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
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