Non-Client Related

Like I mentioned before, we've been crazy busy lately - not only do we have a huge influx of boarders and sick pets, but half our staff decided that now would be a good time to take their vacations. Now, there's a policy that no more than one person can take a vacation day at the same time - if you want that day off too, you have to find someone to cover you. If no one will cover for you, then you have to have it approved by Boss Vet. Not too complicated, right? Except that many many moons ago, everyone gave Boss Vet their vacation days and she approved all of them without actually looking at the dates. Henceforth, the shit hit the fan when everyone (including Boss Vet) realized that we were going to be working with a skeleton crew for the two busiest weeks of the year - well, actually only half of "everyone" cared, because the other half had already packed their bags and were getting the hell out of Dodge. Whoops.

The remainder of the staff consisted of a couple kennel people, a couple receptionists, and moi. This was essentially the veterinary equivalent of a miniature apocalypse, and the beginning of my slow descent into insanity.

I actually started crying on Saturday morning when the receptionist told me that the only kennel person with any shred of knowledge of lab or exam had just called off sick, thus leaving me all alone to run a full book of doctor appointments and tech appointments (scheduled for the same time slots) for the EIGHTH day in a row (I may have over-reacted a little, but I was low on sleep and high on caffeine). Also, I was working with Slow Vet, and while she is incredibly smart and cautious and thorough and she is my first choice for my own pets, it's hard to convince the clients her miraculous skills after they've been waiting for 50 minutes. It is physically impossible for one person to be responsible for getting a client in the room, going over estimates, gathering a history, getting vaccines ready, gathering samples, setting up and reading heartworms/fecals/ERDs/UAs/cytologies, holding pets for the exam, putting all the charges in the computer, doing paperwork and cleaning up, while simultaneously starting two more appointments AND answering phones without getting behind.

If I wouldn't have had my shiny clicky pen, I might have killed someone. I guard that thing with my life.

Most of the day-to-day appointments at a small practice are your basic annual exams, ear/eye/skin infections, UTI's, URI's, etc etc - very important for the health of your pet, but on the excite-O-meter, they wobble right around a solid 1.5-2 out of 10. However, our awesome client base is guaranteed to bring on the crazy every once in a while.

Case: Young couple with a 3 yr old M/N Lab, not acting right, not eating well, vomiting and diarrhea on and off for the past few days. Fecal spin and smear = negative. Slight fever.

Me: "Anything you can think of that he could have gotten into or swallowed? Any plants, poisons, trash, toys, etc.?"

Husband: "No."

Wife: "Well, actually he did eat something. But it's not important."

Me + Husband: "What did he eat?"

Wife: "I can't tell you in front of my husband. It's too embarrassing."

Me: "I can assure you that whatever it is, I've seen it at least twice before. Really. Tampons, pads, bras, panties, condoms, you name it. Can it really be worse than that?"

Wife: "No, really, he'll make fun of me. Anyway, it's not important."

Husband: "I guess I'll just excuse myself then, honey." (leaves room)

Me: "Well?"

Wife: "I still can't tell you."

Me: ::headdesk::

The vet tried to drag it out of her too, but to no avail. They declined diagnostics so we sent the pup home on i/d and antibiotics and famotidine - I called today and he is apparently doing much better. My brain cells, however, will never recover.

Receptionist hands me the chart for the drop-off appointment. New client, new dog, just adopted from shelter. The shelter records indicate that she is a 2 yr F/S white & brindle Whippet mix. Her name is Libby (not really). Good stuff. I check her vaccine history and get her boosters ready. I grab a leash and walk out the drop-off cages, where I see three dogs - a big Lab, a Pit Bull, and a nervous-looking Maltese sandwiched in middle cage. Hmm. No Libby. I trot off to find the receptionist.

Me: "Where's Libby?"

Receptionist: "In the third cage over there. Didn't you see the name tag?"

Me: "But Libby's a Whippet. There are no Whippets."

Receptionist: ::blank stare:: ::shrug::

At the county shelter, you see, Pit Bulls have three days to live and are considered "unadoptable". Also, the shelter isn't in the business of adopting out fighting dogs to potential dog fighters. However, since shelter workers possess the most hemorrhaging of the bleeding hearts, we see lots of purebred/mostly purebred Pits passed off as Lab Mixes and Boxer Mixes.

Clearly, they are getting more creative.

I pulled the owner aside when she came back to make sure that she understood that Whippets do not weigh 50 pounds of solid muscle and do not possess enormously broad heads and linebacker shoulders.

Very sweet and very gorgeous pit bull, though. She followed me around and sat on top of my feet whenever I stopped for a second.

Put the Puggle down and back away

We've been crazy busy lately due to the holidays (we do boarding too). Pets take a back seat during the whole Christmas happy-fun-family-time, so our schedule for each day this week has been filled to the brimmed with:

1.) My dog has been vomiting and not eating for a week can you get him in RIGHTNOW but I don't have any money cuz of the holidays - oh he's been limping too.

2.) Friday morning: I got my kid a new puppy for christmas and the breeder says he's gotta be seen within 72 hours, I need to get in RIGHTNOW. Also, I don't have any money, I spent it all on the puppy.

That's right - the Christmas Puppy Season has arrived in full-force. It's this time of year that makes me really want to send Petland a giant pile of steaming poo for having to endure all the mind-numbing agony of the Petland Puppy Appointment over and over and over and over.......

(1)
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith, but "Schnoodle-Tzu" is not a breed choice in our software, so you'll have to settle for "Poodle Mix" on Princess's account, OK? No, I'm afraid it's not going to be AKC recognized anytime soon. That's right. The puppy-mill supporting corporation that feeds on the souls of window-shopping suckers lied to you."

(2)
Owner: "What's this sqooshy thing here on her belly?"
Me: ::poke poke:: "That would be an umbilical hernia. We'll keep an eye on it and correct it during her spay unless it gets bigger."
Owner: "Oh, we're not going to have her spayded. The kid at the petstore said she's got papers."

(3)
Owner: "What does cryptorchid mean?"
Me: It's veterinary speak for "Your neuter cost just went up."

(4)
Owner: "He's a Chinese Crested - Coton hybrid. Don't you see it in the tail?"
Me: "Are you sure? He sure looks like an Irish terrier. What with the wiry red coat and all..."

On a serious note:

Good breeders are hard to find, because it's not cheap to do all the testing and certification prior to breeding and all the veterinary care during the pregnancy and during/after the birth. It's hard to make a profit off a litter, if there's a profit to be had at all. It's much easier to just smash two dogs together and farm out whatever little genetic minefields are produced to the highest (or first) bidder. For the love of god, if you want a purebred dog, do your research, visit lots of breeders, ask lots of questions, and then ask more questions. Find a breeder that really loves the breed and knows what they're doing - the puppy you choose will be your responsibility for the next 10-15+ years, inherited health problems and all. It's worth a little extra time and money if it means a healthy, well-bred, well-tempered dog. It's not the petstore puppy's fault that they were born in a puppy mill, but by buying that puppy, you enable the whole process to continue.

Joyous excerpts from today:

1.) "How long as problem X been going on for?" is not an abstract question. "Awhile", "A long time", "Not too long", and "Somewhere between a week and 5 months, he goes outside alot" are not too helpful. Also, when you tell me that Fluffy's ear infection has been raging on for three weeks, but swear to the doctor that it's only been since yesterday, everyone gets confused.

2.) That 6 months of Heartgard you bought back in '04? It's expired now, and no, you have NOT been giving it every 30 days all year-round. At least be creative with your lies. "I got some after my wife's cousin's boyfriend's sister's dog died" might get you a pass, but "I swear I just bought it here! You must just not keep very good records. I put the stickers on the calendar and everything" will not. Kthxbai.

3.) Standing in the corner and talking on your cell phone while the vet and three techs wrestle your growling, chomping, blood-thirsty piranha mix into submission is strongly indicative of your laissez-faire philosophy towards discipline. Also indicative of this is your three year-old, who sneaks up behind the vet and sprays her leg with Rocal. True, you're not allowed to restrain your animal, but a couple verbal corrections are highly appreciated. If that's too much, at least hand me a paper towel to sop my blood off the table.

4.) Your pre-teen child is not an acceptable substitute for you or your spouse/significant other/SOMEONE over 18. It's very nice that they want to be a vet when they grow up, but you still cannot send them in your place for your appointment because it's "just the doggie doctor". Especially when you're just sitting out there in the car. That's right, you. I can see you. Oh, and you didn't send them with any form of payment? Scoot.

5.) Your new kitten Princess Mittenpaws has never been to a vet and has never had vaccines or deworming, but she's already had a FeLK/FIV test? I'm in awe. Surely you have proof of such a miracle? No? I see.

Award-winning phone call for today:

(Background: Our hospital is one of the first ones listed in the almighty phone book, so we're at the front lines for the crazy attacks.)

Me: "Super Awesome Animal Hospital, this is Super Awesome Me, how can I help you?"

Not A Client: "Uhh, hey there. I's gots a question, uhhh, bout's mah pit bulls."

Me: "Ok, I can try to help you." (Oh boy.)

Not A Client: "Walls, I's gots this girl pit bull, ya see, and I was plannin' on matin' her with my male, ya see." (Always a flawless plan. Please continue.) "Buts, my friend brought HIS male over yesterday, and he kinda gots to her first." (Superb! At this point, I'm anticipating the "Can I get her an abortion without spaying her?" question. To his credit, that did not come up.) "I'm gonna keep the puppies and all, but when I breed her to my male next time I don't wants my male's puppies to look like my buddy's male." (WTF?)

Me: "I'm sorry?

Not A Client: "Wall, his male's sperm will, like, stay in her blood and all, ain't that right? So once she has his puppies, all the rest of her litters will look like him too?" (He didn't say sperm, it was far more colorful.)

Me: "No, no, there's no sperm in her blood."

Not A Client: "So where does it go?"

Me: "Uhh...." (I then tried to briefly explain the basics of reproduction and sperm + egg = embryo, etc. He interrupted me halfway through.)

Not A Client: "So my male's puppies won't look like my buddy's pit?"

Me: "No. Just...no."

Not A Client: "Mmk, thanks."

The guy was very nice and all, just seriously shaky on his Punnett squares and had no business breeding dogs. Honestly, where do people get this stuff?


The best breeding discussion of all time, however, goes to the conversation between my boss and a client hellbent on breeding her two Rottweilers.

Client: "I gotta breed 'em, my kids want puppies/everyone says how pretty they are/other bs reason."

Vet: (has already done the why-not-to-breeed speech, looks at the two genetic minefields on the floor in front of her, and sighs.) "Well, they're not related, at least, right?"

Client: "Yah, he's her uncle."


More breeding anecdotes later.

First Date Icebreaker

Almost inevitably in the life of your dog, he will likely exhibit the tell-tale signs of scooting across the carpet, and licking and/or chewing at his rear end. Tell-tale signs of what, you ask? Anal glands, hooray!

Technically speaking, they are scent glands located on either side of your dog's rectum, right inside the anal sphincter. They're at about 8 and 4, if you apply clock imagery to your pet's anus (no need to thank me). If enlarged, they feel sort of like grapes. Grapes that need to be squeezed. Only instead of grape juice, you'll get a light yellow, slightly opaque, highly odorous liquid that was once used as a scent marker when dogs were still running around doing the wild dog thing. They are supposed to empty a little bit of fluid with every bowel movement, but they can easily become clogged and enlarged.

And that's when we meet.

Actually, if given the choice between doing a nail trim or anal glands, I usually choose anal glands. They're gross, yeah, life sucks. During a high school shadow day a few years ago, I watched a girl turn an amazing shade of white and crumple to the floor of the exam room when the smell hit her. Hilarious. But suprisingly, most dogs are perfectly stoic about having my finger inside their nether regions, but do a wild-eyed kamikaze dive off the table and slither under the chair as soon as the nail trimmers come out. When it's a 90-lb lab, that action usually ends in two people, a muzzle, improvised wrestling moves, styptic powder (b/c the nails are always black, of course), and an ever-helpful owner breathing on the back of my neck.

So yes, bring on the anal glands. But thank god humans don't have them.

Genesis

After 6 years as a highly trained monkey in the veterinary field, I've arrived at the conclusion that it may be cathartic to express my various opinions, frustations, and general anecdotes through writing (anonymous as it may be). I promise to try to update frequently, and keep an upbeat spin on things - like most others, my job is filled with some great stuff and some not-so-great stuff on a daily basis, but with th extra touch of pet-induced wackiness thrown in. Hopefully someone besides me finds it interesting.

Some not-too-divulgent background:

I work in a small animal private practice in an affluent suburb - we have two doctors and a close-knit staff, and a steady flow of a "diverse" group of clients and their fur-children. I am a pre-vet student gearing up for application to vet school in the very near future - my life breaks down as follows:

50% of time: Toiling through biochemistry, organic chemistry, anatomy, physiology, physics, and math. Also known as masochism.
30% of time: Placating crazy cat ladies, scrubbing anal gland juice/blood/urine out of my scrubs, looking up lolcats on the internet when the boss goes on lunch break.
15% of time: House/Pet-sitting, aka, eating all your food. Don't blame me, you left a full fridge and a starving college student alone in a room together. Thanks for the check, by the way.
5% of time: Sleeping. Usually sans pillow, as that becomes my cat's official bed at about 2 am.

Anywho, real topics coming soon. I'm hungry now.