Just letting you know that my blog has moved to www.doctorvj.com so I’ll see you there. 

So by now it’s probably reasonably clear that I love LOLcats. And LOLdogs.  Crazy maybe, closet nerd probably I’ve been a bit slow on the updating for the last couple of weeks, having to actually work and what not. I have more stories for later but thought I’d get a few pet peeves out of the way first.

Things That Will Make Your Vet Happy #2: Demonstrate an ability to follow simple instructions

I have come to realise that lots of people have difficulty with instructions. I’m willing to consider the possibility that I make things too complex, but I think it’s much more likely that some people are just kind of stupid.

Example: “I need you hold your dog’s collar to stop him from moving” This is probably one of the most difficult things I ask of people. I’ve tried rephrasing it several different ways and this one seems to have the best success (about 50%) now that it’s no longer a question but a direct statement. I think it’s pretty simple. You – the owner, hold the collar – attached to the dog’s neck, and this – by default – should mean that you’re now attached to the dog’s head and it can’t walk off. It’s apparently quite difficult. Often owners let go of the dog and hold the loop at the end of the lead. Or they hold the lead close to the collar, but then let it slip through  their fingers as the dog walks under the examination table and ties itself in knots.  Generally I’ve asked the owners to hold the dog still so I can do something like palpate the dog’s abdomen or take its temperature, both of which require that the dog stays in my general vicinity, or at least within arm’s reach.

Things That Will Make Your Vet Happy #3: Pay attention… This applies to life in general I suppose, but I’m constantly amazed (although by now I shouldn’t even be surprise) by how little people can know about what goes on around them. I have a list of general questions that I ask while collecting a history, like “How has Fluffy been lately?” or  “Have you had any concerns about Fluffy?”. Owner can go on for ages, about this time they thought it was weird that Fluffy barked, or licked their butt, or how they don’t like the postman.

Now for the real stumpers:
a) What does Fluffy eat? –> about 50% manage “kibble”, “crunchies” or “nibbles”, or “the mince in a pouch / can”. A smaller percentage can identify something important about the food like “It’s got that vet on the front”,  ”It says it’s natural”, “It’s in a silver bag” or “It’s for small dogs”. It’s a very small minority that can actually tell me the brand of food that their pet eats. I find it strange and vaguely amusing. I eat a strange mixture of puffed rice, flaky things that might be oats with a smattering of small seeds and fruit for breakfast. I don’t know what it’s called, but it comes from the aisle in the supermarket with other things that people eat for breakfast. *GASP* OMGWTFBBQ – it’s muesli, that’s it! But I’m easily distracted by shiny things so this time I just picked the most sparkly bag….

b) Has Fluffy had any vomiting or diarrhoea? –> Most common response to this is…… “Why!?! What’s wrong!!?!!!”. Nothing you frootloop, it’s just a question. Just like how I asked you whether they were coughing or sneezing, eating and drinking, is it the rhyming? – because I can stop that.

c) Is Fluffy up to date with heartworm prevention  / flea treatments / intestinal worming? –> “I have no idea! I think my mother / brother / sister / boogie man / fairy god mother does that…” or “Is that yearly one / the thing she had when she was a puppy (2 years ago) / in her vaccine?” Er, no. Is remembering to do something monthly really that difficult? I suppose, given that people find it so hard to work out why it’s possible to get pregnant while using contraception…

Hoomans. Bah. Srsly.

Things that will make your vet happy #1: Forewarned, is forearmed.

Or at the very least, it means that we might manage to remained armed, legged and generally “limbed”. There is nothing more irritating (well, at least not for today) than being told that DevilDog had a tendency to bite AFTER he’s already tried to detach a finger. It generally comes along with a look of only mild suprise from the owner (you know, DevilDog has actually tried to bite someone EVERY time he visits the vet, but they were secretly hoping that this time might be different…) and a watery excuse about how “Oh, he doesn’t like it when you do that!”  Doesn’t lke it when I….look at him?

Generally then, the child substitute spends the next several minutes gnashing its teeth at you, all the while ensconced in the (frequently) massive bosom of a highly anxious, middle aged woman who is vehemently opposed to any suggestion of:
a) retrieving the dog from her bosom
b) muzzling the darling creature, assuming that a) can be successfully carried out
c) removing the darling creature from the room, assuming that a) and b) can be successfully carried out.

Also, I never fail to be amazed by the number of owners who feel that the best thing to do after their animal (usually weighing less than 5kg) has tried to savage both you and them, is to cup their darling’s head in their hands and smooch it all over the top of the head while I’m trying to inject it. Obviously getting up close and personal is a fantastic idea, go right ahead. So is laughing at the teeth holes in your hands and saying that he’s just telling Mummy that he doesn’t like it and it happens all the time.

Dogs (and cats) can  be aggressive for lots of reasons (especially fear and anxiety) and we deal with, and manage these situations on a daily basis. But for the sake of your limbs and ours, if you’ve got a pet that likes to impersonate the Devil – please tell us before hand

There are few questions and concerns from clients that never fail to amuse me. Let me just point out that it’s very hard to keep a straight face sometimes, but I try – wanting to appear to be taking concerns seriously and what not. These are real, and frequent, I kid you not.

Situation 1:
Cue a very concerned, bordering on hysterical (female) client on the phone. OMGWTF, my dog has got TWO LUMPS on his belly. I swear they weren’t there before, they’re huge, do you think he’s got cancer? I thought he might have been bitten so I tried massaging them and they wont go away. I’m going to rush him straight down…”

*DangerMouse tries to snigger silently”

Oh yes? Uhuh, where are they? Oh, they’re the same size? Either side of midline? Uhuh? And what was he doing right before you noticed the lumps? Oh I see, he was humping a pillow….Let’s see, um, he’s er, likely to just have been enjoying himself a little too much, got a bit excited and all.

*Cue disgusted shriek*
*Cue dumbfounded questions about “How” and “Why”*
*Refrain from asking middle aged women with teenage children whether it was all about immaculate conception*.

Situation 2:

“Hello, This X from The Veterinary Hospital”.

*cue irate male*
“OMGWTFBBQ, you bastards! I just paid you X million dollars to desex my male dog and you’ve screwed it up. He’s still #*$&ing got #*$&ing nuts, I don’t know how you get away with it.

*cue most delicate voice*
“Sir, I removed your dog’s testicles myself. May I humbly suggest that he’s been amusing himself, if you take another look, I would guess that the testicle do not normally live in the area that you have noticed the swelling”.

“Hahah, Huh. *chortle*  That’s my man!”.

Situation 3:

“You MUST help me! I think my (female, 6mth old) cat has broken its tail or hurt it’s back!”

“Uhuh, tell me what is happening….”

“She’s crouching down and trying to stretch her back and then she cries out in pain, then tries to rub it better on my legs. Please Doctor, tell me what’s wrong with my cat!!!!!”

*Resists the urge to point and laugh and tell the client that their cat “wants some, real bad”.*

We all sat around in the airport some more, until 11:01pm. There is now no plane, no crew and all remaining flights have been cancelled, including mine. The general manager of the airline announced that everyone may now piss off from the airport please, if you live in the “general area” they would reimburse you for a taxi ride home (but not back again) or if you were from outside the area they would reimburse you for a hotel stay, but like, you have to find your own room at this time of night by yourself. Yay! The queue for the taxi is several hundred people long, so after collecting my bag I kept myself amused by sitting (well, standing) on hold to the airline customer care line for an eternity (and getting nowhere mind you). I fought the urge to scream when the guy behind me (who obviously was a priveleged frequent flyer judging by his conversation with other similarly attired pot bellied middled aged men with boat shoes and pink sweaters arranged over their shoulders) had a 2 minute phone call to re-book his flight. I finally got home at about 12:30am, and then tried several more times to speak to someone about rebooking a flight. It wasn’t becoming urgent or anything – I just need to be 800km away by 9am that morning. No rush, everyone just take their time.

Finally got to speak to a real person at 1:30am, and got myself a seat on a 6am flight. That means getting up at 4am, awesome. Arrive at airport at 5am, discover that the my flight (the first flight of the morning) is already delayed by 15 min. Running on 2.5 hours sleep, I’m not really in a fit state to have a tanty but I hope that my face adequately displays “unimpressed”. Not sure it does. Try to do time calculations in my head and fail miserably. I think it is going to be ok, but it could also be all bad. Arrive interstate at 7:50am, collect bag by 8am, *insert feeling of mild panic – I’m still without a car and 50km from destination*. Pick up car eventually (“Oh, we don’t have any small cars right now….would you like a Lancer?…. no wait, you can have a Prius”) and hope my finger tapping and watch checking wasn’t too obvious. Finally get keys, then discover that I can’t leave until I have had an instruction session with a dreamy (as in off with the fairies, not McDreamy-dreamy) Irishman. Am mildly amused by the lack of key and giant power button. Finally leave the airport at 8:35am, pray for my GPS to HTFU and make friends with some satellites so I can get going (NFI where I am going, lol). Make it to my hotel at 9:10am to pick up keys, then on to the workshop location by 9:15am. Not such a bad effort.

Workshop itself was awesome, it was great to finally meet the people that have been doing my course. Also great to discuss cases with the tutor (a world reknowned specialist in her field). Also quite a lot of fun getting progressively drunk with her as the night went on – hey, I was keen on ‘participating’ . I found it quite reassuring to know that “fruit-loop” is considered an appropriate medical term, as is “nut-job”.

Came home yesterday, thankfully with no hiccups. Also got to experience the fun that is the plantinum business lounge at the airport. Noice. Very noice. Kudos to the specialist to sharing the love – we met again at the airport

So I sort of finished work on time. I left work an hour early to go on the petshop run, aiming to spend 1 hr there, then get home on time, change and dash to the airport. Luckily for me the petshop staff are not brightest and I went overtime, then got stuck in the closing time exodus from the car park. Got home late. Trip to the airport was ok. Then I try to check in and the self check-in allocates me an exit row seat, but no boarding pass because I must speak to the service desk first. Line up for the service desk in specified line (ticket says “You must attend Service Desk 13 or 14 for assistance). Security manager informs me that I must move as I am not entitled to be in this line, sigh and joint the end of the line of about 50 people. While surveying the slow moving surroundings, discover that my flight is already delayed by 30 mins due to some airport controlling kerfuffle where planes are not allowed to land at the designated times and so everyone is delayed. W00t. Flight wont leave til 8:30pm, land 10pm in strange city to hire a car, then drive to hotel and get there before 11pm. Cutting it fine DangerMouse!

So taking advantage of the tiny laptop and phone with interwebs, I do some work and send important emails. Then the PA announces that due to electrical activity within 5 nautical miles, the airport is currently closed to all air traffic and all planes are grounded until further notice. Yipeeee! Use said interwebs to find details of hotel, sweetly explain to reception staff that its, you know, like, gonna be late – they’re going to leave the key out. So now, I sit here doing the geeky equivalent of twiddling my thumbs – typing a blog in the airport waiting lounge on my laptop while people eye me up like I might be important. Oh, but I am

I have previously posted this on another forum, but this was a ‘typical day’ (so one where everything could go wrong).

I was working my way through the surgery list, which consistent mainly of animals owned by welfare agencies that were being desexed before going to their new owners. On the one hand, it keeps you busy. On the other hand, there’s always suprises to be had. I did my first spey without a hitch, the dog had had puppies about 8 weeks ago, so her uterus practically leapt out saying “take me” (yes, reproductive organs talk). Finished the surgery uneventfully.

Get up to the second spey. All looks normal, young dog, appears to have had a season at some point. Incision through the abdomen is uneventful. Spend 5 minutes poking around the abdomen (I usually locate the uterus blind with my finger, rather than a spey hook), can’t find a uterus. Try the other side of the abdomen. Try the spey hook. Can find something like a ligament in the right spot for an ovary, but its way to tight and attached to something TINY and pink and tubular and I think it’s a ureter so I tuck it back where it came from. Try around the bladder. Nope.

Stamp my feet in frustration and make my incision bigger.  Invite the other vet to find the uterus.  She can’t locate it through normal means either. Resort to big incision and exploratory. Search every square inch of abdoment and find some things that vaguely resemble ligatures, but no reproductive tract. Decide that she probably has been desexed before, but there’s no proof, lol. As they say, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Given the number of dogs that we see through welfare, this is the first time out of hundreds we’ve come across one that has been desexed before (either that or it’s a freak).

All the rest of the desexings do actually manage to have fully functioning  and easily locatable reproductive organs.

Then, in afternoon consults, I saw “the” policeman (insert *squueeeeeeeeeeee*). I should explain. About 2 weeks ago, a guy appeared quietly in our waiting room, holding his dogs mouth. Looking inconspicous enough, when I called in my next consultation the owner of that dog suggested that I see to the gentleman in the corner first. So I called him through to the consult.

He calmly told me that his dog was bleeding from the mouth, it had a fight with another dog over dinner. Open it’s mouth and hell yes, it was bleeding. We had an arterial spurt on the wall that would make Dexter proud, there’s blood everywhere and it’s pissing out a teeny tiny little hole in the dogs tongue. The next hour was quite dramatic…. we had it on IV fluids and anaesthetised within about 5 mins.

One nurse went green and had to sit in a corner. The owner is doing an excellent job of passing swabs and syringes and things. He tells us he’s a policeman…and that the dog is a very recently retired drug detection dog and it’s worth $$$$$$$$$,  so if we can save her he’d be really grateful. Dog recovered fine and is really quite adorable.

The nice policeman came into pick her up the next day in all his overalled, booted and gunned glory and (I think mostly because he was enjoying the adoration of an almost entirely female staff) gave us a drug detection demo in the waiting room. *squueeeeeeee* He’s kind of cute and I developed something of a girlie crush (I should point out that I have a long term boyfriend and this was a very ‘rockstar’ kind of crush). So he came in yesterday so I check out my handiwork and check out his other dog. Having a very hard time keep a straight face, lol. Spent most of the time outside the consult room giggling. Yes, I have moment of extreme maturity.

I then did a nail clip on a lovely staffie.

Saw a few more consults, including an 8 week old budgie with a broken knee (sure you can’t technically break a knee, but there’s something crunchy between his tibia and femur). Nurse runs in in the middle of a consult and say they need me out the back NOW.

There had been a car accident a short distance up the road. A dog inside the car had been injured and was not breathing – one of our vets and a nurse had gone to collect it. It was the same dog whose nails I just clipped. Tubed it, on oxygen, started CPR and fluids, adrenaline. Coming up to 5 mins and nothing we contacted the owner for permission to start internal cardiac massage.  It’s not every day we see the inside of a chest, and it’s not everytime that CPR will manage to restart a heart, but this time it did.
The very sad news is that we suspect the dog had suffered severe neck trauma so over the next 45 minutes it didn’t start breathing spontaneously even though it’s heart was beating. The owner decided to let her go, so there was another set of wings in the park in the sky today.

For those who don’t know what to expect – it’s about life, generally. I’m also a veterinarian, so the good, bag and ugly will feature too. Despite how it sounds, I actually love my job but let’s face it, you’ve got to keep things real sometimes.