Veterinary medicine, like many professions, can be quite time consuming. Adulting isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Going into rural mixed animal practice, the hours are long and the amount of time you spend on call is significant (for me, I’m on call every other week or 50% of the time). Now please allow me to check my privilege for a second so you don’t have to. I graduated veterinary school and got my dream job in my hometown right after graduating, which not many can say. I have a very supportive husband, and the support of my in-laws, my parents, and grandparents, and many members of my extended family that all live nearby. I came into a practice where the opportunity for practice ownership existed, and almost four years after graduating was able to become sole owner. I am blessed and love my job. That being said, sometimes I just don’t have time to do things I want to do. It also gets me out of things that I don’t really want to do also, so it has its benefits. Oh yeah, since you’re probably reading this: Mom, I’m too busy to go to that three hour documentary film you were telling me about. I’m so bummed. I really do need to learn the plight of the northern Canadian/Arctic grayling. It really sounds amazing, but I’m just swamped. The following is a list of things I (and many veterinarians) simply don’t have time for. Enjoy! 1.) Cooking - My advice to those dating or married to a veterinarian? Brush up on your cooking skills or get used to eating a lot of takeout. I’m sure there are exceptions to this rule. To my fellow vets out there that have the energy and desire to cook a balanced meal from scratch after a 14-hour shift, I raise my glass to you. My husband does about 99% of the cooking in our house, which is fine because he’s good at it and enjoys it. It is quite unfortunate that veterinarians don’t have time to cook since most of us are quite passionate about eating. During clinical rotations during veterinary school, “Food Days” were a big thing where everyone in your rotation (surgery, radiology, neurology, whatever that may be) would bring a covered dish or dessert. We would pretty much gorge ourselves all day long and be in a severe food coma at the end of the day. It was the one time we really couldn’t judge our regular fat cat patients. 2. ) Social Life - Unlike most veterinary students just out of school, I was fortunate to come back to my hometown, where I know a few people and at least have family around. However, even for a social butterfly like me, sometimes we simply don’t have the time and/or energy for a social life at the end of a long week. After meeting client after client, answering so many calls and questions, and doing my best just to keep the caffeine level in my body in between Debbie Downer and the Tazmanian Devil, at the end of the week I need a break from human beings. This is my advice to my veterinarian friends: Find a friend that will hang out in PJs, drink wine quickly, shut up and watch Game of Thrones, and only speak when they want to say a character is hot, but not Joffrey. They better say he’s creepy or kick them out. Then take one selfie from the neck up, so everyone thinks you’re out on the town. 3.) Cleaning - I’ll come home from a long day of work, decide I don’t have enough energy to clean, and then go on an 8-mile run instead. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I guess I have different priorities. Honestly, I just don’t like cleaning. I know veterinarians that have a spotless house 24/7, but I bet they just hide all their piles in giant closets that just aren’t in a 600 square-foot cabin. I’ll clean when I’m on call. I can’t go anywhere anyway. I might multi-task and watch Netflix too because that always goes well. 4.) Spontaneity - This is a generalization, but veterinarians as a whole don’t tend to be spontaneous people. We like to plan, we like order, and we like to know ahead of time what our day is going to involve. On top of that, our careers themselves don’t allow for a lot of spontaneity. An on call schedule leaves you in the lurch. No Wal-Mart runs, no movie theaters, no glass of scotch. This is not Mad Men, although I’d rock those dresses. Basically, if I’m on call, be prepared to get ditched at the last second or tag along. If we happen to be eating at the Mexican restaurant, be prepared to feed me my shrimp chimi I took to-go as we make it down a bumpy gravel on the way to pull a calf. I’ll need the nourishment for a long night and no one wants to see me hangry. 5.) Anything involving patience - After a day of being scratched by cats, nipped by dogs, and trying to convince your clients that you know more than their dog breeder, the 17-year-old clerk at PetSmart, or their Google search, our patience is generally wearing thin by the end of the day. I myself always wondered why patience was a virtue. Why can’t hurry the hell up be a virtue? 6.) People who only text, message or call when they want free advice - When you’re a veterinarian, you probably have a handful of friends or acquaintances when seeing their name on your phone or Facebook messenger, you know immediately that you’re in for a handful of questions asking for your advice (which they may or may not even follow). We live in a society of instant gratification. Want information on any number of things? Google it and you have an answer in seconds (which may or may not be accurate). Want to buy something? Go to Amazon and it will be shipped to you quickly. Want a pizza? Call or order online and it’s at your house in no time (unless you live in a rural area like ours and don’t get pizza delivery). Have questions about your pet? Hey, I can message a veterinarian on Facebook or text them if I happen to have their phone number. Do I want to answer questions about your sister’s dog’s anal gland problem on a Saturday night? Not really. Odds are other business professionals feel the same way. Honestly, we can’t diagnose problems adequately over the phone, nor can we discern the blurry close-up pictures you’re sending us. Additionally, we can’t and won’t prescribe medications without seeing your pet because we need to examine them to know exactly what they need. These messages or texts create a moral stress for veterinary professionals because we do want to help and we truly care about your pets. We also truly need some separation from our jobs and don't wish to be a 24-hour pet advice line. Be kind and respectful to your veterinarian, and call them during their regular business hours with questions. If it’s truly an emergency, call the emergency line of their clinic or the emergency veterinary hospital in your area. 7.) Romance - I was fortunate enough to already be married before I started veterinary school. A week or two before we started our first year of classes, our school had a program called VET where we went down to a Baptist camp in the Ozarks (kinda weird, right?), got to know each other, did team building exercises, and even a ropes course. While talking to an insurance rep at the orientation, she asked all of us at our table if we were married. I raised my hand. She looked at me with pity, saying, “Oh, that’s too bad. The divorce rate during veterinary school is really high.” My husband and I have always had a solid relationship, but this isn’t exactly something you want to hear before you even start veterinary school. Thankfully, we made it through vet school, and I’ve heard that the hardest year of marriage is the one you’re currently in, sooooo, crap. However, no matter who you are, if you’re a spouse or loved one of a veterinarian, it’s not going to be easy at times. Our other halves put up with a lot of crap (literally and figuratively), especially if they do our laundry. If you’re a veterinarian with a special someone in your life, I encourage you to go out of your way to make them feel special, even just once in awhile. Take them to the movies, cook for them for the first time in six months, do your own darn disgusting laundry, take your tight self to the store and buy them something nice. Some weeks, the most romantic thing we do is hold hands in the truck on our way back from replacing a uterine prolapse. But it really is the little things that count. As far as being a veterinarian and dating? Well, that’s a whole different can of worms that I don’t really have experience with. A single colleague of mine puts it this way, “Single dudes have no interest in listening to what I do, nor do they understand it.” She adds, “Plus when you have to stay after hours and cancel, they don’t understand you really aren’t blowing them off. But they still get their feelings hurt because, ya know, a dog is more important than them.” 8.) That darn pile of veterinary journals/magazines on my desk - This is something I have struggled with since graduation. I love my subscriptions to various veterinary journals and magazines. It's one of the many ways veterinarians can stay up-to-date on changes in the profession, new techniques, and methods. This, of course, is an addition to the multiple hours of continuing education I already complete each year. The trouble is finding time to read all these magazines. As a business owner and veterinarian, there are lots of things I have to do when I sit down at my desk. Things that have to be done before I can read magazines, like catching up on medical records, calling clients with test/lab results, doing follow-up calls on some of my sick patients, responding to emails, and calling back clients with questions. Some days I feel like I spend half of my day on the phone. I wonder why James Herriott didn't write about being on the phone all day? However, I always remain optimistic that I'll get to read my magazines eventually, and the pile grows and grows on my desk until the next batch of magazines arrive. I then give up and throw the old ones in the trash. At least I get to cross something off my to-do list. I think “never going to happen” is just the same as “done.” 9.) Walk-Ins - No clinic is immune to the walk-in conundrum. Unscheduled appointments can really put a wrench in things. I’m not talking about emergencies, such as animals getting hit by cars and being rushed to the clinic. I’m talking about people deciding to show up with their animals at random. There are some clinics (usually in larger cities) that are walk-in clinics or emergency clinics where this is more acceptable. However, most private practice veterinary clinics operate on an appointment basis. In our clinic, this can happen with both companion animals and large animals. I can’t tell you how many times my receptionist has answered the phone with a producer on the other line saying, “Hey, I got 40 calves in my trailer and I’m on the way to the clinic with them.” Half the time we have to tell people to turn around and go home or wait two hours. However, we probably experience this situation the most with pets, usually on Saturdays which are already busy. Question: Do you walk into your physician’s office without scheduling an appointment for a non-emergency condition? Most would say no because the receptionist would probably just laugh at you. Most clinics will accommodate clients as best we can, but sometimes we’re simply too busy. It usually takes forethought and sometimes quite a bit of work to get pets or livestock rounded up to take to the clinic. Before you start that process, it’s best to call your veterinarian’s office first. That ensures that you won’t have to wait as long and it keeps the staff at a veterinary clinic sane. 10.) People who call the emergency line for non-emergency things - My colleagues and I have discussed this struggle frequently. After years of practice, you adjust to being on call. Those of us that practice in smaller towns or rural areas get calls at all times of the day and night. We’re happy to do this as it is an important service to provide for your clients. However, every veterinarian will have to deal with clients that abuse the privilege of 24-hour veterinary access. Some clinics have separate emergency numbers that are listed in a phone book or on their website. My clinic simply forwards the phone to the veterinarian on call. Because of this, I have clients that legitimately think they will get an answering machine when calling this number, which is understandable. However, there are always those calls after-hours that can make you shake your head. There’s the call at 2 A.M. for the dog with the itchy ears or irritated anal glands. There’s the person that wants to schedule an appointment on Sunday evening. Or the person that wants a price quote for a spay on a Saturday night. Look, I get it. Sometimes the weekends and evenings are my first chance to breath and remember all the things on my to-do list. However, instead of calling your veterinarian the minute you think of it, make a to-do list and call them during their regular office hours. It will keep your vet sane and they will be eternally grateful. And that’s it folks. Those are the things I don’t have time for, so please don’t stop by my house unannounced because I’d really like you to think that I actually have it together. Maybe now I’ll have time to go on a hike with my dog or go for a run. I certainly will not be cleaning though. I hope I’ve made that clear.
2 Comments
It was a crisp, fall Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining, and I was just finishing up a run after work and getting ready to eat lunch when my phone rang. The intro to “The Walker” by Fitz and the Tantrums was blaring in my ears. When you’re a veterinarian, or work in a profession that you’re on call a lot, using your favorite song as a ringtone is a good way to turn it into your LEAST favorite song. I answered, “Hello, this is Dr. Stroupe.” A local producer said, “Hey Doc. I got a heifer that’s having trouble calving. You want to come here and pull the calf or have me haul her into the clinic?” “Which farm do I need to go to?” I asked. Just my luck, the location was literally less than a mile from my house. Because the farm was so close, I told him I would be there in a few minutes and not to worry about hauling her into the clinic. That would be the first of many mistakes I made that day. I hung up the phone, went inside, and hollered in the door to my husband Patrick, “Honey, we got an OB.” In case you’re wondering, OB is short for obstetrical and the abbreviation we use for an animal that is having trouble giving birth, usually in reference to cows having trouble calving. “Alright,” my husband said as he got up from the computer chair, pulling on his coveralls. Let me just say this: I am extremely fortunate to have a spouse that is so willing to help me on an after-hours basis. For the most part, he enjoys the farm calls. He probably wouldn’t say the same for restraining a fractious, bad-tempered or difficult, Yorkie for me at the clinic, but he still helps with that, too. We dressed in our coveralls, hopped in the truck, and headed down the gravel road. We pulled into the driveway a couple of minutes later and the producer was waiting for us on his fourwheeler. The producer walked up and greeted us. “Yeah...my son bought some bred heifers from the sale barn a few days ago. I told him it was a bad idea to buy third period (advanced pregnancy) heifers because we get more breach calves when we do.” I grabbed my OB tackle box, some warm disinfectant water, and my OB jack (just in case I needed it) and headed to the old barn. By the way, an OB jack is basically a come-along that you hook up to the cow in those rare cases where you need a little extra force to get the calf out. I hate using a jack and often cringe and cross my legs when I have to do so, but I feel getting it out of the truck is almost a good-luck charm. If it’s with me and ready to use, then I won’t need it. We walked to the small, old, wooden barn that was likely built several decades ago. Because this farmer was renting this ground to run his cattle, he hadn’t invested a lot in the facilities, and I can’t say I blame him. It’s hard to justify spending money on property that isn’t yours. The barn was open on both sides, but a corral inside the barn had been constructed with cattle panel. I approached the corral and the black angus heifer was spinning and snorting with her head lowered, clearly not happy to see any of us. “Ahhh, geez,” I thought to myself. I got my lariat out and made my loop. I started surveying the barn for a suitable post I could tie the heifer to. Honestly, there weren’t many as the barn had pretty solid sides. We finally found a square post in the corner we thought would work. I went around to the back of the barn to approach the heifer. On this side of the barn, the cattle panel was just propped up in the corner and not necessarily being held by anything. That was a big red flag, but I didn’t see a lot of materials or ways to build a reinforcement, so I took a deep breath and got my lariat ready to rope the cow. “#$&@!!,” I yelled as the heifer charged at the precariously placed cattle panel, which hit a loose board that almost fell on top of me. “Well, here goes nothin’.” I tossed the lariat at her head a couple of times as she spun in the corral. I caught her on the third try and tied her to the post. I’m just going to say this: You won’t hear me bragging about my roping skills because, quite frankly, I don’t have any. That might be selling myself a little bit short, but I like to tell producers that I am not a very good cowboy, and I am an expensive cowboy. I’ve even jokingly said that I charge by the throw. If that were really true, I would be a very rich woman by now. Once the lariat was tied, I placed a halter on the cow’s head and tied the halter to the same post. I then loosened the lariat so the cow didn’t choke while we were working with her. I grabbed my warm disinfectant water and OB box. As I approached the back end of the heifer, she was swinging and dancing around as much as she could. Patrick got in the pen with me to help push the heifer to one side. I put my plastic sleeves on, lubed up, and got to work. As soon as I reached into her, I felt the calf’s tail. “We’ve got a breach!” I said to the farmer. He nodded his head, not surprised. For those who are not aware, a breach is when the calf is coming butt first. I reached down and found the right hoof. “Give me my chain, please,” I said to Patrick as he dipped his hand into the disinfectant water and handed me my OB chain. I grabbed the end of the chain with my right arm and shoved it in as far as I could until I felt that hoof. I got down as low as I possibly could, and I pushed the chain from the outside of the leg to the inside of the leg. I then carefully tried to bring my hand around to grab the end of the chain from the other side and make my loop. In describing it, this process may sound quite simple but in reality this is quite difficult to achieve. It usually involves some grunting, cursing, switching arms when one of your arms gets tired (it pays to be ambidextrous in this profession), and fighting straining and slippery placenta. Finally, I grabbed the end of my chain once it was looped around the leg, pulled it to the outside of the heifer, and then threaded the other end of the chain through the loop on the end to create the loop I needed. I then pulled to tighten my loop while simultaneously pushing down with my other hand to make sure my loop got positioned just above the fetlock (joint above the hoof). As I was manipulating and positioning the calf, floods of amniotic fluid (uterus juice) came running out. It ran down my coveralls and into my boots, soaking my socks. A few minutes later, the cow urinated all over me, soaking through my coveralls and all layers of my clothing. This doesn’t bother me so much. I long ago got used to the amniotic fluid/urine shower mixture. Once my loop was in position, I pushed forward on the calf’s butt as hard as I could with one hand while pulling on my chain with the other hand. When my handy husband is there to assist me, sometimes one of us will push on the calf’s butt while the other one pulls the chain. Suddenly, the right hoof of the calf appeared and I breathed a sigh of relief. Getting the first leg out is a big milestone while delivering a breach calf. But, as you know, calves have two hindlimbs. So I reached in and went through the exact same steps with the left leg and eventually got it out. While breach calves can be quite difficult to deliver, this one wasn’t actually too bad compared to other breaches I’ve experienced. Both hindlimbs were out, so I repositioned the chains, and hooked the handles up to each limb. Patrick and I each took a limb and pulled.
Less than a minute later, we had delivered our calf. Unfortunately, the calf was dead. However, this wasn’t unexpected. I have delivered some live breach calves in my day, but it is somewhat rare. Patrick grabbed both handles and moved the calf off out of the way while I started gathering my things and getting them out of the pen before we took her halter off. At this point the heifer was tied to the corner of the barn, and her head was up against the precariously-placed cattle panel. I grabbed the end of my lariat and looped it through a loop on the side of the halter. I then started to climb over the cattle panel so I would be behind a barrier when I untied the heifer. This was a big mistake. Instead of walking farther over to the side before climbing over the cattle panel, I decided to climb over the cattle panel that was right in front of the heifer’s head. While the heifer was still tied, she saw me in front of her and started ramming my body against the cattle panel in front of her. I pulled up with all of my strength. “Keep moving up!” I kept telling myself, but it was quite difficult to do this with a 1200-pound heifer pushing me into the panel with all her might. With each thrust forward, the cattle panel wobbled precariously as the farmer on the other side tried to hold it steady so I didn’t get knocked off. Eventually, I was able to pull myself up to the top of the panel, but at this point the heifer was pressing my legs against the panel so hard that I couldn’t swing them around the jump on the other side to safety. I made multiple attempts to swing my legs around to the other side, but the heifer persisted. My bones started to burn as she started to press harder into the gate. The force increased and I started to come to the realization that she might break both of my legs or worse if I didn’t get to the other side of this cattle panel. The strange calm that had come over me was dissipating. My eyes widened. I looked at the farmer steadying the panel across from me, and he gave me a concerned look. The heifer pushed my legs harder and harder into the gate. My eyes widened and I started to panic. My husband was still off in the distance dealing with the calf, unaware of what was happening in the barn. The panic really set in, and I started to scream. My husband heard and came running behind the heifer, waving his arms and yelling. The heifer looked behind her, distracted by my husband’s antics, which gave me enough time to swing my legs around and jump over the cattle panel. I sat there for a few seconds, shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. In all honesty, the first thought that came to mind was, “I can’t believe I screamed like a darn sissy.” Actually my thoughts probably included more colorful language, but we’ll keep this PG since my mom reads this blog. The farmer leaned down asking, “Are you okay?” apologizing profusely. I said, “No hard feelings. I have no one to blame for what just happened but myself.” That was the truth. Were the facilities ideal? Not really, but it’s important for a practitioner to recognize when they’ve done something stupid. One misstep like that when dealing with large animals can lead to serious injury, a reality I had just become very familiar with. We released the heifer from the lariat and let her out into the pasture. My husband and the farmer helped me gather up my things as I gingerly walked to my vet trucking on bruised, sore, and scraped up legs. I made a squishing sound with each step from my soaked socks and boots. I lightheartedly joked, “Well, it’s a good thing I already went running today.” I kept smiling, we said our goodbyes, and we climbed in the truck to head home. We got a certain distance away down the driveway, far enough away from the producer, and I burst into tears. My husband gave me a sympathetic look. “I can’t believe I was so stupid,” I said between sobs. “It’s embarrassing!” My husband reassured me, saying, “There’s nothing you can do to change what happened. All you can do is learn from it. I’m sure they don’t hold it against you.” I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly emotional person. My feelings were taken over partly with embarrassment and partly from the fear of what just happened. Most veterinarians join the profession knowing that there are real dangers involved. However, that doesn’t make you immune from being shaken when it happens, and it doesn’t keep you from worrying that the next encounter could result in a long-term disability that could prevent you from working or living your life. Even worse, it doesn’t keep you from worrying about death. All you can do is learn from every situation. Don’t rush. Step back and assess each situation before acting. Sometimes that’s hard for someone with a “git ‘r done” personality like mine. We got home and I changed out of my coveralls and wet socks. For farm calls, I keep an old pair of boots in my truck with rubber slip ons over them. They generally stay in the truck so I can easily take off my nicer work boots and then put on the old boots with the rubber slip ons. I brought my work boots inside, and I turned them upside down to put on the boot dryer I have. A thick, reddish brown goo starts pouring out of them as I turn them upside down and running onto the floor. “Yuck!” I yelled as I grabbed paper towels and cleaner to clean up the mess and plastic bags to place under the boot rack. Once I turned the dryer on, the goo continued to pour out of my boots. “Well, I think these boots are ruined,” I said as I threw them in the trash. I guess in the grand scheme of things, ruined boots really aren’t a big deal. No sense in crying over ruined boots or spilled amniotic fluid/goo. But, in my opinion, it is okay to cry over a bruised ego. Well, it’s Valentine’s Day, and love is in the air! Dinner dates, flowers, jewelry, and yes, mating. In this case, I’m not talking about humans (which is a good thing, that would be creepy). That’s right. Spring is around the corner, and the animal kingdom is ready to reproduce! That includes your dogs and cats. In this blog post, I am going to share with you the most common “reasons” clients give me for not spaying or neutering their pets. I’m also including my responses, which are a bit more sarcastic, sassy, and candid than what I would give in the exam room (another perk to reading my blog).
Think again! Even if your pet is truly an “indoor only” pet, there is always the off chance that they can slip out the door and go outside. If you have a dog, it’s highly likely that they’re at least going outside to eliminate. If not, please don’t invite me over to your house. If and when they do, there is a likely chance they will find “love” or go looking for it. A male dog can smell a female in heat from two miles away. You think your fence will stop other male dogs from getting to your intact female? They will go to GREAT lengths to breed and spread their seed. Kind of like Jersey Shore. An “indoor only” intact animal, such as a male cat, might also start spraying areas of your house if left intact. This behavior is quite undesirable as there’s almost nothing worse than the smell of Tom cat urine. If you have an intact male dog, you may find that they are more aggressive. They are also more apt to slip out the door and go “looking for love.” Intact males are more likely to roam, and while doing so, can often get hit by a car or injured by other animals. Neutering eliminates roaming behavior in >90% of dogs. They may also display other undesirable behavior like humping your leg, other pets, or even the throw pillows. If you own an intact female dog, you will find that they bleed while in heat, which normally occurs every five-seven months. After cleaning up the mess a couple of times or dealing with “doggie diapers,” you will likely be running to the nearest veterinary clinic to get her spayed. Female cats? Well, let’s just say they become very vocal and active when in heat, during all times of the night. You could be awakened at all hours of the night while your cat sings you the mating song of her people. It will probably sound a lot like many of the Selena Gomez songs you’ve heard. Additionally, female cats can be in heat for up to ten months out of the year. Oy. Best to avoid all the hassle and the mess and just spay or neuter your pet. 2. My dog or cat is purebred, so I really feel that I should breed them at least once. If only I had a dollar for every time I heard this. For some reason, at least in my neck of the woods, people are under the impression that a purebred dog or cat is the equivalent of a rare gemstone or a royal genetic line that should be preserved. It’s true that every dog or cat is special in their own way, but breeding your pet simply because they’re purebred is a bit ridiculous. Many of the same people who utter these words have a purebred animal that has hip dysplasia, a hernia, or even a cryptorchid (undescended) testicle. All of these are undesirable traits that are inheritable and do not make your pet a desirable candidate for breeding. Approximately 25% of all animals in the shelter are “purebred.” Speaking of shelters, there is also a bit of a pet overpopulation problem. Five to seven MILLION companion animals enter shelters each year nationwide. Three to four MILLION of those animals (60% of dogs and 70% of cats) are euthanized each year due to lack of adoptable homes. Even if you can find homes for all the puppies or kittens from the litters you breed, that doesn’t guarantee that animal or their offspring won’t enter the shelter system. Others may feel a desire to breed their purebred pet because they see it as a money-making enterprise. Many in this situation will find that taking care of momma and puppies adequately can come with a pretty heavy price tag. If there are complications with the pregnancy, the female dog or cat may need a cesarean section. Then there’s the cost of feed. Lactating females burn a LOT of calories and need a lot of food (preferably a high quality puppy or kitten food so they don’t waste away). Maintaining the health of the puppies or kittens can also be quite costly. You have to consider the cost of dewormers and vaccine. If you have young puppies and neglect to vaccinate them, it is likely they could develop parvovirus, a very contagious and deadly virus. With all these costs in mind, it is quite difficult to get a return on your investment when selling these animals. Many would be surprised as to how difficult it can be to find homes for these puppies or kittens, despite being purebred. So no, your purebred dog or cat is probably not the Prince William of the pet world. Not to mention, breeding (especially a female) can put your pet’s health at risk. Trust me on that. 3. A dog or cat should have at least one litter or one heat cycle before spaying. There is absolutely no medical benefit to allowing a dog or cat to have one litter or heat cycle before spaying. In fact, spaying a dog or cat BEFORE their first heat drastically reduces their risk of developing mammary tumors or uterine cancer. Mammary tumors are the most common cancer in female dogs and the third most common cancer in female cats. This cancer is malignant or deadly in greater than 50% of dogs and 90% of cats. A female dog is 12 times more likely to develop mammary cancer than a dog that was spayed before her first heat and four times more likely to develop mammary cancer than a dog that has been spayed after two heats. An unspayed cat is seven times more likely to develop mammary cancer. The best option is to spay your dog or cat before their first heat, at four to six months of age. 4. My pets are littermates. They wouldn’t mate with each other. The answer is yes, I have heard this multiple times. People will often anthropomorphize, or humanize, animals to the point where they will often make statements like this. While cats and dogs can certainly feel emotions and grieve the way we do, they do not have the intelligence needed to differentiate their brother or sister from any other mate in the animal kingdom, kind of like the Lannisters from Game of Thrones. So unless you want to have the King Joffrey of the pet world on your hands, I would recommend spaying or neutering your pets ASAP. 5. I don’t want to neuter my dog because I’m a manly man and have an unhealthy and somewhat creepy attachment to my dog’s testicles. Okay, so I may have paraphrased this statement a little bit, but you get the idea. I run into many clients or individuals with this outlook each year. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman, but I just don’t understand this. This goes back to anthropomorphizing pets, as mentioned earlier. A dog really doesn’t care if he has testicles or not. If left intact, your male dog will likely experience at least one of the following scenarios. 1) They’ll be running around town, breeding everything in sight, kind of like Charlie Sheen. Trust me, this is not a good thing. Read the pet overpopulation facts listed earlier in this post. 2) They will be more apt to roam or suffer injuries due to roaming, like being hit by a car or getting injured from fighting other animals. 3) They’ll be cooped up inside and extremely sexually frustrated, like an acne riddled teenage boy who's waiting for a growth spurt. None of these scenarios sound pleasant, do they? Plus, testicles are ugly. That’s right, I said it. I hate balls. If my husband and I are running outside and I happen to see an intact male dog, he will likely have to put up with me making the scissor snipping motion with my hands. But for the weirdos out there who don’t think balls are gross, you can have Neuticals (prosthetic testicles) placed in your dog at the time of neutering. That’s right. I said prosthetic testicles. Our testicle-obsessed society has officially gone too far. But you know what? If paying $500 for Neuticals in your dog means you’ll actually neuter them, then I’m all for it. 6. I don’t need to spay or neuter my pet. No one in my hometown spays or neuters. Despite hearing this statement a few times, I am struggling to find a response that is professional. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against certain traditions. Tradition is important in a lot of ways. But for many traditions you may find that just because you’ve always done it that way, doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly ignorant. Yeah...I did say I would be more candid in this piece than I am in the exam room. All I can do is educate the client on the health benefits of spaying and neutering and cross my fingers that they listen to reason. 7. Spaying or neutering is painful for my pet. When an animal is spayed or neutered, they are placed under a general anesthetic. They do not feel any pain during the procedure. Most veterinary clinics (including my own) will place animals on pain medications before they even wake up and for several days after surgery to keep them comfortable. They may slow down a little for a few days, but most pets return to normal behavior and activity in 24 to 72 hours. As a pet owner, you will need to restrict their exercise for several days and monitor the incision daily for any signs of redness, swelling, or infection. However, complications with these procedures are extremely rare. 8. Spaying or neutering is too expensive. The cost of spaying or neutering pales in comparison to the cost of caring for puppies or kittens, or even the potential health complications that come with having an intact animal. If left intact, female dogs or cats can develop a dangerous condition called pyometra. With a pyometra, the uterus becomes infected and fills with pus. This infection can spread to the bloodstream and cause sepsis, which can lead to kidney failure. The treatment is immediate spaying, but that doesn’t guarantee survival in an already debilitated animal. As mentioned earlier, if left intact, dogs and cats are much more likely to develop mammary tumors. These tumors can be removed surgically, but often the tumors have already spread to other parts of the body or can return a period of time after the surgery. A dog or cat experiencing obstructive labor may need a cesarean section. All the surgeries I have just mentioned are MANY times more expensive than a routine spay or neuter surgery. Also, there are options out there for people with financial needs. In fact, my clinic has partnered with the local rescue PAWs in a spay or neuter discount program, which involves $60 off the regular price of spaying or neutering. For people who are limited financially, there are often non-profits of low-cost spay and neuter clinics that can be utilized. While spaying or neutering may involve a little expense in the short-term, it can prevent a lot of costly health problems in the long-term. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure! 9. Animals become less active or overweight as a result of spaying or neutering. As any animal matures, the diet and activity level need to be adjusted in order to maintain their ideal body weight. I certainly can’t eat the same things that I ate when I was 13 years old. Nor would I want to. Funyuns, chili cheese dogs, and eight Pepsi’s a day is not ideal. The heartburn alone would bring a grown man to his knees. Animals only become overweight when they are fed too much and not exercised adequately. 10. Children should be allowed to witness the miracle of birth. Cats and dogs often have their litters at night, in hidden places far from sight. Moreover, each litter an animal has can contribute to the millions of animals that enter shelters each year. Instead, maybe your child can befriend a local farm kid and experience the miracle of birth this spring as calving season rages on. This may be accompanied by a late night, a cursing farmer, and some physical activity that replicates tug of war. Or you could watch Call the Midwife on PBS. It is exactly as I picture childbirth: a miracle for sure, yet pretty darn gross and scary. A better solution might be to contact your child’s school to make sure they are being taught comprehensive and accurate sex ed. In conclusion, I’m sure you’ve gathered from this blog post that spaying and neutering your pets is important for their health and reducing pet overpopulation. Dogs and cats have a greater chance of a long life, good health, and quality of life when surgically sterilized. As pet owners, that’s really all we want for our pets, isn’t it? The best way to show your pets you love them is to make sure they don’t spread the love. So let Valentine’s Day be a reminder to spay or neuter your pets….and weird friends and relatives. “Geez!” I yelled nearly dropping my phone as I lay hidden under the covers on a Sunday morning. The shrill siren of “Ironside,” the fight scene background music from the Kill Bill movies, a favorite, started blaring on my phone, interrupting my oh-so-important Facebook trolling and Sugar Smash dominating. I looked at the number, forwarded from the clinic phone, and answered, “Hello, this is Dr. Stroupe,” as my husband started to stir next to me. This was our day off, so we were sleeping in, or my husband was, while I quietly hid the light from my phone under our large comforter until the emergency call came in. A local producer replied, “Hey Dr. Stroupe, sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a sow that’s farrowing and I need some oxytocin. Could I come up to the clinic and pick some up?” The sow was having some trouble. Oxytocin is a medication used to stimulate uterine contractions and helps with milk let-down. It is used in many species, but quite frequently with pigs. “Sure, I can be there in 20 minutes.” “Thanks, I’ll see you there.” It was 7:30 A.M., so it felt like an accomplishment to be able to stay in bed for so long, but my husband didn’t think so as he grumbled out of bed. “I’ll go in with you and then we’ll go for a run.” I have a great husband who is my running buddy and assistant on emergency calls, so we headed into town. I made it to the clinic just in time to grab some oxytocin off the shelf, make a drug label, throw in some syringes and a few different sized needles, as the producer pulled up in his truck for truck-side service. This is small-town America. We give great service to our hard working farmers. He said, “She already had two live piglets so I hope this will help.” “Give me a holler if you don’t see any improvement.” “Thanks,” and he drove away and we went on our way into town to start our run. It was a beautiful, crisp winter morning and the sun was shining. It felt great to shake off any remaining tiredness with a quick run in the cold air. As we ran our loop around town, dodging patches of ice that were melting on the road, and with only one mile to go in our run, the shrill siren started blaring again. The same producer was calling, “There’s a piglet stuck. Can you come out right now?” “I’ll be there as quick as I can,” and my husband and I picked up the pace, taking a shortcut back to my vet truck. I drove to the clinic to grab my insulated coveralls to go over my sweaty running clothes. As I was driving to the clinic, I called my most experienced technician, Omer, to make sure I knew where all of my pig dystocia (which literally means obstructive labor) tools were. I hadn't really visited that section of my vet truck...like ever. Howard County used to be speckled with small hog operations, but there aren't a lot of swine producers in our area anymore. The hog market bottomed out over a decade ago, and most of the farmers got rid of their pigs. This day and age, most swine producers are limited to large, confinement operations. Dr. Vroman and Dr. Taylor (the two older vets I've worked with) described a time when most of their work involved working with hogs, going out to farms and administering hog cholera vaccine. Dr. Vroman said he'd much rather take on a mean cow than a mean old sow. They're surprisingly fast for their size, and can knock you off your feet pretty easily. Their teeth are also quite sharp, and once they latch on, they don't want to let go. Naturally, my experience with hogs was limited. Once during my fourth year of veterinary school, I had actually delivered pigs. It was a pretty terrible situation. A potbelly pig came in to the veterinary school and had delivered one live healthy piglet the previous Monday...it was now Sunday. Obviously, at this point, the pig was horribly septic but somehow managed to walk herself into the clinic. Of all the students on the food animal rotation at that time, I had the tiniest hands, so I got the honor of delivering the rest of the piglets. My instructors told me to not even bother putting on gloves as they would take up too much room. They lubricated my hands and the sow thoroughly. I knew after several days of labor, the tissues would be quite fragile at this point. I very slowly and carefully slid my hand in, and I could feel the tissues give way. It wasn't a good feeling. I told my instructors what I felt, and they told me to do what I could and go ahead and deliver the piglets. I pulled out about five dead piglets, but by that point, it was clear that momma would not make it. She had been septic and fighting for far too long. I left the hospital later that night hoping I would never have a pig dystocia again. Hopefully this one would have a much better outcome. I found the tools I needed in the truck and headed out to the farm. As we pulled up to the barn, most of the other pigs were rooting around outside and basking in the sun, doing normal things that happy pigs do. I went into the barn, and the the sow was lying calmly in a farrowing stall. Luckily, this was not the picture of a mean old sow trying to bite me that I had in my head. The farmer, a healthy sized and pleasant man, was sitting on a bucket next to the stall. He said, “My hands aren’t small enough to help her.” Thankfully, this is my forte. She had two live piglets cuddled up under a heat lamp in some bedding. I placed my hands in my bucket of warm disinfectant water and instruments, lubed them up, and went right to work. There was a large piglet lodged in the pelvis. I tried to guide the piglet out just using my hands, but he was so large I wasn’t able to pull hard enough to get him out. I took my pig forceps out of the disinfectant, positioned them at the back of his head, and gently guided him out with the forceps and my hand. This would have been the largest pig in the bunch. Unfortunately, he was stillborn and attempts to resuscitate him were unsuccessful. I do perform mouth-to-mouth on newborn baby pigs and calves. Occasionally, but not often, you can bring them back to life with CPR. Yes, my husband knows where my mouth has been. The next piglet was just beyond my reach, so I gave momma a few minutes to strain and bring him closer to me. This guy was also large enough that I couldn’t bring him out just using my hands, so I manipulated the forceps to get them in the right position and guided the piglet out. This one was alive and kicking. We dried him off with a towel and placed him under the heat lamp. After a few minutes under the heat lamp, he went over to nurse. As my husband guided the new piglet to a teat and was trying to help the other two piglets back to teats, the producer said, “Careful now. She’s a Hampshire. That piglet squeals and you’re bound to lose a finger.” My husband chuckled, and made it back to the sow to help me with the next piglet. This piglet was about elbow deep, and I was able to guide her out with just my hands. This one was also unfortunately stillborn. The next piglet I could feel was alive and kicking from the inside. I exclaimed, “We got a live one!” The worry from my previous delivery experience was starting to fade. Because this little guy was so vigorous, he was actually a little harder to deliver. Every time I would get my hand in position, he would move or kick away from me. He even bit down on my finger with his little needle teeth. However, I pulled him out, dried him off, and he was kicking and squealing in no time. Throughout this whole process, we would take the placenta and throw it outside as we went. The dogs outside the barn were waiting expectantly for this little treat, and a black dog would even come to the door of the barn and look at us waiting for more. A couple of cats were also observing this process, but they preferred to stay on the warm bales of hay and couldn’t be bothered with the indignity of being thrown treats. Other pigs would occasionally peer in, root around, and grunt at us. I went in for the next piglet, and I could just barely brush his snout with the tips of my fingers. I decided to give momma a few more minutes to push him closer to me. During these “rest periods” I would have to get up, stand, and move my legs around. Kneeling on the ground for long periods of time in the cold right after running without stretching is a recipe for disaster. I went back in, and the piglet was just a touch closer but still hard to reach. Luckily, I was able to grasp her mandible (lower jaw) with my thumb and forefinger and pull her closer to me. As a veterinarian that has been practicing a few years, I have become quite adept at doing small movements, grasping, and manipulation in confined spaces during a dystocia. During my first year of practice, my forearms burned until I was able to build up the strength to easily make these manipulations, all while fighting straining from the animal, folds in the uterus, and slippery placenta. This piglet was also alive and kicking, but a runt. She was nearly half the size of her littermates. However, what she lacked in size, she made up for in spunk and vigor. She also stood up and nursed quicker than all of her other littermates. At this point, we had five live piglets and four stillborns. Not the greatest odds, but I was at least pleased to deliver some healthy babies. Time passed, and every time I checked her I didn’t feel another baby. I gave her some injectable calcium, as it often helps in these cases once the pig (and uterus) get worn out. After about 30 minutes and periodic checks, I told the producer, “I think that’s all there is to get.” “Yeah, I think that’s it.” “But watch her carefully. I’ve given her a few medications to help with energy and fight infection, but give me a call if she doesn’t act right.” It was a successful morning, and I was on my way. It was now almost 11 A.M., and I was getting quite hungry as I had left the house without breakfast or coffee. Despite being hungry and a little tired from caffeine withdrawal, a feeling of satisfaction was present. While I love working with companion animals (dogs and cats), you get a different sort of feeling after a farm call. Mixed animal practitioners develop a different kind of relationship with livestock producers, which is very different from the relationship with pet owners. With producers, you are often working side by side for sometimes a couple of hours (like in this case) as a team. You’re not only helping the producer with their animal, but you’re also helping them make money. While the livestock industry is certainly economically driven, you would be surprised at the number of producers that are quite attached to their animals. They truly care for their health and well-being (contrary to what PETA might tell you). This particular sow had a name and was basically a pet. This is why I love being a mixed animal practitioner so much. I have to get out of my comfort zone and do things I’ve never done before, case in point.
I went home, threw my soiled coveralls and clothes in the washer, took a hot shower, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, fried potatoes, and bacon (oh, the irony). I love pigs. They’re adorable rooting around in dirt, and their piglets are incredibly cute. But let’s face it, they also taste amazing. Anyway, experiences like this help me gain confidence, so I realize that I can be thrown into a completely new situation and adapt and get a good outcome (not that I haven’t had my fair share of “Oh s#$%!” moments). The longer I’m in practice, the more I learn to take a deep breath, take things in stride, roll up my sleeves, and get to work. |
Jessica Stroupe, DVM
Archives
August 2017
|