Senior Citizens and Pets Share Golden Lives Together

                

              Many know I have a special affection for senior pets.  I love “golden oldies” because by nature they have greater health care needs.  As such, senior pet care is where veterinarians have an opportunity to excel and employ their best education and communication abilities.
               Perhaps the most essential trait for a veterinarian to possess is indeed exceptional communication skills.  A large part of our day after all, is spent talking to and teaching proper pet care to pet owners.    I enjoy this part of my job, especially when it comes to senior citizens, for whom I also have a special affection.   For me, it doesn’t get any better than a visit with a senior citizen who owns a senior pet.

                                I love that senior citizens appreciate and experience the benefits of pet ownership.  However, I have been troubled by two events that transpired more than once recently. 

                                Because I am growing older with my senior clients, I am also experiencing their passing.  I am saddened by their departure, for their loved ones, for myself, and for their pets that are missing them.  Many times there is a surviving significant other who readily steps in to continue the pet’s care and love.  However, it is sometimes obvious that the survivor was not as active in the pet’s care.

                                While this may seem at first like a sad scenario, it tends to turn out well as the significant other quickly learns the pet’s quirks, routines and needs.  A strong bond is readily born out of the common loss of a loved one.  And, grief seems to be more readily diminished by the distraction of caring for another’s beloved and needy pet.  Veterinarians can be instrumental in fostering this relationship by assisting the survivor with knowledge about the pet’s veterinary needs, habits and temperament.

                                The second event I have had recently was during visits with senior citizens who commented that their current pets would be their last. When each verbalized these sentiments, my heart sank, not only for the potential loss of my relationship with the pet’s owner, but for the absence of a pet in the aging owner’s life. 

                               I am an obvious observer of the role pets play in human lives, especially older pet owners.  I have the ongoing honor and privilege to witness the power of pets as they improve the health and well-being of their “pet parents.”  Pets make us exercise our mind, body and hearts.  They give us purpose, a reason to wake up, and a routine to carry out. Yet their most powerful role is in the completion of the human- animal bond, an indescribable phenomenon that I see and enjoy on a daily basis.

                                So when my senior clients lament that a pet will be their last, my soap box quickly appears and I sharpen my communication skills.  Growing older does not need to be the end of pet ownership.  On the contrary, it needs to be the beginning.   Senior citizens can and should reap the benefits of adopting "older" pets, most of which reside in shelters nearly four times longer than their younger counterparts. 

                                Older pets come with some important advantages.  They are already housetrained, past the puppy chewing stage, and are usually calmer with lower energy.  Older pet parents become fully engaged in their pet’s care, too, which results in mood elevation, lower blood pressure and weight loss through increased exercise.

                                Part two of my soapbox speech then addresses the senior citizen’s next concern for “who will care for my pet when something happens to me.”  I respond to this query by explaining that, like many veterinarians, I have seen this situation before, and things always have a way of working out. 

                               What tends to happen is friends and family members realize how important the pet is or was to their loved one and will step up to care for the pet themselves or place them with someone they know and trust.  In the absence of prior arrangements (which I highly encourage), numerous agencies and breed rescue groups will assist in expediently placing pets in good homes.  And, yes, sometimes veterinarians and their staff adopt their older clients’ pets, too!

                                Aging pet owners are among the very best pet caregivers.  They deserve the love and happiness that pets bring to them.  For me, adopting a pet when you are in your senior period is a no-brainer.  If you love pets, don’t let growing older be the death of the human-animal bond.  Instead, rejoice in it.  I promise you will never regret it.

This column, authored by Dr. Bonnie Jones, is in memory of Bill Henze, Evelyn Schmidt, Joan Frankhouser and Jan Steiner.

A Second Chance for Bandi

                                I still can’t believe I almost did it.  Her right paw was in my left hand, the syringe filled with pink solution in my right.  My assistant was holding off the vein, and the alcohol applied.  Up to that point, I had purposely avoided eye contact, but then felt she deserved a good look at the man who would kill her.  Damn!  Things began to get blurry.  I quickly capped the needle while I could, swallowed hard a couple of times, and squeaked out to Mr. Miller, “Can I have her?”

                                                                                   
                        That year had been a hard one for me, my wife, and our canine family.  The tragic loss of “Jake” in March was followed by the death of his father, “Jack,” to a brain tumor two months later.  The decision to save Bandi was made quickly, without regard to marital repercussions.  But none were coming.  My wife felt the emptiness in our life and home as much as I did.

                        When 1999 began, we were the proud owners of three Border Collies and that spoiled, little Corgi Bonnie always writes about.  The four of them had a somewhat annoying habit of racing through the house to the back door whenever they thought it was time to “potty outside,” and that behavior could be triggered by anything from turning off the TV to folding up a newspaper.  It’s funny the things you don’t think you’ll miss until they are gone.  Some would say they were “just dogs,” but to a childless couple, they were much more than that.  To lose half of them in such a short time was devastating.

                        Readers of this column may recall that euthanasias are not my favorite things to do, so you can imagine my dread when I saw Bandi’s appointment scheduled that early December morning.

                        I had known the Miller family for several years.  They were mostly large animal clients, and it had been some time since I had seen Bandi.  The old Border Collie was now overweight, with a terrific set of love handles, and stiff joints.  She also had a large, ulcerated growth on her side.

                        Mr. Miller said his family had talked and decided Bandi didn’t want to make it through another winter.  I remember chuckling to myself, “Did she really say that?” But knowing that this was a difficult decision for them to make, I did not share that thought.

                        Then I saw the spark in her eyes that told me she still had a lot of life left in her.  Fortunately, Mr. Miller seemed relieved by the request and responded with a resounding “Yes!”

                        I asked about her diet and if she was housebroken.  He said Bandi spent some time in their house, but actually preferred living outside, where she slept in the mulch.

                        When we got home that afternoon, the first thing Bandi did was head for the bushes and roll in the mulch.  I brushed her off as best I could, and took her inside to see her “new digs.”  We walked through the kitchen to the family room where she spotted Jack’s favorite, green lounge chair.  Without hesitation, she hopped on, curled up, and gave me a “this will do fine” look.  Just like that, Bandi “Miller” became Bandi “Jones,” and she never laid in the mulch again.

                        Blood- testing revealed that Bandi had heartworms and hypothyroidism. She handled the heartworm treatment well and sailed through her growth removal surgery. Her arthritis responded to anti-inflammatories and joint supplements, and she lost some weight on her new diet and thyroid medication. But the “love handles” remained forever.

                        Even though a Border Collie, sheep were of no interest to her, nor were ducks or Frisbees, for that matter.  She did enjoy going for walks, eager in spite of her stiff gait, and always carried her head and tail high.  Bandi never had a cross word for her new siblings, and was probably the happiest dog we’ve owned.  Giving her a second chance was one of the best things I have ever done.

                        As the autumn of her final year turned to winter, Bandi began to exhibit many of the same symptoms as Jack---dullness, some dementia, and she had her first seizure.  Whenever an older dog suddenly develops seizures, brain cancer is almost always the cause.  Bandi’s condition deteriorated rapidly.

                        On the night of December 9, 2004, after an especially bad seizure, her eyes finally said she didn’t want to make it through another winter.  Although we only had Bandi for five years, there were no regrets.  She filled a void in our hearts, and a chair in our home.  And she did both very well.

                        Thank you Miller family for letting us adopt Bandi.

Author:  Dr. John Jones
Image courtesy of Rosemary Ratcliff at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

‘Tis the Season to Give Thanks

                        As veterinarians, we tend to collect “special needs” pets that become members of our family.  Our household currently consists of three dogs and two cats.  While the dog acquisitions were purposeful adoptions of healthy puppies, the cats entered our lives because of their medical needs. 

                        “Stinky” is our orange tiger cat that has an underdeveloped coordination center in his brain.  He came to our office at six weeks of age with horrible, smelly diarrhea (thus the name “Stinky”) and the inability to walk.  One might look at his plight and consider it incompatible with a comfortable lifestyle…not my husband.  With a special affection for orange tabbies, he convinced the owner to donate the cat to us, treated his diarrhea, and gave him a home.

                        Nine years later, Stinky still can’t walk nor stand unassisted.  We carry him everywhere he goes, including to the litter pan and his feeding station. He does boast a few war wounds (broken teeth, broken ear cartilage) from his occasional efforts to move independently that result in “flops” on the floor.  Last year he developed foul diarrhea yet again.  After multiple, messy litter pan trips followed by several partial baths, we finally concluded that his diagnosis was Inflammatory Bowel Disease.  Stinky now eats a high fiber cat food and receives a low dose of steroids every other day to keep his stools firm.

                        “Ruthie,” our calico cat, entered our lives two years ago when one of our clients rescued her roadside.  When this woman entered our office with a pathetic, small, multi-colored, fluff ball, she was fortunate to encounter my husband.  His knee-jerk response was to blurt out that we would be glad to take what appeared to be a three month old kitten off her hands.

                         In actuality, Ruthie was pushing six months old, dwarfed by a vascular anomaly that shunts blood inappropriately around or through her liver.  Ruthie must eat a special prescription diet and receives a laxative to facilitate rapid removal of food by-products that might intoxicate her. While we aspire to prevent diarrhea for Stinky, we intentionally create sloppy stools for Ruthie!

                        Many know that my Pembroke Welsh Corgi, “Bunny,” is the love of my life and that she is “perfect” in every way…well, except for snacking on the occasional cat “tootsie roll.”  Bunny’s streak of “perfection” was interrupted several years ago by eyelid paralysis, a manifestation of her inadequate thyroid function.  She has been taking thyroid replacement medication for years and has enjoyed very good health since.

                        The other loves of our lives are our Border Collies that continuously remind us why they are deemed the most intelligent dog breed.  “Robbie” and “Jimmy” are half-siblings that are three years apart in age.  Jimmy showed persistent lameness in his left shoulder as a young puppy and was diagnosed with shoulder dysplasia.  He enjoys his glucosamine chondroitin daily “treat” and has been working comfortably at his “job” tending our sheep flock for almost three years.

                        Robbie…well, she’s another story.  She is, by far, the best working Border Collie that we have ever owned.  Sadly, she also has the worst chronic illness that we have had to treat for our own pets.  Robbie has epilepsy, an unfortunate, genetic defect of her breed.  She has also been among the most difficult to control epileptic patients that I have treated over the last 25 years.  Her seizures did not begin until she was three years old.  Now six years of age, she continues to have seizures monthly, often experiencing “clusters” over a few days each time they occur.

                        One pattern we discovered is that Robbie would often have seizures after a period of separation from us.  As a result, arranging “get-a-ways,” short or long, became problematic, not to mention the worry and guilt of burdening our pet caregivers with her “special needs.”  Robbie also tends to seize during periods of deep sleep which often makes for a short night for all of us. We continue to struggle with adjusting medication doses and trying new drug combinations to control her epilepsy. 

                        As I contemplate our kitchen counter cluttered with multiple bottles of pet medications, daily pill boxes (for the pets, not us), pill splitters, and syringes, I am thankful that I am a veterinarian.  But, I am also thankful that I have pets.  If you choose to own pets, you must commit to ALL of their health care needs.  The payback is ten-fold as they give much more than they receive. 

                        Happy holidays from this thankful pet owner and veterinarian!

 

Author:  Dr. Bonnie Jones
Image courtesy of franky242 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A Tale of Grass Tetany

                   

                    

                        Everyone should have a hero.  Mine is James Herriot of the All Creatures Great and Small book and television series.  If you’ve ever thought of being a veterinarian, you probably read these books or watched the shows; it is practically mandatory.  I gained a great deal of knowledge from them.  Now I don’t want to say I learned more about being a veterinarian from James than I learned in college, but it's probably pretty close, and I strive to be like him- the hero in almost every story.  I’m afraid, though, I may have turned out more like Tristan, James’ partner’s not-so-bright, trouble-making, “goof off,” younger brother.  Most of my co-workers would probably agree with that.

                        Life is full of stories.  Some end happily; some do not.  That is part of the adventure. Veterinarians’ lives are like that.  My other columns have been more of the fact-filled, “do this, do that” format.  This time I wanted to try something different.  Here is my attempt at an educational, and true, “James Herriot” story.

                        It was a perfect October day.  The air was clear and crisp, and the trees were in their autumn glory.  My patient was a “down” Angus cow at the far end of the pasture just in front of a woods.  From afar, the cow appeared to be dead, but as my truck bounded across the grass toward her, I could see that she was breathing.   The closer I got, the more agitated she became; she was now paddling her legs in wild convulsions.  When I got out of the truck and approached her, she threw her head at me in an aggressive manner.

                        What I have just described are the classic signs and presentation of a cow suffering from hypomagnesemia or “grass tetany.”  This is a metabolic condition that arises from low blood magnesium levels.  “Grass tetany” is commonly seen in cows, and sometimes in sheep, that are grazing lush grass pastures, usually in the spring or the fall of the year.  The rapid growth of the grass along with cool weather conditions results in decreased uptake of magnesium into the plants, making the plants deficient in this nutrient.

                        My assistant for this call was an extremely thin and elderly man who lived in an old house at one end of the pasture.  The owner of the farm had told me on a previous visit that this old man was deaf and could not speak.  Nevertheless, he proved to be a very capable helper.  I placed a nose lead, a tong-like device, in the cow’s nose to keep her head still, and my assistant held the rope to which it was attached.  I then administered a bottle of a calcium/magnesium solution intravenously, being careful not to give it too rapidly as this could kill the cow.  My friend did a good job of keeping just the right amount of tension on the rope, thus preventing the cow from thrashing about.  I would ask him to do things, and he seemed to understand, but I’m sorry to say that I couldn’t understand any of the sounds he would make in response.

                        Following the intravenous bottle, I gave the cow a second bottle of the same solution under the skin on the side of her ribcage.  With our treatment completed, my assistant gently removed the lead from the nose, then neatly wound the rope around the tongs and handed them to me.  I reached out to take them, pinching his fingers between the metal pieces in the process.  It was at this time that our communication problem ceased.  “Ow…you got my finger!” was spoken as clearly as I had ever heard anyone speak.  I apologized profusely and thanked him very much for his help.

                        The occurrence of grass tetany can be prevented by increasing the consumption of magnesium during the critical pasture seasons.  The recommendation is two ounces per head per day for cattle and one-third ounce per head per day for sheep, either incorporated into the grain mix or in molasses-containing blocks.

                        A few minutes after our treatment, the cow gingerly arose and headed into the woods with her calf.  After making certain my new friend’s finger wasn’t badly damaged, I thanked him again and was on my way.

Author:  Dr. John Jones
Image courtesy of Mister GC at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Should You be Breeding Your Pet?

                         If your pet is pregnant, either as a result of an intentional or accidental breeding, please educate yourself to prepare for a successful pregnancy and delivery, and healthy neonates.

                        Let me first state that I am not a proponent of pet breeding.  I continue to be saddened by the number of homeless pets overflowing at rescue facilities and animal shelters.  Your veterinarian can assist you in selecting a “pre-existing,” appropriate pet for your lifestyle and family, as well as provide you with breed rescue and animal shelter information.  We need more responsible pet owners, not more pet breeders.

                        But, if you feel strongly about breeding your pet or your pet is already pregnant, I urge you to gather as much information as possible right now about pet pregnancy, normal and abnormal deliveries (including caesarian sections), neonatal care, weaning, and vaccination and placement of offspring. Start with your veterinarian and schedule an examination for your pregnant pet.  You should plan to discuss nutrition and health requirements for the mother-to-be, delivery, when to call for help, and proper neonatal care. 

                        You may want to do some research at the library or talk with a reputable pet breeder.  Purebred breeders can be located by contacting breed association groups on the internet. Be aware that raising a litter is a lot of work, especially when the offspring are getting larger and more active after two weeks of age.

                        Most importantly, when you make the decision to raise a litter, realize that you become solely responsible for insuring that every member of that litter has a good home for its entire life.  That means if any of the offspring cannot remain in the home that you have placed it in, you should be prepared to accept that pet back, even after months or years have passed. For this reason, I urge you to make the decision to breed or not to breed your pet only after long and careful consideration.

                        Please be advised that pampered, small breed dogs often want to be “the puppy” themselves rather than take care of puppies.  These dogs commonly require C-sections and will not be very good mothers. You should also know that smaller dog breeds have smaller litters.  When there are fewer puppies in the uterus, the fetuses grow to a larger size thus increasing the likelihood of a life-threatening C-section. I always ask owners of toy and small breed dogs if they are willing to sacrifice the mother’s life for a few puppies, as loss of the mother during surgery is a real possibility.

                        Furthermore, small dog breeds have an increased incidence of eclampsia, or low blood calcium, upon delivery and nursing. Eclampsia can cause inadequate uterine contractions, resulting in the need for a C-section, or a very agitated mother that may tremble, and even seizure until her calcium deficit is corrected.

                         Be informed that large dog breeds can average 10 to 15 pups in a litter.  Are you prepared to care for that many puppies, especially after four weeks of age, when their mother has decided that their needle-sharp baby teeth are too painful to permit nursing?  This is when many dog breeders realize that puppy-rearing is “work” and no longer “fun,” resulting in premature placement of newborns in homes ill-prepared for puppies with poor socialization.

                        Cat owners hoping to have kittens soon discover that their female cat is annoying to be around when she is “in heat” due to her constant wailing and rolling around on the floor.  Let’s not forget the urine marking that goes on when your female cat is in heat, and the neighborhood “toms” who adorn your door step with the pungent smell of their “proposals.”

                        The end result of this offensive behavior is the female cat gets sent outdoors when she is in heat, often for the first time. Pregnancy quickly occurs, and the bothersome behavior ceases.  However, young, inexperienced, pregnant cats frequently are poor mothers and have high C-section rates as well.

                        Please enter into pet breeding responsibly and armed with knowledge. If you don’t know what a “whelping box” or a “queen” is…if you don’t know that a bitch’s body temperature will drop within 24 hours of delivery…if you don’t know the difference between stage I and stage II delivery…if you don’t know what a normal interval between delivery of pups or kittens is…if you don’t know how a normal post-partum discharge looks…if you don’t know how to tie off an umbilical cord…I challenge you to get educated and ask yourself “should I be breeding my pet?”

 

Author:  Dr. Bonnie Jones
Photo courtesy of Mandy Price Halsey

Laughter Is the Best Veterinary Medicine

                        Our veterinary assistant, Meghann, raises Golden Retrievers.  When she began working for us four years ago, she had two dogs, Dixie and Daisy.  Dixie was her show dog and her breeding future, and had even been featured with Meghann in this very newspaper.  Daisy was her old dog, and as dog lovers know all too well, became really old way too quickly, and passed away.

                        The day after Daisy died, I knew Meghann was having a tough time, so I sneaked out to the drug store to buy her a sympathy card.  After a quick scan of the selection, I couldn’t believe my luck. There, before my eyes, was the perfect card that read:  “Sorry for the loss of your Golden Retriever.”  This was too good to be true.  And it was.  Closer examination of the card, and by “closer” I mean farther away and with a good squint, revealed that it was “Grandmother,” not “Golden Retriever.”

                        Still, this card with the heartfelt message inside, was the best of the lot.  So I did the only thing I could.  I scratched out “Grandmother” and wrote “Golden Retriever” overtop.

                        Comedy is not unlike veterinary medicine, particularly surgery.  To achieve good results with either often involves some risk.  Knowledge of the audience, or in our profession, a proper history of the client and patient, is essential.  With Meghann, I knew she had a good sense of humor.  But, when one is treading on a grandmother and a Golden Retriever with the same card, the ice is pretty thin.

                        I couldn’t see Meghann’s face when she opened the card, but I thought I detected a gasp and small shudder when she got to the “Golden Retriever” part.  That was followed by some trembling that increased to mild convulsions.  She was laughing.  The operation was a success.  The only repercussion of that event is that ever since, she seems to think it’s okay to call me a “dork.”

                        Two months ago, a lady who wasn’t a client called our office inquiring if I would be willing to come to her house to euthanize her old dog.  She wasn’t ready to do this yet; she was just pre-planning, as her own veterinarian couldn’t, or wouldn’t, perform this service for her.  Although home euthanasias are not high on my list of favorite things to do, she didn’t live far from our office, so I agreed.

                        Weeks went by, though, and I never heard from her, until four Thursdays ago.  I noticed an appointment scheduled late in the day for a new client regarding a geriatric Boxer and the need for a second opinion.

                        When I entered the exam room the lady was already crying, and based on the pile of used tissues, crying a lot.  She had been under a fair amount of pressure from friends and family members to put her dog to sleep.

                        Her main complaint was that the dog had a hard time getting up and was stiff when initially ambulating.  I always cringe when I hear that as a reason to euthanize----I have days like that myself.

                        My initial impression of the patient, a grey-faced, somewhat overweight, senior citizen, was positive.  He seemed to be walking around our exam room just fine.  Like many Boxers of his age (although quite frankly, there aren’t that many), he did have numerous skin lumps and bumps, and some areas of hair loss which could be indicative of hypothyroidism, Cushing’s disease, or seasonal alopecia common to his breed.  Overall, though, he looked like he had a lot of life left.

                        As I was completing the exam, between bouts of tears, the lady made it very clear that she didn’t want any more tests or medications; she only wanted a second opinion.  This is where my friend, Doug, a comedy genius in his own right, says she threw me an underhand pitch.  I, of course, just had to take a swing.

                        “You want a second opinion?” I said as I carefully laid my stethoscope around my neck.  She nodded. 

                        With my best “Marcus Welby” face, I looked her straight in the eye.  “I think your dog looks pretty good…but, you’re too emotional.”

                        That was followed by pin drop silence for a very uncomfortable eight or nine seconds.  As the “uh-oh’s” and “whoopses” began to build inside me, suddenly she burst into laughter, much to my relief.  Better yet, she cried no more for the rest of the visit.

                        We both knew that the bad time was coming, but it wasn’t here yet, and it certainly wasn’t going to be that day.

                        Laughter is never going to cure a disease, or make the old young again. But, sometimes, in the right situation, it can be a darn good band-aid.

Author:  Dr. John Jones
Image courtesy of savit keawtavee at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The Ears Have It

                   At the end of a long week I returned home one evening, slid into bed exhausted, knowing my cat, “Precious,” would soon join me.  Precious is one of our “good sam” cats that was very easy to adopt due to her affectionate personality.  Like all good cats, Precious owns me, and our bedroom is her domain. Her favorite time of day is bedtime and on that evening, it was my favorite time of day as well.  I began to massage her head and chest, as usual, before we both drifted off to sleep.  As I approached her ear area, I noticed her wince a bit and then I felt it…Precious was developing an ear (aural) hematoma.

                        Aural hematomas can be likened to a large “blood blister” that consumes part of or the entire ear flap, also called the “pinna.”  To understand why aural hematomas occur, you must first understand the anatomy of the pinna, which consists of two layers of skin and cartilage, and numerous, small blood vessels.  If you have ever had a pet with even a minor laceration on its pinna, you know how extensive the blood supply and associated bleeding can be. With one good head shake, a pet with a pinnal wound can “paint” a room bright red.

                        Because of this abundant blood supply, any blow to the ear or violent head shake can lead to a rupture of the many ear blood vessels. Bleeding within the pinna causes the two layers of skin and cartilage to separate, and the space in between them fills with blood, resulting in an aural hematoma.

                        The majority of aural hematomas occur in floppy-eared dog breeds that by design are more prone to ear infections.  For these breeds, even an innocent, good ear shake after rising or stretching can cause an aural hematoma.  Veterinarians will closely examine pet ears with hematomas through an otoscope to rule out ear infection as the underlying source for ear shaking.

                        Ear infections are a common reason for visits to veterinary offices.  Signs of pet ear infections include odor, redness, build-up, pain on contact, head shaking, and ear scratching.  When I educate new pet owners, I remind them to touch puppy and kitten ears and examine them daily so the pet is comfortable with ear handling, and the pet owner will be aware of changes in the ear health if they arise. When ear infections are recognized and treated expediently, the pet doesn’t suffer needlessly AND aural hematoma formation will be less likely.

                        Ear infections can also be prevented by routine ear care which includes daily inspection, ear plucking, and ear cleaning with a drying ear cleanser as prescribed by your veterinarian.  Be sure to discuss with your veterinary professional the proper method to pluck and clean your pet’s ears to avoid unnecessary injury. 

                        I find most pet owners are not aggressive enough when it comes to ear cleaning.  I tell my clients “if you can see it, you must go after it” when I am referring to the removal of pet ear debris. The external ear canal has an “L” shape, requiring a person to make a turn within the canal in order to injure the pet’s eardrum.  Therefore, when cleaning your pet’s ears, if you put any cleaning implement in deeper than you can see, you probably are in too far.

                        If your pet is diagnosed with an ear infection or “otitis,” your veterinarian may take ear swabs for microscopic examination and culture in order to determine the best treatment for your pet.  Some pets will require oral as well as topical medications to treat their infection.  Temporary usage of an oral anti-inflammatory drug can be very helpful in providing pain control and accelerating the pet’s recovery.

                        When your pet has an aural hematoma, your veterinarian will first identify and treat the underlying cause, then she will make recommendations for treatment of the hematoma itself.  Minor hematomas can be treated with “benign neglect” which means you treat the underlying cause and wait for the hematoma to re-absorb on its own. Some hematomas are as large as the pinna and will require surgery for drainage and to prevent it from recurring.

                        My little Precious did require surgery for her aural hematoma as her swelling consumed her entire pinna and she was constantly batting at her ear.  While she did very well with her surgery and the hematoma did not return, she did develop a common sequela to pinnal injury, the dreaded “cauliflower ear.”  Cartilage doesn’t like to be traumatized, especially in cats, so it responds by shrinking and crumpling.  Fortunately for dogs, aural hematomas are infrequent in breeds with erect ears, and the cauliflower effect is often minimal for those with floppy ears.

                        Precious’ aural hematoma was most likely the result of her own clumsiness, probably when she was jumping on our bed.  (She had a spinal injury when she was young and her coordination skills are not always the best.) Nevertheless, she takes great pride in sporting her new cauliflower ear as she reminds the other four-legged family members in our household that she is indeed the queen.

Author:  Dr. Bonnie Jones