Pawcurious Vet Blog: Pet help, stories, and information with Dr. V

We had a more eventful than intended Easter Sunday.

The plan was to spend the day at my parents’ house, an hour away. We packed up the kids, and then as we were headed out decided we should bring Emmett along too. He doesn’t get out as much as he would like and we wanted to include him in the day.

We enjoyed the typical Easter bacchanalia, with Emmett of course skulking in the shadows trying to pilfer from whomever felt sorry enough to slip him a bite of ham. After everyone was thoroughly stuffed, my sister took the kids and the dogs (she has a shih tzu named Buffy) into the backyard to play.

After a couple of minutes, I heard her say in a mildly nervous voice, “Someone get Buffy. There’s a dog here.”

I peeked out the window, and sure enough, there was a pit bull standing right outside the back door. She was covered in scars in the way that some pit bulls unfortunately are, which is never a good sign. “That’s my neighbor’s dog,” my father said. “She must have dug under the fence.” Someone had secured Buffy already, and Grandpa was in another corner of the yard keeping the kids away. Right at that moment, Emmett came over to investigate.

He’s not dog aggressive, but he’s not easily intimidated either. He walked right up to this dog and started the usual sniffing routine. I edged out the door, hoping they would do their greetings so I could then lead Emmett inside. Then the pit bull attacked him.

To my family’s credit, no one threw themselves on the dogs or started yelling. I think it happened so fast we were all in shock. Emmett was mostly standing there looking shell-shocked, while the other dog had a death grip on his ear, shaking from side to side.

Hearing the ruckus, I saw the neighbor’s head pop over the top of the fence, and I let him know in no uncertain terms that his presence was required. Or something to that effect. I turned on the hose, but it wasn’t attached to the water supply so it just sat there limply while the dog gnawed a little more on Emmett. I wouldn’t let anyone grab them, though my mother in law had apparently found a broomstick and was trying to figure out what to do with it.

By this time the neighbor finally pried his dog off mine, and proceeded to beat the heck out of her in front of everyone, which was almost as horrifying as the attack itself. Then he carried the dog off, ominously promising “This won’t happen again.” Poor dog. She didn’t know any better. I actually like pit bulls, normally; I’m not a supporter of breed specific legislation and I think they are often fantastic pets. But obviously this was one of the dogs that has not been raised the way one would hope, and here is the result. I feel for her too.

What a day. Emmett has a few lacerations but nothing serious. I am just so grateful because obviously things could have been much, much worse. I am glad she went for Emmett, who is big and confident and held his own, as opposed to Buffy or one of the children.

I’ve heard of the wheelbarrow technique for separating fighting dogs, but I’ve never seen it done in person, and in this situation I wasn’t comfortable asking anyone to try it. Does anyone have experience with this way to separate dogs? Does it work? In this case we had no way of securing the other dog once separated and I’d be worried about what would happen if the person holding the dog stopped moving. I really didn’t want anyone to get bit.

Poor Emmett. Fortunately he got away with minor lacerations that should heal just fine.

He really is good at the mournful expression.

Buffy ponders her close call.

After a little cleaning up, some good pain meds, and a dose of antibiotics, he felt much improved.

Getting to sit on the couch helped too.

Now go put all that chocolate up out of your dog’s reach.

I’ve spent lots of time pointing out fun, helpful, and interesting things that a pet lover might be interested in, but today I want to show you something that is a really stupid idea.
The Walky Lock car lock may, in fact, be just about the worst idea I’ve seen in a long time.

This is basically a little prop that holds the back of your trunk open just a wee bit. It’s kind of like rolling your window down, except it will cost you $20.

The ad says, “How many times have you rushed your shopping because you felt guilty about your dog being “caged” in your car. … The WalkyLock is the ideal solution when you need to leave your dog inside the car for a short period of time, while you’re shopping or visiting a friend.”

Oh, I beg to differ! Leaving the back hatch cracked 6 inches doesn’t give you carte blanche to go running around the mall or drinking lattes with your BFF. This is a false sense of security and it does NOTHING to make your dog safer.

If you’ve ever left your dog in a car on a warm day, thinking, “It’s not that hot…” PLEASE STOP.

Study after study has shown that the temperatures inside a car can skyrocket, even on a relatively cool day, even in very short amounts of time. If there is direct sunlight, your car acts like a little heat trapper even when the outside temperature is nice and cool. People and pets have died of heat stroke when it was 70 degrees out. And cracking the windows doesn’t do a thing, nor does this useless product.

Just a couple of weeks ago I was out having lunch with my kids when I saw a little dog’s head pop up in the back of a Suburban in the parking lot. The back windows were, of course, cracked about 2 inches. It was 82 outside, and the car had been there for 45 minutes. As I was calling the police to come break the windows, the cashier managed to find the dog’s owner- enjoying a smoothie in the air conditioned restaurant while his dog slow-boiled in his car. The bitterest irony was that the place had outdoor seating, where dogs were allowed.

Needless to say, this product does not get the pawcurious seal of approval.

I don’t get a whole lot of physical contact with my clients. A handshake at the beginning sometimes (though I’m more of a big smile type greeter than a handshake greeter), on occasion a hug when it’s appropriate and the client initiates it, but as medical professionals it’s not something you do on a regular basis. Professional comfort zones and all of that. I spent more than enough time with hands on their pets to make up for it.

I’ve been seeing Mr. Kramer for about a year now. He owns Lola, a decrepit old poodle, and I do mean decrepit. The poor thing has just about every skin issue under the sun, and Mr. Kramer went along with our treatments for a while, until he ran out of money and realized nothing was working anyway. Then he did what he could for as long as he could to keep Lola comfortable.

Mr. Kramer is a pleasant man, though not at all the type of person you would spontaneously embrace, nor expect him to do the same to you. He always nods politely when I enter the room, puts down his Bible, and tells me what is going on with Lola. Then he philosophically shrugs, and off they go to endure more of the same.

Today, we euthanized Lola. It was the right thing to do for the poor old girl. Mr. Kramer had never euthanized a pet before, so I reviewed the process with him while Lola was getting a catheter placed. Then she left us, quietly, in his lap.

He nodded, picked up his Bible, and started to shuffle out of the room. Then he turned around. “I don’t think I will see you again,” he said sadly. “Thank you.” I told him how sorry I was and how I thought he did a great job with Lola.

He came back over to where I had my hand on Lola, placed his hand over mine, and waited until I looked up. “Thank you for everything,” he said.

It was the equivalent of getting a bear hug from anyone else. It was a very sincere gift, that moment of contact. I smiled back, and then he was gone.

There are few things I like to do less than anesthetize an overweight angry cat. Maybe an overweight bulldog, with a heart murmur. That would be bad too.

But I don’t see them nearly as often. At least once a week, I arrive to find an 18 pound cat here for a dental hissing at me from the confines of his carrier, glaring from beneath his folds of chub, just daring me to try and get a pre-anesthetic blood sample.

Fat cats have very little scruff. It’s like trying to hold a squishy watermelon, one with claws and teeth and a vendetta. My techs are much better at cat wrangling than I (a fact I remind them of continually in order to butter them up and get them to do all the dirty work) but sometimes even they get stymied, and then we have to sedate the cat.

Most vet clinics have a small assortment of drugs to choose from, based on the needs and health of the pet. The drug we use most often for very angry pets is a nice one, but it really knocks them out. And overweight animals, just like overweight people, can have a host of metabolic and respiratory issues that make deep sedation and anesthesia a little more dicey than it might be for other animals.

We don’t have much choice in the matter, unfortunately. When a cat cannot be safely handled, it’s better for him and for us to go ahead and sedate him. But I don’t like it. My tech will sit with him and watch him like a hawk during recovery, with me hovering nearby and occasionally sticking a cotton swab in his ear to try and get him to respond a little faster. They recover, albeit slowly. It’s stressful. I don’t like doing it.

Overweight angry cats are often angry for a reason. It’s hard to breathe. Their joints hurt. They have diabetes and asthma and cystitis. People pose them for pictures and think they are cute. And yet it’s a very difficult problem to combat, especially for owners who don’t see it as the big problem it really is.

While there are some similarities between cats and dogs when it comes to medical issues, I find obesity to be one area where there is a big difference between the two. Cats are obligate carnivores. They simply aren’t built to process carbohydrates the way other animals are. Yet we plug them full of carb laden dry foods that are a far cry from the types of food they eat in the wild- and look at the results. It’s tragic.

Did you know that some diabetic cats can be treated- to the point where they no longer need insulin at all- simply by a change in diet? Even those who continue to need insulin often have a vast improvement in their disease management on the right food. It’s amazing to see that kind of change, just from a switch in food.

It does need to be a food change, as opposed to a lifestyle change, when you are dealing with fat cats. Ever try to get one to go for a run with you? That doesn’t go well. But people who have fought with their cats over trying to get them to eat less calories and suffered the consequences of an unhappy cat in the house are often pleasantly surprised to find that the problem as much the quality than it is the quantity.  Less carbs. More protein. Less cat.

If there were just one thing I had to pick to wish* that people had more understanding of, it would be this: The best pre-made food for a cat is low carb and canned. If you can’t do both, do at least one. Your cat will thank you, and so will your vet as they gaze at your svelte little kitty in amazement. (CAVEAT: If your vet has recommended a different food, please talk to them before making a change. This is particularly important if your pet has other health issues that may make this type of diet a less optimal choice.)

*Veterinary-related wish, of course. If I had only one wish at all, it would be for more wishes.

“Do vaccines cause autism in dogs?”

Answer: No.

P.S. I’m pretty sure they don’t cause autism in people either.