helen and Timothy Johnson with their young son, Robert, and daughter, Alison. She cradled a brown tabby cat in a blanket. The anxious parents stood at the counter while the kids took a seat in the waiting room. The little girl buried her face in the blanket and cried. Allie quickly ushered the family into the cat exam room.
“Dr. Nelson, we think Ariel broke her back,” the father said. “My son fell on her and ...”
“I did not fall on her,” Robert interrupted his father. His mother jerked her head toward him and gave him a look that brought immediate silence.
“Robert, I told you not to lie,” she scolded.
“I’m not lying. You don’t believe me.” He turned around and faced the aquarium with both hands on his hips.
“Sorry about that, Dr. Nelson,” the man continued. “We were packing for a trip when we noticed Ariel lying on the floor with her back in a strange position. Then she started to cry.” He looked at the cat in his daughter’s arms. “She’s in horrible pain.”
I looked at the information sheet the couple filled out. Ariel was a present for Alison’s 7th birthday. She was 8 weeks old back then, so she must be about 9 months old now. Ariel had received all her kitten shots but was not spayed.
“OK, please put Miss Ariel on the table for me. Let’s see what’s wrong with her.”
When I removed the blanket, Ariel yawned, rolled onto her side and stretched her entire body. Her brown tabby stripes ended in brown spots on her tummy. She was a beautiful girl with long graceful legs and a fluffy tail. I petted her head and then ran my hand over her back. Ariel scrambled to her feet. She thrust her rear end high into the air but kept her chest on the ground like she was praying. When I scratched her back just in front of her tail, she yowled and closed her eyes.
“That’s what she’s been doing, Dr. Nelson,” the man said. The couple exchanged worried glances.
“And rolling around on the floor, too,” the woman added. “The poor thing is in pain.”
I tried not to burst out laughing. “She is in pain,” I said in a soothing voice. “But it is not the kind of pain you think it is.” The parents looked at me quizzically as I continued the exam. Ariel reveled in the attention. She flopped from one side to the other and meowed when I hit a good spot. There was just one last item to check before announcing the diagnosis.
“OK, I need to take her temperature.”
“Honey, hold onto her for this,” Helen instructed her husband. As a kitten at her exam, she had hated this, leaving two long scratch marks on Helen’s arm. Timothy placed both hands on Ariel and braced for the worst.
“I don’t think you have to worry about being scratched today.” I shot a wry smile at the couple while I covered the end of the thermometer with lube. I scratched the magic spot just in front of her tail. She raised her rear end high in the air. The minute the tip of the thermometer touched her skin, she froze in place. A strange look of contentment spread over her face. She relaxed her ears to the side and closed her eyes. As the seconds ticked by on my watch, Ariel purred and purred. I removed the thermometer. Timothy relaxed his grip.
“Wow, are you ever good, Dr. Nelson,” Helen said. “She was awful the last time.” I smiled and nodded my head.
“So what do you think is wrong with Ariel?” Timothy couldn’t wait any longer.
I thought for a moment before I responded. “Ariel is in heat.” I looked straight into the couple’s eyes. They looked at each other, clearly confused by this turn of events.
“That can’t be,” Helen replied. “She’s not even a year old yet. She’s just a baby.”
“Well, your baby has grown up.” I smiled. “Cats may go into heat anytime after 6 months of age. It’s common for spring and summer kittens to have their first heat in January.”
“But she’s rolling around in pain,” Timothy countered, not ready to believe me.
“That is normal behavior for a cat in heat,” I responded. “The hormones make them act that way.” Silence filled the room as the couple pondered the situation. Timothy petted Ariel. She continued to roll around on the table.
After a minute, the little boy turned his attention from the angelfish to me. “What is heat?” he asked. Helen’s eyes widened. Timothy blushed. They looked at each other but were at a loss for words.
“Heat means Ariel is growing up from a baby kitten to an adult cat,” I answered with a smile on my face. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“Oh,” he said, and returned his attention to the fish tank. Helen’s eyes returned to their normal size and the bright red color left her husband’s face.
“Are you sure about this?” Timothy asked. “I mean ...” he paused. “She seems so pained.”
I leaned forward and whispered. “As a vet, I can tell you the only time a cat enjoys having its temperature taken is when it is in heat.” Instantly, his face turned red again. Helen gasped and started to laugh. As often happens with guys, Timothy was clearly uncomfortable. He was relieved the cat was OK, but at this point looked for any opportunity to get out of the clinic.
Alison could not understand her parent’s reaction. After studying all the adults for a moment, she blurted out a very important question. “Will Ariel be alright?”
“Ariel will be fine,” I answered in as reassuring a voice as I could muster. “Now that she has grown into a mature cat, she needs to be spayed.” I looked at the parents. “Otherwise she will keep going in and out of heat until she ...” I paused searching for a nice way to say get pregnant. “Until her needs are satisfied.”
“You got to be kidding,” Timothy said. Helen burst into laughter again – big heaving belly laughs that left her with tears in her eyes.
> “No, I’m afraid I’m not,” I replied. “They act like this for a week or so, relax for a few days and start again.” Helen stopped laughing long enough to wipe the tears from her checks. Her husband’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “You know how much noise the stray cats make at night,” I said. They both nodded. “That’s what you’re in for unless you spay her.”
“Well, we were planning on taking her with us,” Timothy responded.
“We’re going to Iowa to see Grandma and Grandpa,” Robert chimed in.
I suggested they leave Ariel at the clinic during their trip. We could spay her tomorrow and then let her recuperate in the hospital. By the time the family returned, she would be back to normal, her days of raging hormones over.
“That sounds great to me,” Timothy responded. “What do you think, honey?”
A look of sadness filled his wife’s eyes. “I planned to let Ariel have one litter to let the kids experience the miracle of life.” She patted her daughter’s shoulder. “I thought it would be a wonderful thing to share as a family.”
As I veterinarian, I hear this a lot. Women who experience the miracle of life want to share it with their children. They believe it will be one of those memories the family can share forever. Unfortunately, these moms often have no idea what they are in for. I work hard to give them the facts necessary to make an informed decision.
First, I discussed the problem of finding a mate for Ariel. Since no reputable breeder would let their purebred tom breed with a shelter cat, their options were limited. They could find a friend with an intact male pet or let Ariel go outside in search of love. But this would expose Ariel to all kinds of dangers from infectious disease, being attacked by a dog or hit by a car. The second problem was Ariel’s size. Because she was petite, an emergency C-section might be needed to deliver the kittens. A C-section is not inexpensive surgery. Third, finding good homes for the offspring is a lot of work. To complicate matters further, cats usually give birth at night. Families often endure the work only to miss the birth.
Before I could continue, Helen raised her hand with the palm facing me. “OK, I get the point.” She looked at her husband. “I agree. Let’s get her spayed while we’re gone.” I breathed a sigh of relief. With all the unwanted animals in the world, I felt great about preventing more. I picked up Ariel and cuddled her against my face. A worried look spread over the little girl’s face, tears welled in her eyes.
In a nod to Dr. Anderson of my youth I said, “Would you like to come in back and see where Ariel is going to stay?” Alison slowly nodded her head and grabbed her mother’s hand. “Robert, would you like to come as well?” He nodded and put his hand on her purse. “OK then, follow me.” I escorted the family through the pharmacy into the treatment room. I opened the door to a cage above Scruffy’s former abode.
“May we keep her blanket so she has something from home to comfort her?” I asked. Alison nodded. She folded the blanket into a neat square and placed it in the cage.
“What’s wrong with that cat?” Robert pointed at Genny. She slept in the cage next to Ariel.
“Nothing,” I replied. “She is going to be spayed today. We gave her a tranquilizer to calm her down. It makes them sleepy.” The little boy nodded. His head barely reached the second tier of cages. “We’ll do the same with Ariel,” I added.
One by one, Helen, Alison and Robert hugged Ariel. When they finished, I placed her in the cage and latched the door. Allie escorted them out while I changed into scrubs. The clock read 1 p.m. Steve was expected around 2:30.
Chiffon went first. I spayed her and also removed the baby teeth in record time. Then it was Genny’s turn. Under the effect of the tranquilizer, her precocious attitude disappeared. Through the wonders of pharmaceuticals, Genny was transformed into a model patient. Within minutes she slept under the bright lights of the surgery table. Her heart beat in a regular rhythm. I left to scrub my hands in the prep sink while Allie scrubbed Genny’s tummy.
After Allie tied the gown behind my back, I slipped on a pair of sterile gloves. The clock read 1:50. There should be plenty of time to finish before Steve arrived. Sitting on a stool by Genny’s head, Allie slipped her hand under the drapes to feel Genny’s heart and looked at the EKG.
I got right to work. After draping off the surgical area, I incised her abdomen. I inserted a long instrument with a hook at the end into the incision. The spay hook made it much easier to grab the ovaries and uterus. When I pulled it back out, Genny’s left ovary lay inside. There’s nothing like finding it on the first try. I ligated the ovarian pedicle, removed the ovary and moved to the other side. Again, the right ovary popped into view on the first try.
With the hardest part over, I moved to the uterus. In cats, the uterus is a small Y shaped organ. The arms of the Y are very long while the body is short. This allows the queen to carry multiple fetuses with ease. I ligated the uterus just above the cervix and removed it along with the ovaries from Genny’s abdomen. Before closing, I peeked inside one more time.
“She looks good. I’m closing now.” Allie nodded and made a note on her clipboard. With only the incision left, I felt confident that we’d finish before Steve arrived. I grabbed a needle holder and suture from the Mayo stand. The needle passed in and out of the muscles with ease. Allie stood up to view the incision.
“I’m turning her off,” she said. I continued to work, with the needle moving in and out of Genny’s skin.
“Ding, ding” the doorbell sounded. Allie looked at her watch. It read 2:05. She put down her clipboard. “Are you OK so I can see who it is?” I nodded.
Before she could leave, Steve’s face appeared in the window. He looked concerned. He had raced to the clinic to check on his precious Genny. Allie and I looked at each other and shrugged. He cracked opened the door.
“Hi, Allie, hi, Krissy, who are you working on? I didn’t see Genny in the cages.”
I responded with my eyes still trained on the incision. “I’m finishing Genny’s spay. You’re early.”
“Yes, the meeting ended early. I rushed to get here as fast as I could,” he announced with pride. I threaded the suture just below the surface of Genny’s skin.
“Are you doing the plastic-surgeon closure?” Steve asked. “I know Genny will chew out sutures in her skin.”
Allie looked at me and rolled her eyes. Before I could answer, he asked Allie if she was bagging her at regular intervals. Allie nodded and to emphasize the point squeezed the black bag attached to the oxygen machine. Fresh gas rushed through the system.
“She’s all done.” I released the towel clamps and rolled the drapes into a ball. Allie loosened the ties on her front legs while I released the ones on her back legs. With that done, she unclipped the leads to the EKG. For two minutes, Genny breathed pure oxygen from the machine before she started to cough. Allie pulled the trach tube out of her mouth. She coughed twice more, then relaxed. I swaddled her tight in a towel with only her face showing. She continued to sleep as the anesthetic wore off.
“Here’s our little princess, dear,” I said to Steve. I walked into the treatment room with Genny in my arms, holding her on her back like a human baby.
“Oh, poor little Genevieve. She looks so precious.” He petted her head and kissed her forehead. He extended his arms toward me. “I’ll hold her while she wakes up.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dear.” I tried to discourage him. Some cats wake up having nightmares. They growl and bite at imaginary monsters. They do much better in a quiet cage without any stimulation.
“No, I want to hold her. She’ll be fine with her Dad.” He left me no choice. I handed Genny over to him. He flipped his tie over his shoulder and held her close to his chest. “We’ll be in the office,” he announced and left the room. I removed the cap from my head and fluffed my hair with both hands.
“Where’s Genny?” Allie asked when she returned from the O.R., carrying the surgical instruments rolled up in a drape.
Steve sat in the middle of the office on a folding chair. Genny slept in his arms, still wrapped in the blanket. I made phone calls just outside the door. Steve rocked our little bundle back and forth in his arms and motioned for me to turn off the office lights. He felt they were too bright for her eyes. With that, Steve took control of the recovery. She was definitely Daddy’s little girl.
I dialed the first number. Beep, beep, beep, the line was busy. I placed the note at the bottom on the stack. I dialed the next number. Just as it started to ring, I heard a loud growl from inside the office. I slammed the receiver down and returned to the office. Genny looked possessed. Her eyes were huge, seeing all kinds of scary monsters. Steve pressed her against his chest as he struggled to keep her under control. The growls grew louder and more ferocious by the second. She managed to get her one rear leg out of the towel. Her tail whipped Steve’s leg.
“Steve, give her to me,” I commanded. Undeterred, he continued to rock back and forth, ignoring me. “Steve, now!” I yelled. As he tried to comply, Genny freed herself from the towel. She pinned her ears flat against her head and hissed at Steve. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t recognize him. A split second later, she jumped at his face with her teeth bared and claws out.
I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck just before she made contact with his face. She twisted her body and took a swipe at me with her front claws. I held her at arm’s length and ran to the treatment room. Allie opened a cage door. I dropped her inside and slammed the door behind her. She spun around and swiped at me again.
“Are you OK?” Allie asked. I nodded. “Caught her in midair.” I panted from the excitement. “She was going to rip Steve’s face off.” Genny uttered a long, low growl from the recesses of her cage. All the hair on her back and tail stood on end. She hissed and charged the front of the cage. Allie and I jumped back in unison. That was a close one, too close for comfort. Allie blew a stray hair out of her face and covered the front of the cage with a towel. Most cats calm down in a dark space.
Coated With Fur: A Vet's Life Page 12