The Vet
Taking nothing away from any veteran, people who we all owe a debt of gratitude for having done what they've done, the term "vet" seems to now be giving way to a different definition as in being a destination. Tell someone close to you that you took Chloe to the vet and likely the recognition is immediate; you have a cat or dog named Chloe and she needed to see the animal doc. And from my observations, animals are about as excited at this as we are when we are heading to our doc...it means a shot or a poke or an X-ray, but generally something less than pleasant. So in a bit of serendipity, I happened to be reading the book by veterinary surgeon, Dr. Nick Trout, when my dog slipped down the last three stairs and in an instant becoming 95% paralyzed in her back legs (her tail will wag now and then). Tell Me Where It Hurts* touched home as I got to page 184 and read about his teenage years with his own dog Patch who began experiencing the same effects of paralysis (the one difference being that unlike his dog, our German Shepherd was a rescue puppy who was thought to be paralyzed in her hind quarters due to being born with and still having two dislocated hips): It was as if Patch's body were controlled by two actors trapped inside a pantomime dog costume, with the guy playing the head and the front end all alert and coordinated, while the guy playing the rear was all stoned and wearing roller skates. From Patch's belly forward he was a normal dog --bright, eager to please, and utterly without pain-- defying time gracefully, had it not been for the Jell-O in his back legs...This refusal or failure of the two halves to communicate is the animal's downfall. Head and front end may have purpose and direction, but the straggler in the rear keeps holding them back, literally dragging the dog down. In our backyard Patch would scramble forward like a soldier advancing under enemy fire before collapsing, unable to move, barking for assistance to hoist his withered back end and restore his balance by setting his feet like a surveyor's tripod. This was now us, helping our dog pee and poop as we pressed her bladder and said all sort of encouraging and yet humiliating words to her. With normal eating and drinking and sitting up, she looked more than regal, a queen now facing the mutinous soldiers behind her and wondering what she had done wrong, as puzzled as we were at this behavior...or lack thereof. A boycott of part of her body on a grand and life-changing scale.
We're far from putting our dog down, willing to look into the myriad of support wheelchairs (priced higher than human wheelchairs) and meds and veterinary visits. And even Dr, Trout recognizes this attachment in the pet owners he's seen and takes nothing away from that as they crunch budgets and seek answers and help, often at any cost, Here is the danger of doling out all that carefree, irresistible, unconditional love for our children and our pets. Chances are our children wil outlive us. We believe we will not have to bury them, praying that we will be spared the unbearable grief of their loss in our own lifetime. Not so our pets. We pour our heart and soul into the animals in our lives, insisting that they are our children, that we love them no less than if they shared our DNA, and we do this with a certainty that for all this joy, we are guaranteed to lose them, to bury them, and somehow, to face life without them once again...In our high-speed, anonymous, and entitled world of complicated and overplayed lives, true love has never been harder to find and believe in, let alone sustain. When the cure for insecurity and meaningful conversation is to slap a cell phone against your ear, hide within your iPod, or tap out a cryptic instant message, is it any wonder that we find comfort and solace in hairy, furry, and scaly companions? Far from the sleazy bar scene, blind dates, and Web sites dedicated to finding your soul mate, pets offer a relationship guaranteed free from lies, deception, and infidelity, where silence feels comfortable, where words come easily and unforced, where demands and a need for tolerance are nominal (unless that special someone tries to claim the couch for themself or insists on sharing a bout of flatulence). Imagine a marriage, with only minimal effort on your part, guaranteed not only to be successful but to endure. No prenuptial agreement. No worries about divorce. In our world of flawed, failed, doomed, and dangerous relationships, here is a chance to find true love. Here is a chance to find love without the risk.
The price we pay for this unconditional love is monetarily high, nearing $60 billion as of last year according to the pet trade leader, APPA. And for many, that monetary limitation can either bring a sharp dose of reality to the forefront or stick to you like a guilt-ridden tattoo...or both. As my friend remarked, when growing up on a farm the medicine for a sick animal was either to have it fend for itself or to give it a compassionate (?) bullet. Commodity or child, necessary burden while needed or a friend for life? Often the lines become blurred as more years passed by. And for the veterinarian, it is often no easier. Here are some of the thoughts he mentioned when he has to put down an animal: I allow myself a moment of weakness...Was my timing right? Could he have had another day at home, another week? Could he have gone for one more turn around the park, had one last supper? We'll never know and to handle to reality of euthanasia I have learned to be comfortable with the ambiguity and magnitude of when to take a life. All I know for sure is at that irredeemable moment when I drive the plunger home, I will be there for the person trading the overpowering presence of love and companionship with their pet, for the cold, empty ache of loss...it fell to me to sever the bond and ensure that her best friend left her with as much dignity as I could muster. It isn't easy...for either side, as Dr. Trout goes on to note that according to one study: ...veterinarian suicide rate are nearly four times the national UK average (and) peer-reviewed scientific articles have found a significantly increased risk for suicide in Californian veterinarians and in a ten-year period in Western Australia, one in five veterinarians who died did so by taking their own life.
National Geographic in a piece title In Search of a Cure, found that due to a lack of doctors in Venezuela, many are turning to spiritual cures, something which I think we all begin wishing for at this point in an animal's or human's life. An unexpected accident, a monitor beeping dangerously low, a tired back adding to our own lack of sleep. Please, we say, let there be a cure, let the meds work or even better, let her return to normal assuage my guilt...should have walked her more or played with her more or spent more time outside with her, or a myriad of other reasons that will fly like darts to pop those balloons one by one, night after night. But not tonight. Our dog is still with us, having pulled through time and again, much as our other rescue dog (now 13) did about a year ago when her stomach flipped around (pay attention here, that happening is the second largest killer of dogs and you only have a 2 to 4 hour window when it happens, a condition appropriately called twisted stomach and first marked by bloating...my earlier post wrote about that experience). To some (or many), such fuss and time and effort for an animal might seem ridiculous, while to others (or many) such expenditures of monies and schedules might seem well worth the return. My wife and I are in the latter camp, doing what we can (and thankful that we have the freedom to make such decisions) while recognizing that it all boils down to one thing and that is our dog's and not our quality of life. When that diminishes, when that spark fades from a bright and hopeful light to a passing-of-time dullness, then it will be time. But until then, we walk her outside and bring her in when it gets too hot, we sleep nearby her and awaken at every odd movement, we contentedly read and change our schedules to get her through this period, and we do it all willingly. Caregivers to the end, from parents to animals...it takes it toll, but the returns we receive back are far too numerous to count.
*I don't usually promote books but this was quite enjoyable and from now until July 23, 2017, e-readers can get a copy of this book for $1.99 here...
We're far from putting our dog down, willing to look into the myriad of support wheelchairs (priced higher than human wheelchairs) and meds and veterinary visits. And even Dr, Trout recognizes this attachment in the pet owners he's seen and takes nothing away from that as they crunch budgets and seek answers and help, often at any cost, Here is the danger of doling out all that carefree, irresistible, unconditional love for our children and our pets. Chances are our children wil outlive us. We believe we will not have to bury them, praying that we will be spared the unbearable grief of their loss in our own lifetime. Not so our pets. We pour our heart and soul into the animals in our lives, insisting that they are our children, that we love them no less than if they shared our DNA, and we do this with a certainty that for all this joy, we are guaranteed to lose them, to bury them, and somehow, to face life without them once again...In our high-speed, anonymous, and entitled world of complicated and overplayed lives, true love has never been harder to find and believe in, let alone sustain. When the cure for insecurity and meaningful conversation is to slap a cell phone against your ear, hide within your iPod, or tap out a cryptic instant message, is it any wonder that we find comfort and solace in hairy, furry, and scaly companions? Far from the sleazy bar scene, blind dates, and Web sites dedicated to finding your soul mate, pets offer a relationship guaranteed free from lies, deception, and infidelity, where silence feels comfortable, where words come easily and unforced, where demands and a need for tolerance are nominal (unless that special someone tries to claim the couch for themself or insists on sharing a bout of flatulence). Imagine a marriage, with only minimal effort on your part, guaranteed not only to be successful but to endure. No prenuptial agreement. No worries about divorce. In our world of flawed, failed, doomed, and dangerous relationships, here is a chance to find true love. Here is a chance to find love without the risk.The price we pay for this unconditional love is monetarily high, nearing $60 billion as of last year according to the pet trade leader, APPA. And for many, that monetary limitation can either bring a sharp dose of reality to the forefront or stick to you like a guilt-ridden tattoo...or both. As my friend remarked, when growing up on a farm the medicine for a sick animal was either to have it fend for itself or to give it a compassionate (?) bullet. Commodity or child, necessary burden while needed or a friend for life? Often the lines become blurred as more years passed by. And for the veterinarian, it is often no easier. Here are some of the thoughts he mentioned when he has to put down an animal: I allow myself a moment of weakness...Was my timing right? Could he have had another day at home, another week? Could he have gone for one more turn around the park, had one last supper? We'll never know and to handle to reality of euthanasia I have learned to be comfortable with the ambiguity and magnitude of when to take a life. All I know for sure is at that irredeemable moment when I drive the plunger home, I will be there for the person trading the overpowering presence of love and companionship with their pet, for the cold, empty ache of loss...it fell to me to sever the bond and ensure that her best friend left her with as much dignity as I could muster. It isn't easy...for either side, as Dr. Trout goes on to note that according to one study: ...veterinarian suicide rate are nearly four times the national UK average (and) peer-reviewed scientific articles have found a significantly increased risk for suicide in Californian veterinarians and in a ten-year period in Western Australia, one in five veterinarians who died did so by taking their own life.
National Geographic in a piece title In Search of a Cure, found that due to a lack of doctors in Venezuela, many are turning to spiritual cures, something which I think we all begin wishing for at this point in an animal's or human's life. An unexpected accident, a monitor beeping dangerously low, a tired back adding to our own lack of sleep. Please, we say, let there be a cure, let the meds work or even better, let her return to normal assuage my guilt...should have walked her more or played with her more or spent more time outside with her, or a myriad of other reasons that will fly like darts to pop those balloons one by one, night after night. But not tonight. Our dog is still with us, having pulled through time and again, much as our other rescue dog (now 13) did about a year ago when her stomach flipped around (pay attention here, that happening is the second largest killer of dogs and you only have a 2 to 4 hour window when it happens, a condition appropriately called twisted stomach and first marked by bloating...my earlier post wrote about that experience). To some (or many), such fuss and time and effort for an animal might seem ridiculous, while to others (or many) such expenditures of monies and schedules might seem well worth the return. My wife and I are in the latter camp, doing what we can (and thankful that we have the freedom to make such decisions) while recognizing that it all boils down to one thing and that is our dog's and not our quality of life. When that diminishes, when that spark fades from a bright and hopeful light to a passing-of-time dullness, then it will be time. But until then, we walk her outside and bring her in when it gets too hot, we sleep nearby her and awaken at every odd movement, we contentedly read and change our schedules to get her through this period, and we do it all willingly. Caregivers to the end, from parents to animals...it takes it toll, but the returns we receive back are far too numerous to count.
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| Our spoiled and regal 11-year old pup |
*I don't usually promote books but this was quite enjoyable and from now until July 23, 2017, e-readers can get a copy of this book for $1.99 here...
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