Coated With Fur: A Vet's Life

by Kristen Nelson

“What the hell do you think you are doing, treating one of my patients? I’m going to report you to the board. You can’t practice medicine without a license.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Excuse me, but Melanie Baylor called me for help because you couldn’t diagnose her daughter. I told her the condition sounded a lot like Giardia. Since the spring floods, veterinarians have seen a great deal of it.” I paused to catch my breath. “I only got involved because she asked me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she said or did,” he replied, flustered by my answer. “You have no right to tell her about Giardia or recommend a therapeutic trial. I’m Rachel’s doctor, not you,” he said, still screaming into the phone.

  “And I’m Rusty’s doctor. We just found Giardia on his fecal sample. Did you check for Giardia?”

  “Of course I did, you idiot. I ran a fecal. The results were negative.” He continued to mutter. I worried the doc would induce his own coronary event.

  “Which test did you run?” Silence filled the line. I waited for five seconds before continuing. “Giardia can be difficult to diagnose. It’s often missed on routine fecal analysis. You need to do a fecal smear to find the kite-shaped organisms.” He started to speak, but I kept going. “Or an antigen test when it becomes available. That’s why we sometimes use therapeutic trials in veterinary medicine.”

  “I’m not taking advice from a cow doc,” he shouted. “If you apologize, I might forget you ever did this.”

  “And when the test comes back positive, I expect an apology from you,” I replied. The doctor gasped. “And don’t blame the dog for this, either. I’m tired of ignorant pediatricians falsely accusing...”

  Bam! The pediatrician slammed the phone before I could finish. I pulled the receiver away from my ear. It echoed from the loud noise.

  “What did he say?” Allie asked mischievously. “What did he say?”

  “He said he wasn’t taking advice from a cow doc.” I replaced the receiver with one hand and rubbed my ear with the other. “And he threatened to file a complaint against my license for interfering with his case.” Now a mixture of anger and concern filled Allie’s eyes.

  “Well, Melanie wouldn’t have come to you if he had diagnosed it.” Her face turned red.

  “That’s what I told him.” I continued to rub my ear. “He didn’t take it too well.”

  “But what if he reports you?” Allie bit her lip after she spoke.

  “No worries, Allie.” I winked. “I never prescribed medication or diagnosed Rachel. I just said I’ve seen a lot of it in animals, so I would recommend testing for it.” It’s a shame the human and veterinary fields do not have closer ties. Zoonotic disease with the ability to pass between humans and animals should make it imperative.

  I grabbed a stack of messages and lab work sitting by the counter. “That guy, and more importantly Rachel, are lucky Melanie thought to ask,” I continued as I walked back to my office. “Remind me to call Melanie tomorrow for an update.” Allie nodded and ripped a piece of paper off the tablet she always kept in her pocket.

  The next morning, Allie waited behind the counter for me when I entered the office. She looked at her watch and pointed at its face to highlight my late arrival.

  “Oh, cut it out,” I laughed. “It’s only 11 a.m.”

  The night before, my pager went off at midnight for a kitten who bit an electric cord. The poor thing had a burn mark across the roof of her mouth. Her lungs filled with fluid, and she couldn’t breathe. I did everything I could, but nothing helped. She died at about 2 a.m. Watching the kitten struggle for breath was torture. I paced around our townhouse for two hours before exhaustion finally took over at 5 a.m.

  “Is there anything that needs my immediate attention?” I asked Allie.

  “No, everything is under control,” she responded. She pushed her glasses back into place. “Cleo nibbled on her breakfast this morning. She’s a bit more swollen today.”

  “That’s normal, especially with glandular tissue.” I smiled at Allie. “Any messages?” She handed me four scraps of paper. When I started to thumb through them, she cleared her throat and stared at me. When I did not respond, she cleared her throat again, her eyes brimming with mischief. She had one last message to share.

  “Melanie Baylor called.” I stopped thumbing through the notes. “Rachel has Giardia. The lab found it when they did the proper test.”

  “So the cow doc outdiagnosed the pediatrician,” I shouted. Vindicated by the lab, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm. I pictured the pediatrician’s face as he read the lab results.

  “Do you think he’ll call to apologize?” she asked.

  “No, his ego won’t let him,” I replied.

  “What a jerk,” Allie muttered. “He’ll probably try to blame the whole thing on the dog.”

  “I warned him not to do that,” I reminded her.

  “But what if he does? I suppose some owners might abandon their pets because of faulty advice from the likes of him.”

  “If he does, I’ll report him to the board and recommend parasitology C.E. He’s a disgrace to the pediatric community.” I tucked the notes in my pocket. “How was Melanie?”

  “Relieved,” Allie declared. “How long will it take for the diarrhea to stop?”

  “I don’t know about humans. But if they respond like animals, Rachel should be back to normal within a few days.” Then a deliciously wicked thought entered my mind. “A few days, that is, if the doc gets the dose right.”

  Chapter 28

  Emergency of the Male Variety

  August is the last month of predictably warm weather in Minnesota. Before school starts, families head to lake cabins to frolic in the warm summer sun. Many travel to Duluth to enjoy the north shore of Lake Superior. Unfortunately, these outings often lead to injuries for the animals.

  Beep, beep, beep, the pager sounded from the nightstand. I opened my eyes and stared at the clock. Eleven thirty glowed from the digital display. Beep, beep, beep. I threw back the sheet, sat on the edge of the bed and dangled my feet over the side. Beep, beep, beep. I grabbed the pager and squinted at the number illuminated on the panel.

  “Who is it?” Steve asked. A big black cat rested between us, his eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming through our bedroom window. The hum of the air conditioner drowned out the crickets and other night creatures.

  “I don’t recognize the number.” I stretched and yawned. “I need to turn on the light, so cover your eyes.” Steve swung his arm over his face. I twisted the knob on the lamp, and light flooded the bedroom. The cat blinked his eyes and looked away. His diamond-shaped pupils narrowed to a slit.

  “Hello, Reeves’ residence,” a feminine voice answered.

  “Jan, is that you?” I asked, still not fully awake.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She paused and giggled. “I’m not sure if this is an emergency or not, so I thought I’d better call.” She giggled again. “You remember Abby and the 14 puppies?”

  “Yes,” I replied and rubbed my eyes.

  “Well, tonight when I checked on them before bed, I noticed ...” She laughed nervously. “Well, I noticed one of the pups had ah, ah ,ah.” She paused. “Well, his ah, ah, ah.”

  “Yes,” I responded, trying to encourage her.

  “His wiener is twice the size as normal,” she blurted out. “Is he being naughty already?”

  “Naughty,” I repeated trying to decipher what she meant. My head felt like it was full of mush. “Naughty,” I repeated again. “Are you asking if this is an erection?”

  She laughed nervously but evaded a direct answer. “He is moaning and rolling around on his back. I think he might be in pain but Tony thinks he’s just having fun.”

  “Well, there is a condition in dogs where the penis gets stuck in the out position. I’ve seen it occur in newly weaned pups.”

  “Oh my God, we just weaned them yesterday,” she responded.

  Paraphimosis occurs when a male cannot ret
ract his penis into the preputial sheath. The preputial opening acts like a rubber band around a finger, blocking the normal blood supply. The penis becomes more and more painful as it swells. If the penis is not returned to its normal position quickly, permanent damage may occur.

  When the pups are taken from their mom, they search for something to suck on that resembles a mammary gland. They sometimes confuse the tip of the penis for a nipple. Usually it’s the most submissive puppy in the litter who becomes the victim.

  “What color is his penis?”

  “It’s purple.”

  “That’s bad, Jan. I think the prepuce is cutting off the circulation to his penis. He needs emergency care. He’s in a lot of pain.”

  “Geez,” she replied. “We have the worst luck.”

  “Do you have some KY jelly?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good, rub that on his penis to keep it moist and meet me at the clinic. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

  Steve and I drove through the side streets of Burnsville. We rolled down the windows to let the night air wash over us. A full moon illuminated the night sky, almost erasing the stars and flooding the landscape with shimmering light. We drove to the clinic in silence, each lost in the beauty of the harvest moon and each tired, very tired.

  A half-ton pickup with an empty gun rack resting across the back window pulled into the parking lot behind us. A small decal of a hunting dog on point adorned the lower corner, below the rack. Lettering on each door spelled out “On Point Kennels” in big green letters with a phone number for further information. A stout man with sun-bleached hair climbed down from the truck, walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Jan handed her husband a handsome black puppy with brown eyes and a jet-black nose.

  “I sure hope we didn’t drag you out of bed for nothing, Doc,” Tony grunted.

  “Well, we’ll know in a flash.” I smiled and unlocked the front door. Steve held it open while I flipped on the lights.

  “Please follow Kris,” Steve instructed.

  I led them behind the counter through the doorway into the pharmacy area. When I turned on the lights, the birds ruffled their feathers under the cage covers. Tony snapped his head toward the unexpected sound.

  “What kind of birds have you got here?” he asked.

  “Pets, no game birds,” I replied, having a little fun. “A parrot, canary, lovebird and a cockatiel.” I smiled at Tony.

  In the treatment room, I motioned for him to place the puppy on the table. The large belt buckle on Tony’s waist depicted a hunting scene. A man dressed in camouflage pointed a gun at the sky while a Labrador retriever flushed pheasants from a bush. The ornate buckle left white wear marks in his jeans. Jan stood behind him with a sheepish look on her face. I detected a faint smell of alcohol in the air.

  “OK, let’s take a look.” Tony peeled the towel off the pup and rolled him onto his side. “Oh my,” the words escaped my lips. The pup’s penis was four times the size I expected. It looked like a large purple sausage with the prepuce cinched around the base. “The poor pup,” I whispered. “This is the worst one I’ve seen.”

  “See, I told you Tony,” Jan proclaimed with the confidence of a woman in the right. “I told him this was abnormal.”

  Steve peered over my shoulder and winced at the sight. The puppy arched his back and let out a loud cry. He swung his head toward his rear end, but I blocked him from reaching his target. Licking would only make the situation worse.

  Because of his young age, I decided to anesthetize the puppy using only gas. If something went wrong, I could remove the nose cone and wake him up. I didn’t have that luxury with injectable drugs. Once they were in the patient’s system, it was out of my control.

  Steve held the furry pup close to his side while I set a catheter in his front leg for fluids. Next, I placed the small nose cone over his muzzle and turned on the gas. The little guy wrinkled his nose from the strange smell. He moaned a few times, then drifted off to sleep.

  Steve repositioned the pup’s limp body on a towel with his abdomen toward me. I slipped my gloved hand under his penis and gently lifted it up for a better look. The edges of the prepuce cut deeply into the sides of the penis. It was so tight that I could not even get my finger nail to pass through.

  “OK, it’s time to shrink the beast,” I announced.

  “How are you going to do that?” Jan asked.

  “I’m going to coat it in dextrose. The sugar will draw out the inflammation.” Steve handed me a clear plastic bottle of 50 percent dextrose. The rubber stopper popped like a champagne cork when I pulled it from the neck of the bottle. Tony whispered something to Jan that caused her to giggle. Next, I placed a paper towel under the pup’s penis and poured. The thick liquid crawled down the neck of the bottle, hung in the air for a second and then dripped onto the target.

  “How long does it take?” Jan asked boldly. She stared at Tony as she spoke. He looked like a husband who was in the doghouse. He stood quietly with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Tinges of pink appeared on his face.

  “About five minutes in normal cases,” I answered. “But hard to say with this one.”

  For 10 minutes, we watched and waited. Trying to break the tension, Tony shared stories from field trials he completed last week. As he ticked off the accomplishments of his dogs, I noticed the swelling slowly recede. The deep purple color melted into an angry pink.

  “Look,” I pointed at the pup. “It’s starting to shrink.”

  “It does look better,” Tony agreed after a quick peek. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

  “Let’s give it a little longer, and then I’ll try to put it back where it belongs.”

  “Have you had any interesting cases lately?” Jan asked. She sat down on a folding chair Steve placed for her.

  I thought for a minute. “Well, I fixed a broken leg on a hamster a while ago. The poor little thing took a tumble down the stairs in his plastic ball.” Both Tony and Jan laughed as they pictured the event. “He did really well.”

  “You mean someone actually paid you to fix a hamster?” Tony asked with an incredulous look on his face. “Why didn’t they just step on it and get a new one?”

  “I’m going to ignore that comment,” I replied. Why do some guys feel the need to be so stupid, I thought. “And I removed a nasalpharyngeal polyp from a cat. That’s not something I see every day.”

  “And again I would ask, why bother?” This time Tony winked as he spoke. Deep wrinkles appeared around his eyes when he smiled. Jan punched his elbow and scowled.

  “The rest of the cases have been pretty routine... lumpectomies, spays, neuters and vaccinations.” I looked down at the pup. “That is, until tonight when the Reeves arrived.”

  “Yeah, I’m going to have a hard time explaining this to the guys at the bar,” Tony admitted. His face flushed pink again. “This is so embarrassing.”

  I slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and checked the prepuce. My entire pinky finger now fit between the penis and prepuce. I flushed the sugar solution off of the pup’s penis with copious amounts of warm water. With all the dextrose solution gone, I lubed the shaft with KY jelly to reduce friction. With one hand on the penis, I inched the prepuce up the shaft. I pulled on one side and then the other until the penis disappeared back into its protective sleeve.

  “He should feel a lot better now,” I told his owners. I pushed his penis out again for one last check. A deep red crease encircled the base, but the organ slid back into the prepuce with ease. I removed my gloves and turned off the vaporizer.

  Now that everything was in place, I wanted to keep it that way. I told Jan and Tony to separate him from the dominant puppies for a few days until they lost the urge to nurse. Jan agreed to put him in a run with another small pup for company.

  “Make sure his penis retracts back into place after he urinates,” I continued. “You might need to lube him up and help him al
ong for the first day or so.” Jan and Tony looked at each other and laughed. They laughed so hard that tears welled up in their eyes.

  “I call that you have to do that,” Tony quipped to Jan.

  “No way, you’re the guy. You have more experience with the equipment than I do,” she replied. She stood with her hands on her hips. Although her head only came to his shoulder, she made a formidable image in her faded jeans and boots.

  “I wouldn’t mess with her, Tony,” Steve counseled. “I think that’s a no-win situation.”

  “See, Steve agrees with me.” Jan walked over to Tony and placed her hand on his shoulder. She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “Yes, dear,” he responded.

  Within two minutes of turning off the vaporizer, the pup began to twitch. He moved his legs and yipped a few times. I removed the nose cone. He continued to recover as he breathed in the room air. A minute later, he lifted his head and gazed at me through dilated pupils. As I wrapped a towel around him, I bent down and put my face next to his. The little guy sniffed me and then licked my cheek. This is the moment I live for as a veterinarian, the feeling of satisfaction that comes from aiding an animal in need. It makes the sleepless nights worthwhile.

  “Can we go now?” Tony asked, oblivious to the moment I shared with his puppy.

  “Yes,” I replied, straightening up. “Just remember to separate him from the dominant pups and watch him closely.” Tony nodded, picked up the puppy and carried him off like a sack of potatoes. Although it looked a little rough, the pup didn’t seem to mind. He snuggled into Tony’s side.

  “Thanks, Kris.” Jan looked at Tony. “I knew something was wrong,” she added for effect.

  “Yes, dear, you were right, dear,” he said as if he had delivered that line many times. She smiled and placed her arm around his waist. The two left the clinic arm in arm. I wondered if they would tell anyone about the events of this night.