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

I had some fantastic clients go through some horrible circumstances this year. It comes with the job, the grief and the sadness, and you get used to it to a degree, but there are some stories that hit you even with your walls in place.

A couple of weeks before Emmett died, one of my favorite clients lost their beloved 3 year old dog. That dog was, for lack of a better word, their kid. They had no human children, and they funneled all of their energy and emotion into her. She was their life. She died suddenly, in a tragic accident that could have happened to anyone, but it happened to them, and the grief that would have pummeled any of us truly flattened them.

I know that some people who have children- and even some who don’t- scoff at the people who say “my pet is like a kid.” It’s hard to explain. Obviously they are not the exact same, but it’s in a similar vein. And to them, the grief etched on their faces was no different than that of anyone who has lost the one creature in this world they hold most dear.

They called me today to ask if I would be a reference when they were ready to get another dog. Of course, I said, and told them how happy I was to hear that they were thinking about it. They expressed some reservations and some guilt about wanting another dog, so I told them about Emmett and Brody. As much as I blab about them here, I try not to spend too much time at work dong the same- I’m getting paid to listen to other people’s stories, after all, but in this case it seemed OK. That made them feel a lot better.

Pets are like big furry band-aids, aren’t they? The wounds to our heart don’t heal any faster, but it cushions the blow and makes it easier to bear to have them around. Forgive me, but I have to. I’m going to quote Sleepless in Seattle. Leave now if you must.

(waits for the guys to exit the blog)

“People who truly loved once are far more likely to love again.” Profound words via Rob Reiner. Deal. Dr. Marsha said that to Tom Hanks when he was talking about his wife, but it works here too. It doesn’t JUST apply to humans. I can’t wait for these clients to come in with another pup to dote on.

If there is one thing I think I do fairly well, it’s helping people say goodbye to their pets. I don’t know if it’s gauche to say that you are good at euthanizing dogs, but it’s the truth. I feel like I am pretty compassionate and I go out of my way to make the experience one as minimally traumatizing as I can. I have a procedure that works pretty well, and it’s almost always exceedingly peaceful and quiet.

Today, I saw an owner who had made the decision to say goodbye to his 17 year old retriever ravaged by age, arthritis, and something very suspicious for cancer. It was a good decision. The man had never been through a euthanasia before, so I talked him through the process and what to expect. His wife couldn’t bring herself to come, so he was there alone. He asked if he could take Bear for a walk before he said goodbye, and I said, “Of course. Let my receptionist know when you’re back.”

An hour and a half later, he still hadn’t returned. I asked my receptionist to give him a call, primarily to make sure he was OK, and to see if he was still coming since I had to get into surgery. He showed up right as my techs were inducing a spay. Which was fine, but I was feeling more rushed than I normally like to be when dealing with this sort of thing.

We get a catheter in Bear’s arm, I get my medications together, and head into the room to start the process. There is a pause as I send the tech back out for a muzzle- poor Bear was so sore that he snapped whenever I tried to touch his arm, and because of the time crunch I didn’t have enough time to let the sedatives kick in as much as they normally would have.

So here we are, stressed dog, crying man, me trying to be efficient yet kind. I start the injection. I’ve told everyone in the back to be quiet so there is no laughter floating in the room. We have achieved calm.

Then I hear it.

Some moron left their cell phone on “NUCLEAR BLAST” in the back, and with perfectly poor timing it started ringing. And not one of those quiet xylophone key rings, or a discreet “do doo do”; this person had chosen a song.

“IF YOU LIKE IT THEN YA BETTER PUT A RING ON IT

IF YOU LIKED IT THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT

WUH UH OH OH OH OH, OH OH, UH OH, OH OH OH”

I did what any professional would do in that situation. Without stopping, I leaned over and hissed at my tech to please go turn the phone off, and said, “I’m sorry about that,” to the owner, who was fortunately so focused on Bear that I think he didn’t even notice. I hope he didn’t notice. It was loud.

Then I ran in the back and grabbed my phone to see WHAT was so important that they had to call me at just that moment. *sigh* Everyone was sitting in the back silently, with their hands over their mouths. This is the sort of thing, had it been someone else’s phone, that I would have done a lot of gesticulating about, but since it was me all I could do was purse my lips and say, “Not a WORD.”

In my defense, my son was home sick with Grandma and I had already run out in between appointments to get medicine for him; I had turned my phone on high so I could hear it in surgery because I was expecting a call from the pediatrician’s office. But, in my rush to get Bear taken care of so they wouldn’t have to wait in the lobby for me to finish surgery, I forgot to turn it back down.

How mortifying. I’ve  been beating myself up over that one all day. It’s pretty unforgivable. I thought nothing could top Kanye West for rudeness, but that came close. I’m one of those people who obsessively checks to see if my phone is off in theaters, doctor’s appointments, and everywhere else it would be deemed inappropriate, so this is a big, big faux pas. I’m back to the Old Ben chimes.

September 13th marks the third annual National Pet Memorial Day. I didn’t even know there was a National Pet Memorial Day, and it took a bit of digging to determine how this day came about (it appears to have been designated by the International Association of Pet Cemeteries), but just so you know, it’s the second Sunday of September.

I wrote a post about Emmett’s last trip to Dog Beach before I knew it was his last trip to Dog Beach, and I never did post it. It seems like as good an excuse as any to finally get to share it:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We call this “living life to the fullest.” Otherwise known as, it’s another gorgeous day so why not hit the beach again?

We were joined in the adventure by my trusty tech Amber, and her wirehaired dachshund Sergeant.

He likes to play hula hoops with his frisbee.

It was busy, per usual.

While Sergeant was content to watch from the shore, Emmett plunged on in. The water was fine.

This dog won the award for coolest looking dog at the beach:

So, I’m assuming basset and dalmatian. He definitely had a Basset demeanor (fortunately).

A good time was had by all.

I put “blog”, “facebook”, or “twitter” on the left of each entry with the name of the entrant on the right so I know which place the winning comment came from. And the winner is:

Congratulations Olga! If you can send your e-mail address to drv@pawcurious.com, I’ll get your e-certificate out to you ASAP!

Thank you for all the entries! I just went through the process of documenting all the entries, adding in the extras- everyone who gave me a joke got an extra one.

Tomorrow I will have the 5 year old pick a name at random.

It’s a little surreal to think that it has already been eight years since the events of September 11th. The coverage over the past couple of years has been quieter and quieter, as those sharp visceral memories have faded into sad remembrances of a horrible time in our history.

I was far from New York at the time, in my last year of vet school in California. My mother woke me up with a phone call, telling me to turn on the TV. We silently sat and watched the towers fall; both of us alone, husbands out of town. Then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I went to school. I was in an independent research rotation at the time, alone in an eerie lab glued to the radio, no one to talk to to process what I was hearing. I was so lonely and shocked that I talked to the religion peddling kids who came by the next day, and that I never do.

So many fallen. So many heroes emerged. And because it’s what I do here, I would like to acknowledge all who gave so much, including the amazing search and rescue dogs of September 11th.

For those who are interested, there is a book called Dog Heroes of September 11th, easily found on Amazon and, in my case, the library. It’s an arresting look into the world of urban search and rescue canines.

The picture above quite honestly brings me to tears. It’s hard to explain. The men and women who were there on that terrible day and those that followed are true, incredible, selfless heroes. There is no other word for it and I don’t in any way intend to minimize that by saying that despite this, the dogs are what really knock the breath out of me. An excerpt from the book:

“I said to Piper, ‘Go find.’ He would paw or whine, and then he would look up at me. And as soon as he put his nose to the ground, the firefighters were all over him. They were so crazed to find one of their brothers buried where Piper had indicated. That’s when I started feeling the deep depression they were feeling. There were 10 or 12 dogs on our search team. In all, Piper and his buddies found about 15 bodies.

They didn’t have the benefit of watching around the clock coverage on CNN. They had no idea what this war-torn landscape of bleak rubble represented. They just found themselves in its horrific midst, inhaling what I can only imagine to be nauseating, overwhelming smells, and without question did what they were asked and headed on in because that is what their handlers asked of them. I don’t know that I could have done the same. They went, they did what was asked, and some paid a tremendous price. Unlike the people present, many of whom still suffered respiratory illnesses after the fact, the dogs did not have protective masks.

I’m taking a moment to remember, and to marvel at this illustrative moment of the strength of the human-animal bond. Courage is not the sole property of humanity. My thoughts are with all of those personally affected by this day.

Edited to add: I found a great site on Twitter thanks to some RTs. If you would like to read some more stories of these incredible dogs, check out the Search Dog Foundation.