tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89502381834219154842024-03-05T01:02:40.029-08:00Dr W's Tails from the TrenchesCurrent pet veterinary medical issues and home care tips for dogs and cats. Actual veterinarian house call with dog/cat outpatient case studies demonstrating the necessity for the services.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-4397806445395835062013-08-31T00:22:00.001-07:002013-08-31T00:22:58.962-07:00Are You Listening to your Pet Part 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCE7vf9rhJnbUOcxkn7pQFH5BJxXjcSv9FKFqOcAxaN3qU2zkaIyOH2PNXJixtIkyWZeygBMtfuVcCEgWy1eWVR0QGVIARs8qXYJRI11XkVIJrQ-IUJ_YuDnPyTbT0SBCwnyMN2c51b78/s1600/petandowner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCE7vf9rhJnbUOcxkn7pQFH5BJxXjcSv9FKFqOcAxaN3qU2zkaIyOH2PNXJixtIkyWZeygBMtfuVcCEgWy1eWVR0QGVIARs8qXYJRI11XkVIJrQ-IUJ_YuDnPyTbT0SBCwnyMN2c51b78/s320/petandowner.jpg" width="274" /></a>You receive a phone consult from a worried pet owner about their pet who has symptoms of a chronic disease. You assess that the current condition is not an emergency but rather one that needs further scrutiny of previous veterinary care and the current pet in question. <br />
You convince the owner of said pet that as housecall exam would help to shed light on the current situation. The owner may ask a myriad of questions armed with internet hearsay, conjecture and rumor rather than fact. The owner seems to really want to know YOUR opinion. But alas never takes your advice. This person is well educated. This person is well-versed in veterinary medicine. This person KNOWS their animal. This person desires "holistic, natural, toxin-free treatments" that fit in with their natural philosophy.<br />
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The owner is worried about the side effects, the unnatural nature of the medication. The owner is learned and astute and WILL NOT take your advice. The owner is a paradox wrapped in a riddle deep fried in conundrum. The owner knows too much, reads too much and has actually BECOME an authority on the subject of veterinary medicine to the detriment of the patient.<br />
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This person wants to hear your advice. They process and modify and rationalize major changes on radiographs. They want to see the bloodwork results. They want to be the second opinion. They want to have a voice regarding the medical treatment. They are what we call: Askholes. They ask and ask and ask and do not EVER take your advice. THEY know what's best for their pet.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uZlDXVo1G2E-hWwiGD3apz2zT5Kf8mIM0ONWejt9vzWictyX3TLQqRocgvM7Bja_hX03AdsO2X3pHeCxGhoHYtG44o4lG8XxFyh5Zy2Gky1ubajnq9lugDaN3buWMD3jzSdmepxGzi4/s1600/handinpaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uZlDXVo1G2E-hWwiGD3apz2zT5Kf8mIM0ONWejt9vzWictyX3TLQqRocgvM7Bja_hX03AdsO2X3pHeCxGhoHYtG44o4lG8XxFyh5Zy2Gky1ubajnq9lugDaN3buWMD3jzSdmepxGzi4/s200/handinpaw.jpg" width="200" /></a>You are routinely questioned by owners in regards to a holistic and natural approach non-toxic foods the fear of medication and its side-effects pesticides and the toxicity of flea control, hearsay, urban myth and the strong opinion of telephonic animal communicators. Oooooh. This is a good one. You have quietly scoffed at the thought of animal communicators guiding your clients into a decision rather than utilizing your professional assessment. You have fought the feeling that these "charlatans" are lurking about preying on the sentiment of hopeful, agonizing pet owners in deep distress over the situation with their beloved pet. It seems to you that these scams are similar to those selling "proven" products which are guaranteed to cure the typically fatal disease now afflicting their pet. You ponder over the millions of dollars spent on snake oil and psychics and discover that all these modalities really are are simply a form of therapy. Therapy designed to help the struggling human cope with the loss of their animal.<br />
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If it helps them, that's all you care about.<br />
<br />Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-21344538747115894072013-02-18T10:21:00.000-08:002013-02-18T10:21:10.900-08:00Your Pet and Your Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh091DhHodNR5-eqBE_cO_o97kN7Z3B116V-oX0YYEzdQT6vpllYp6rTZ_kjr0jtM6y5ZT23A8-oJyygOwZABVmGVbHFIDy1L5KFgEYe1ulMh9eo1pB05DpNGkr9yYv_p3MjEMTCbBfIug/s1600/IMG_0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh091DhHodNR5-eqBE_cO_o97kN7Z3B116V-oX0YYEzdQT6vpllYp6rTZ_kjr0jtM6y5ZT23A8-oJyygOwZABVmGVbHFIDy1L5KFgEYe1ulMh9eo1pB05DpNGkr9yYv_p3MjEMTCbBfIug/s200/IMG_0258.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
You have arrived at your destination says Siri in that pleasing yet authoritative tone where another friend's pet in trouble. Your friends give you keys to their place allowing you go in and treat their pet while they work. What are friends for? A vet friend is a great friend because he loves his friends animals like they were his own. Friends compensate friends by knowing who owes who a favor or dinner or whatever. It doesn't really matter. Good friends have each other's back. You are no different. You are the best friend. The therapist. The guidance counselor helping your friends through all pet trials and tribulations giving the honest solution knowing there are no punches pulled when it comes down to brass tacks. They trust you, friend. With trust comes a lot of responsibility. To do the right thing. The correct thing.<br />
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Your friends rally around you when your pet is sick. The true friends do. They console and backstop you. They are there for you. Every good friend comes running to help. All the friends on a block in Huntington Park came running. They all wanted to help Diego (not his real name). It was a bath gone wrong. One friend tried dish soap. Another poured canola oil. All they made was a soapy oil dog salad right there in the tub. The poor chihuahua was screaming and writhing unable to get his foot from the drain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOo_Jplwwimn9mW9HZg_Jfw6Z7mhLtPW0l5GCueV8Krg-oemU4NtHd3Zjl5xi2-kOO900KLOE3w3ChbufOozg3Z0DLpgNe8hCkd3gHRRAvEaeY0ejvrxCaoFkcM6_sikrjDLWVqGypk3U/s1600/IMG_0325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOo_Jplwwimn9mW9HZg_Jfw6Z7mhLtPW0l5GCueV8Krg-oemU4NtHd3Zjl5xi2-kOO900KLOE3w3ChbufOozg3Z0DLpgNe8hCkd3gHRRAvEaeY0ejvrxCaoFkcM6_sikrjDLWVqGypk3U/s200/IMG_0325.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-JEINLyXoxCiT3LpD6Ypa_u4M8nrwFUXfcPeIdXLEKTttIIN_LrhMe-hGZ5dF8grpq-rJw2yjNK8_g617AN1_-sh-XcJPbYh1RQAridXrOudcvSHAXUuCfWGrPo5DzKxLcaK6OIhCuc/s1600/IMG_0326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-JEINLyXoxCiT3LpD6Ypa_u4M8nrwFUXfcPeIdXLEKTttIIN_LrhMe-hGZ5dF8grpq-rJw2yjNK8_g617AN1_-sh-XcJPbYh1RQAridXrOudcvSHAXUuCfWGrPo5DzKxLcaK6OIhCuc/s200/IMG_0326.jpg" width="200" /></a> </div>
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One friend called Human 911 and the firemen came running.
The brave folks in blue brought their tools but all four of them were no match
for a flailing, screaming little dog. You are summoned fresh off another
housecall a mere hop skip and jump down the 110 fwy and arrive to find a
cluttered one-room apartment with friends and firemen huddled around the poor
dog. The owner is so glad to see you as you ask the fire folks to step
back. You heavily sedate the trapped creature and in minutes Diego is out
of pain and fear. You are able to manipulate him but are unable to manually
remove the dog's middle toes from the drain. You employ the use of a chisel and
hammer and are able to safely cut the brass cross that has entrapped his toes freeing
him from the drain.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRHc0uDRMIpThG_JX8cR_IkJfUN1_ecF2rmnBXG7w-iaRsgawQE1Uxtpwudlj8thA-L-1oTSwWE6PqoJt9hUaZqZOV3O7qADXih62wg36gWeNLUTpe-fAnPNCxZ2ZjEd4AWNnYgoh_SI/s1600/IMG_0327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRHc0uDRMIpThG_JX8cR_IkJfUN1_ecF2rmnBXG7w-iaRsgawQE1Uxtpwudlj8thA-L-1oTSwWE6PqoJt9hUaZqZOV3O7qADXih62wg36gWeNLUTpe-fAnPNCxZ2ZjEd4AWNnYgoh_SI/s320/IMG_0327.jpg" width="320" /></a>Fortunately there was minimal injury to the dog's toes from the entrapment. You reverse Diego's sedation and recovery is uneventful. You bid your farewell and thank the firemen and friends for their support. </div>
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You doze off in attempts to finish this blog entry around 1:30AM this lovely Saturday evening (Sunday morning) hoping to join your family in slumber and that's when the Service calls. There is a sad woman on the phone who explains that her poor boyfriend's beagle hasn't eaten for 3 days and is in distress. She explains he has been suffering from a heart ailment and thinks the meds are no longer working or he's simply refusing them and that the time has come. She says that he is having a hard time making the decision. You agree to come help the dog out of misery on the other side of LA County that morning and arrive in good time to be greeted at the vehicle by the girlfriend's mom. "I am the dog's grandmother," she proclaims to you. You are asked if you will indeed check the dog out before proceeding and you assure her you will as she begs off as to not come in with you. You observe a bustling crowd of folks inside the fully lit modern home with a full parking area about it. The Service calls again and asks if you are near the housecall and you advise you are outside their door.</div>
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You are greeted by a lovely young girl who beckons you within. There are three young ladies and the dog's grandmother in attendance. The dog's owner, Jake (not his real name), greets you and is clearly slurring his words inebriated and you surmise is owed to the fact he cannot face his decision unaltered. The beagle, Yuri (not his real name either) is trotting about the kitchen as everyone observes him lap up water and sniff his food. The women all exclaim he's eating now. See? The love for the dog is effluent. Jake's attempt to guzzle liquor from the fridge are thwarted by the girls as they take the bottle from him. You inquire as to why you were called and Jake admits the dog has been sick for awhile and is not eating three days straight and he is sick of "water boarding" the dog's medicines everyday 'cause he hates it and is refusing now and he needs to go. One of the young ladies presents you with Yuri's 7 vials of pills and you are instantly reminded of your recently deceased father who had heart disease and his own arsenal of meds keeping him alive along with his dialysis treatment but Yuri is Jake's best buddy. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteGLlC7ijw1Owoyfcoe3-pulEe7IdcTToSmb2cJThNiAKP59_wWpFozNdI_NUTXsJ3pa9ELxSMvMc3BCesyrcNzn5btuwMfmW70gUIhLCRhYi3UOOsiDIL6AwhTeMKPe0_LeKo1QIokI/s1600/beagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteGLlC7ijw1Owoyfcoe3-pulEe7IdcTToSmb2cJThNiAKP59_wWpFozNdI_NUTXsJ3pa9ELxSMvMc3BCesyrcNzn5btuwMfmW70gUIhLCRhYi3UOOsiDIL6AwhTeMKPe0_LeKo1QIokI/s1600/beagle.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yuri-like beagle</td></tr>
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You ask to examine Yuri and Jake carries him to his bed where you recognize the truth that Yuri is suffering. His respirations are 70 breaths a minute when 40 is normal at rest. He has that panicked look in his eyes. The look of low oxygen. His gum color is not great. Jake exclaims wavering that he wants to do it. You agree. But there is dissent among the friends. They maintain that Jake should wait. He is in no condition to make a harsh decision. You explain to the women that Yuri's next day will be worse. They are not listening. Jake pleads with these women and a younger brother of Jake's pipes up and says "he is suffering and Jake wants to do it". But they don't want to hear it. You are in the middle of a great debate and defiance. You wish you never came out that morning. You are asked if people change their mind and you reply rarely does it happen. You advise the ladies with all due respect that the owner has a right to help his own dog out of misery. You even offer a trip to the emergency overnight clinic but are rebuffed since Yuri doesn't like going the the doctor anymore. He's been to 4 different doctors and really hates it. Jake, unable to stand his ground even with the backing from the attending veterinarian, is defeated by his friends who believe they are doing the right thing. They take the consent form from his hand and force him to sign the credit card slip for the emergency house visit alone. </div>
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You apologize profusely to poor Jake and want to mention he should probably not have gotten toasted and that it ruined his credibility but you keep it as a thought. The anger against you from the others, however, is palpable your only crime suggesting that Jake was right and Yuri should not suffer without considering hospitalization. Sadly you leave the home and poor Yuri to suffer another day.</div>
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In the end Yuri's "friends" bring him to the local emergency clinic the following evening, apparently too sick to care about doctors, and passes peacefully. You chalk the whole experience up to the unpredictability of human nature and your variability of getting the point across to all the friends...</div>
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Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-29197588817429575992013-01-16T00:15:00.001-08:002013-01-16T09:39:33.356-08:00Picture WindowYou walk into a room. The foyer. High ceilings. Marble for miles. Buddhas. For some reason there's a lot of Buddhas. Bathed in exquisite light. Buddhas in different poses along the long wide marbled corridor. Or maybe there's signed movie posters covering the high walls. Signed baseball bats in collector plexiglas cases. Ty Cobb signed his baseball card and it's on the wall. Babe Ruth signed a baseball in a case. Or maybe Wayne Gretzy's signed jersey and Muhammad Ali's gloves up there in the rafters.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzA6oowzxwM8Mycoo_Pu6WLWuzLkcKptw5jQAkgZCku-_cpdsSVyMkp5i51LPRQk6PKVnkbtbIA9-EmOCR2hvZ6qVqjcMT35KwzE5KWZmORXirN-piGObCYmDTTGSDA5Pr8ER7tU7HqM/s1600/forestview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzA6oowzxwM8Mycoo_Pu6WLWuzLkcKptw5jQAkgZCku-_cpdsSVyMkp5i51LPRQk6PKVnkbtbIA9-EmOCR2hvZ6qVqjcMT35KwzE5KWZmORXirN-piGObCYmDTTGSDA5Pr8ER7tU7HqM/s320/forestview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
You turn your head and there's a view. A view from a large picture window of the crashing waves on rocks below. Or the clear picture view of the canyon. Maybe the canyon is lit at night with a starscape of not-too-distant designer low-voltage home lighting emanating from the architectural marvels built into the carefully carved canyon walls each with a magazine spread looming out from that picture view. Or maybe the View is an infinity pool tabling the downtown skyscrapers that rise from that watery mirror steaming and ready for the pet owner to take a dip after a hard long day stacking cheddar.<br />
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You are led to the far room where the beloved family pet lays in trouble. The family seeking your guidance putting their faith in you making the call. Does our beloved dog have more time? If so, doctor, how much time. Can we cure this? Will my cat ever be the same, doctor? Can you stop the pain. We don't want the animal to suffer pain. You have become the guidance counselor. The family therapist. Sometimes you feel as if you are suicide prevention. You give the pep talk. The smooth over. Take the position that the beloved pet would want her owner to have a happy life. To live on and enjoy the memory. But you are asked to fix things. To give us more time, doctor. But you have been through this thousands of times. You have recognized the inevitability of demise. A demise all too quick with our domestic pets who we encourage a foothold or clawhold into our frail hearts.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyaYOF-tfVGDueWPLJufB34QyMFS0ftr9pUdfdO8IeKu677cCKf5dhyphenhyphenbJBiR8E8VTIX2j4-n4Af-ain7Ku2N3UCEkVVK72RQuuUKRVxdutG1wuPinW7_GQlGdeJqatd3IMI8EGpj8dRo/s1600/cattree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyaYOF-tfVGDueWPLJufB34QyMFS0ftr9pUdfdO8IeKu677cCKf5dhyphenhyphenbJBiR8E8VTIX2j4-n4Af-ain7Ku2N3UCEkVVK72RQuuUKRVxdutG1wuPinW7_GQlGdeJqatd3IMI8EGpj8dRo/s200/cattree.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Yet you are trained to extend life and alleviate suffering. Pet lives are compressed. A day: a month. A month: a year. A year: five to ten years. So try you must and try you do. You have your way of extending life and with reasonable quality. You give options and preach realism. You give hope, investigate and provide answers to questions. You remain vigilant to the changes in all parties concerned. You remain at the ready. You also must absorb the anger and the sadness in the room. You observe portraits, photos and memorabilia. You see the bed where they lay, the carpet tree they climb, the feeding area and the bathroom. The feed closet, the cat room, the dog cage, the dog yard, the run, the nice conditions and the absurd. The inhumane yet the acceptable conditions. The rudimentary and the insanely extravagant accommodations. The pet lives better than you, my friend. And that's the way it's gonna be. Or maybe the pet has a ridiculous existence that you later anonymously report to animal control.<br />
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You have seen a wide array of rooms. Some rooms with too many cats. Too many bathroom areas. Too few bathroom areas. Too much stuff. And stuff and stuff and stuff. Why do you have so much crap? Why are you keeping those 2000 VHS tapes of every movie since Casablanca? Do they still play? Do you even have a VCR? You have the 70 inch HD 1080p 3D super flatscreen over the fireplace. I'm sure you have every Netflix, VUDU, HULU, and all that stuff on demand. Yet you remain humbled. Humbled by the ability to enter these glorious rooms with nary a thought except for the well-being of that pet. The one you came to make things better for. The hero of the moment to those pet lovers you serve. And you know it by the look in their eye. And the look from the trusting eyes of the ailing beast.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-69718422750741546282012-08-18T13:42:00.000-07:002012-08-18T13:42:58.317-07:00The Dog is KingYou have been courted by many reality show people. But...<br />
You cannot film this.<br />
You cannot re-enact this<br />
You can only write it down.<br />
One can never see this in a clinical setting.<br />
One can only experience this live in the home of these poor pet owners.<br />
Actually the pet owns the people.<br />
King (not his real name) has owned this family the day he arrived.<br />
King is a powerful yet friendly 9-yr old neutered male Rottweiler.<br />
The family loves Rottweilers. They have always had one back in their Eastern European village in the old days. They never fed dog food. The dogs ate leftovers. They never had their teeth cleaned.<br />
They never saw a vet.<br />
When their time was up they received a bullet. Deftly and humanely.<br />
<br />
The family of three were owned part and parcel by King.<br />
His things were HIS. No one could get near them.<br />
No one could get in his way or block the path to his things. If so he would give them a warning.<br />
The 20 something son lives in fear of King. He reminds you to "be careful, doctor" over and over and apologizes for the dog, himself, everything.<br />
The father is more pragmatic but afraid of the dog as is the mother.<br />
She says he runs their lives.<br />
In front of you King takes a bottle cap to chew on. They immediately "scold" King to drop the cap and reward him with a treat.<br />
You state the obvious that they had just rewarded the dog for BAD behavior.<br />
Mom says she knows he tells us what to do and now he is in pain.<br />
<br />
You had arrived to meet them to put King down. He has been declining for 2 months and now it is time.<br />
<br />
You envision an old fat Rottie unable to rise pitifully lying in the backyard at the end of his chronic condition and it is simply no longer a "dog's life" as you put it. You have seen this over and over in homes across Greater LA when the trusty yard dog has lost his ability to serve as burglar alarm and security guard and his time has come. Most of these old Rotties are very protective of their space. Some are very sweet and almost acquiesce to the purpose of your presence. They are glad to see you the Angel of Mercy.<br />
<br />
King was not one of these dogs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_-s-hoBgxCobeG13XiBJ3SDNDIGbt5z3dlRkqEvoQ3I2I7p93cj2xTZoYZ6R_PPmOaf98CpIKce39TuUnYW50vvD8n-8JVr_xsShCC4uP95jHF7-ssiesp5Jh3b9UADnP1wbXf5dyW4/s1600/IMG_3316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_-s-hoBgxCobeG13XiBJ3SDNDIGbt5z3dlRkqEvoQ3I2I7p93cj2xTZoYZ6R_PPmOaf98CpIKce39TuUnYW50vvD8n-8JVr_xsShCC4uP95jHF7-ssiesp5Jh3b9UADnP1wbXf5dyW4/s320/IMG_3316.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">three pills to the wind</td></tr>
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<br />
King lived in his house not the backyard. The humans were allowed to stay. He was dominating the center of the room. Not hiding in the bushes or in a closet. Front and center.<br />
<br />
King had not gotten up in 24 hours. But as soon as he saw you<br />
He squeals in pain and leaps up good as new yet lame in right rear. Nothing wrong here. I am still the King of this house. He sniffs you. He is friendly and pettable. He seems quite nice but you know Rotts like him. He licks/tastes you.<br />
<br />
"Be careful, doctor" was the family mantra...You are always careful except the time you were cocky and violated your own safety rules and got your hand chomped and held for what seemed an eternity by a white shepherd in pain...THIS time you are very careful and take your time even though you have an emergency transport waiting at the nearby hospital here in this sweltering Valley.<br />
<br />
The son is afraid to put on King's collar nervously muttering "he doesn't like it...he's not liking it"<br />
The son loves this dog, well, like a servant loves his master.<br />
After ten shaky tries he puts the collar on and now we are in business you think as the son is able to latch the leash and off we go outside for a walk and King is watching you and knows what you want to do. The family wants you to examine King and see if his leg is fixable. Or should he be put down? You disagree totally with the latter and are willing to sedate King and examine him.<br />
<br />
Easily said.<br />
<br />
Your traditional technique of passing the leash through a door, a post and securing the head with one hand and poking the dog with anesthetic in the rear founders because the son has not securely applied said collar and slip out he does. Further attempts to leash the dog are thwarted by King pulling the leash from your hands by jumping on it and then putting it is his mouth.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Runs down the hall to go under</td></tr>
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King limps back into the house. Be careful, doctor. King is offered a treat [laced with 75mg Acepromazine] and he eats it and cleverly leaves some of the pills. Additional attempts finally cause the dog to lie down in front of the door.<br />
<br />
Now you are about to go Steve Erwin on this Rottie. You devise a pole with anesthetic syringe on the end and reach over for the poke...screech, bark jump up, be careful doctor, bent needle, protect yourself behind a cushion, owners cowering. The son is on the brink. The mom pleads to you. You have them leave the room to reduce room anxiety.<br />
<br />
Finally two stabs later King finally runs off into the son's room (ie the room King allows the son to sleep in) and goes under the anesthetic. You are unable to find an answer on physical exam. Xrays are needed.<br />
<br />
King is carried out to your vehicle by you and the dad. You take King to the Emergency Specialty Group and suggest to the staff that they go straight into Xray. Perhaps he can be treated with medication and walk fine again.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for safe exam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
King may live on to run his family<br />
<br />
No one should have to live in fear of their pet<br />
<br />
It amazes you that people are willing to live with a pet that intimidates his family to get what he wants.<br />
<br />
King has no fear. An Alpha's Alpha.<br />
<br />
The son had been bitten in the face by King several years ago hence his constant fear and worship(?) He was teasing him spouts the father. The son probably deserved it he says.<br />
<br />
A dangerous pet in the home is like having a loaded gun on the kitchen table...in an earthquake.<br />
<br />
You wonder if any behaviorist could set this dog and his family straight. But you fear that the situation is too ingrained. The behaviors too difficult to change. The animal resistant to subordinating. These humans are too weak for this dog. They are merely serfs providing what the King wants.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-16286016419696807002012-08-04T18:18:00.001-07:002012-08-05T00:49:12.794-07:00What is Your Dog Telling YouHow in tune are you with your dog? Dogs react to the humans around usually as the leader of the pack. They want to lick you feet, clean your body, get INSIDE your body they love you and want to be fully accepted by you. <br />
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When it comes to illness in our dog, how does the DOG want to appear to YOU pack leader? Strong and ready to do your bidding, of course. The DOG wants to hide any unworthiness, flaws, weakness or vulnerability. The poor dog conceals his disease until it is TOO LATE to save him or her. <br />
<br />
How is your dog demonstrating disease? Many times it is very slow, subtle and gradual. "One day" the dog appears TOO skinny. How could and why didn't we find this horrible cancer much sooner?!? You kick yourself in the ass over and over. You know the dog collapsed but got better and i let it go. <br />
<br />
REGULAR CHECKUPS ARE CHEAPER AND SAVE LIVES<br />
<br />
Im sorry. Was i yelling??<br />
<br />
Attention large dog owners: your dog may be carrying a time bomb under the ribcage. Its called hemangiosarcoma. I dont know why but it is becoming more and more common as the silent killer of large breed dogs. I see three of these a week on average. We vets are sick of this. We would much rather your Golden lives a long life playing frisbee on the beach so we can give yearly exams and health checks and family pictures for years to come<br />
<br />
LOW COST REGULAR CANCER SCREENING:<br />
<br />
Quick ultrasound screen of the spleen and liver will SAVE YOUR DOG'S LIFE. <br />
<br />
We will come to your home 3 times a year for a great price we cannot publish. We will see your dog for a 15 minute cancer screen of the spleen and liver 3 times a year after age 8 for $195 please search Hemangiosarcoma in dogs<br />
<br />
Call 310-477-4140 and mention 911 Blog to receive discounted regular live-saving imaging<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVV_t86NvYJoCLqPxAzz3P8FkZjC_QCj1G5gpbg7g03-8s_zqb1dE0Ezl_kFlolt42jA5JBEHXP-pAWLBfUKusRVJKkIxUYtQzuXe4A9x8N9DnnxgpAS1I_jQgczYB7YFe0NZ3JITngxA/s640/blogger-image--551432668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVV_t86NvYJoCLqPxAzz3P8FkZjC_QCj1G5gpbg7g03-8s_zqb1dE0Ezl_kFlolt42jA5JBEHXP-pAWLBfUKusRVJKkIxUYtQzuXe4A9x8N9DnnxgpAS1I_jQgczYB7YFe0NZ3JITngxA/s400/blogger-image--551432668.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-89130094127193687802012-03-09T01:24:00.003-08:002012-03-28T00:11:18.720-07:00Why you love your job<style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Times;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --></style>You often consider a different profession or moving to Montana and build a recording studio better than the one you have now but you stop and reconsider because the people you meet in LA are so unbelievably interesting you cannot fathom another profession. You drop off meds to your good friend and client famous horror novelist for his shepherd dying of liver cancer. Somehow the dog hangs on. You wonder if you should pursue oncological advice, but the owner is against putting the dog through “misery". <p class="MsoNormal">All of this happened after having left the insane mountaintop home designed by a famous architect whose owner has a white cat enjoying the sun too many years. Yes poor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7pPHM1PXbuQdHEwiwkUQ_FAabERHKHIsIkp5O2Dhyphenhyphennz3vFdFdW_MUqxNYCoFQBCqj5ZTjSl2_URkKH41_jCEcwp_vunM1lDJfPF4YHXEmLWl8jvbp930Dojbt8L3N3Wji4Mt1fk1A0Y/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7pPHM1PXbuQdHEwiwkUQ_FAabERHKHIsIkp5O2Dhyphenhyphennz3vFdFdW_MUqxNYCoFQBCqj5ZTjSl2_URkKH41_jCEcwp_vunM1lDJfPF4YHXEmLWl8jvbp930Dojbt8L3N3Wji4Mt1fk1A0Y/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724841856535171522" border="0" /></a> Don Giovanni (not his real name) a 14 year old skinny white cat had developed skin cancer on his ears and a large tumor on his head. You realize these are totally removable and the cat will have ears of a pitbull but will live many more good years on top O' Mulholland Drive for many years to come.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You have a rough hockey game where the new team with all it's potential falls flat in the first game going behind 5-0 in the FIRST PERIOD yet you rally back and at least lose 8-3 respectable? You have now been named captain by lack of anyone else stepping up so you have coaching ability and agree to take the reins cause it's fun. You drive back from the rink at midnight in your branded vehicle when an emergency strikes since you are on call 24/7.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A Sunday call comes and you are dispatched by the Service to help a down dog in the Valley. You note that the dog is owned by physicians and you instantly recall these individuals have a propensity for letting their pets suffer longer than the average pet owner. You surmise that this attitude/propensity is due to the fact that MD's are very familiar with HUMANS lingering as long as possible and suffering is relative, meaning the relatives suffer more than the patient.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You are pleasantly surprised by the lack of extreme suffering of this lab, Bill (not his real name), who is simply lying in the garage on a blanket alert and anxious, unable to stand. You explain to Bill in your head that you are here as the Angel of Mercy to help him out of this world. You explain to the physician owner that Bill's spirit is vibrant but his body has given out. Free to use human medical analogies, you refer to the equivalent of human suffering: the patient is bed-ridden. Pressure sores are barely manageable. The patient has a bed pan or is helped out of bed to eliminate. Will you do this for your dog?, you inquire. No, this is not a life for a dog. Not for ourselves. We are fortunate as vets to alleviate the misery with humane euthanasia. You recall 3 discussions with clients all in the same day and the consensus is that humans are forced to suffer to the end while our pets are legally allowed to pass before the inevitable horrible, painful ending.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You help lower Bill into his grave at the ranch home of the client who has buried many pets on the property in the past before. You gloss over the city ordinance barring this practice and the ritual continues. You actually get into the grave to lower Bill yourself within...</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile Don Giovanni is recovering.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You return to writing this blog a couple of weeks later. You had already forgotten about “Bill” but are happy to read what had happened. Is your memory going? Or are you suppressing these memories in order to remain sane and professional. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes, back to “Don Giovanni” her real name is a different opera. And she is doing very well. It’s just the sutures are digging in and you need to remove them even though the are absorbable,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>oh, and the fact you want to drive up the impossible driveway carved in stone to the plateau overlooking Greater LA the Hollywood Sign and the Ocean(?) just one more time despite needing a new transmission on the 106,000 mile-driven Highlander. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You realize that this blog is already too long and no one is reading it anyway unless they let you know by a comment a sign or something posted on Facebook. You need some sleep but can’t stop thinking about the critters in your care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The wolf-like dog with pyometra that kept you up til 4AM has shifted your sleep schedule and reminds you of Senior year overnights and the zombie-like day to follow.</p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-1436111784168582002011-11-13T22:03:00.000-08:002011-11-14T11:18:19.911-08:00October 31, 2011 <p class="MsoNormal">You find yourself descending a steep unstable slope helping the owner carry his dearly departed dog to his grave. Lucas, (not his real name) the Shepard mix who, with your merciful help, had succumb to metastatic adrenal carcinoma,. The perfect Halloween scenario finds you carrying the deceased with his hearing-impared muscle man owner who is misdirected down the slope to the palm tree 20 metres below. You recommend an existing pathway below and carry the slinged dog in that direction under the unforgiving fall afternoon sun and down near the palm tree when you realize that the site was another location back up the hill that leads to scaling said dusty slope upward to the final resting place. Five pounds of dirt in your shoes later the pet is not adequately covered by earth shoveled by the man and you find yourself directing him with difficulty (since you only know pig-sign language) to rebury the dog and that erosion will soon unearth his dear Lucas and this is basically why it is not recommended to bury your pet except in a pet cemetery or have cremation and return of cremains but in the interest of cost-saving combined with the need for a traditional pet burial on one’s property the practice will continue much to the delight of roving wildlife and the chagrin of concerned citizens.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Eleven Eleven Eleven</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Finds you busy all day back and forth through traffic cross town back again where you were last night up the treacherous hills of Franklin Heights to help a poor little dog with cancer and alleviate some pain. Today is the day to end the suffering and it is hard to let go of a friend who loved you unconditionally without argument or pretense with loving eyes always even when you scold her and yet you want a few more days or hours to hold your beloved in your arms never to let go but let go you must for the sake of your woeful friend and your own anguish. That is what you have come to understand all these years helping pets live as long as possible comfortably and to help them out of this world as comfortably as possible. You’ve experienced human suffering of a family member and the inhumanity of sustained “life”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>People should have access to the humanity you provide for pets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But all this is in the back of your head as you drive through city traffic trying not to aggravate your neck and shoulder spasm by gripping the wheel too hard and trying to navigate the GPS as you yack with dispatch. You speak to the little dog in the back telling her she is the lucky one. She lived the life of luxury up on the hill overlooking the city with your beloved mom and human brother.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The day continues with the theme of re-visitation as you revisit the ivy-covered home of the novelist a nice lady with a propensity for daytime imbibing and multiple feline friends. She was told by her previous vet that her cool Orange cat Henry (pseudonym) is old and must be put down. You beg to differ that Henry simply has a snotty-nosed cold and is a bit under weight. The novelist is so thrilled that she found you and that you can actually provide medical care for her cats and not simply want to put them away when they are old and you explain the saying you once learned that “Age is not a disease” you can’t cure aging only disease and this reverberates with you personally since lately some of your contemporaries have fallen making you cherish each day and stay up as late as you can and live as many hours as possible. Henry is tested and treated and apparently unfazed as he looks at you sitting in his bedroom as if to say “what the hell are you doing?” You tell him telepathically that you will be back to take him to have his teeth done since two are rotten and a possible cause for his sinus infection but Henry pays this no mind and strolls away. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You head back from Toluca as the rain falls from an anemic storm whose bark seems much worse than its bite and has threatened the Southland like the ever-present threat of terror. And the GPS goes out in the Highlander with perfect timing as you kinda sorta know your way around Silverlake hills and need to take the non-freeway route back to the clinic to see the shaky Chihuahua cross but aren’t really sure if left or right on Sunset in the correct choice and traffic is crawling up your butt and you must make a decision or be scorned and ridiculed by the public and it’s not good PR to screw up in a branded vehicle; a decidedly counter-marketing move. You make the correct choice and eventually return to the clinic.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Shaky Suzie Shiver (not her real name) has been shaking with jerks and tremors for 36 hours now and it’s either the longest “seizure” on record or she got into a toxin or has a liver shunt or is hypoglycemic or…she jumps at noises like a Strychnine poisoning but has not fever and no history of exposure. You rack your brain and temporarily calm the tremors with some valium and run some tests only to find dehydration but could she have gotten into your chocolate, flea spray, household product, your marijuana, anything on the street but the owners come back uniformly: not that they know of. You place your bet on epilepsy and wait it out and look for a pattern. After the valium wears off you expect a phone call about now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Nothing yet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or yet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The hope for dinner with the family is quickly squashed by a call from the Service that a dog got her collar stuck on her leg (WTF?) and there’s blood everywhere and can you hurry at 6PM on a Friday night back to Fairfax and Beverly? No problem you think as you ask for an hour and you suggest the throw a heavy blanket on the dog to prevent further self-trauma. What a strange circumstance you think how does a dog get its collar stuck on her leg?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You marvel on recent things that entrap a dog like the marrow bone around the lower jaw<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1pBtpHPXNcSAubGoxTo_DPtP1yrQmSIApnJHtLej6f9amWifqfWi76rStNcak75j-m4AnXjBeuJaQVXQ9_64DJrFK7SgRZ1AIoVhkjsvQhbED_Fl7XZ9EkZbSHavcNx6qtFnMuGwn7Y/s1600/image.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1pBtpHPXNcSAubGoxTo_DPtP1yrQmSIApnJHtLej6f9amWifqfWi76rStNcak75j-m4AnXjBeuJaQVXQ9_64DJrFK7SgRZ1AIoVhkjsvQhbED_Fl7XZ9EkZbSHavcNx6qtFnMuGwn7Y/s200/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674729653809442242" border="0" /></a> or the dog that got his leg stuck in a table. No this was a totally new entrapment. You arrive after an arduous traffic-filled drive to find a bloody scene and a dog on the ground contorted with her rear leg pulled forward and the neck downward. Somehow the choke collar was stuck but you could not tell since Betty (not her real name) the mini-Aussie was in pain when she moved cause when she was calm and still she was oK so nobody makes any quick moves. The owner and her two friends assisting stood idly by trying to help by petting Betty unsuccessful attempts to muzzle her were aborted in favor of slipping her an injectable anesthetic. The poor owner in her attempts to free her pet from bondage had sustained several nasty bites from her frightened little girl that are sure to hurt for several weeks as with you are too well acquainted and as it turns out the blood was all human blood. You could not find a cut on little Betty but what you did find was the clasp of the leash clasped over Betty’s Achilles tendon and still attached to her collar. The choke chain was so tight you could not release it off of her neck but forced to cut the chain with the handy dandy pruning shear you used to cut the marrow bone off the Shepherd’s mandible which works like a charm once again now allowing you to unclasp the dog’s Achilles<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjay_-Xz51vMdk09gHHrYKWljr92XgXqUZzkBzGSnibECNwWC7tFVc98wtVFJge1MvdjzMjAVSViXX4IorBIs6mxYm5WnekR9ghkEM5giS1gushEuA3BCsjHcaRraAYs_NUgaUBjmP5HSg/s1600/IMG_2655.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjay_-Xz51vMdk09gHHrYKWljr92XgXqUZzkBzGSnibECNwWC7tFVc98wtVFJge1MvdjzMjAVSViXX4IorBIs6mxYm5WnekR9ghkEM5giS1gushEuA3BCsjHcaRraAYs_NUgaUBjmP5HSg/s200/IMG_2655.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674731047810168306" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKyYMLYf8k-dn4Dmqe0PEDuxtKgSjUWm2kYHbCWxAfiiDk0KYt1vBhgedpUTIJHA1ko91jnAVgborIw8gMN7LWYix-OWxJ73FXmYy1LHliotY_Lur8xoaeWMbN_sUQX9re3zx4TtjzqA/s1600/IMG_2656.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKyYMLYf8k-dn4Dmqe0PEDuxtKgSjUWm2kYHbCWxAfiiDk0KYt1vBhgedpUTIJHA1ko91jnAVgborIw8gMN7LWYix-OWxJ73FXmYy1LHliotY_Lur8xoaeWMbN_sUQX9re3zx4TtjzqA/s200/IMG_2656.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674731052386341202" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Yes you are a hero to these owners and that they had no other alternative than you to save Betty tonight Friday and you bid them adieu. You pull off with a growling stomach to cross the city this time by freeway less crowded to find your cooled tin-foiled dinner on the table and the family all done for the night. But you had to write it down before you forget and the stories blend together in a blurry continuum of never-ending rescue missions.</p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-83991377258097834472011-09-26T19:19:00.000-07:002011-09-26T21:01:44.596-07:00ATTACK WEEKYou build a summary of a strange week of animal on animal attacks:<br /><br />1. Akita on Doxie<br />2. Raccoon on Cat<br />3. Akita on Sharpei mix<br />4. Cat on Cat<br />5. Coyote on Terrier<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sausage Baron’s Dog Takes Bite of Wiener Dog</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jl9WPExFhJHHVBSDXWOxGKNhyphenhyphenyn5Ji7oFvVMTtFsJTBTkxWNlahHCI-hGu5j_-Xo6QXVpzg4hhmkPBt4t8lP0juT_yyeglOdnZW3Az_9TY7g84zhYy1PG3U8kZxxfok6bwK4YqozrUE/s1600/hot_dog.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jl9WPExFhJHHVBSDXWOxGKNhyphenhyphenyn5Ji7oFvVMTtFsJTBTkxWNlahHCI-hGu5j_-Xo6QXVpzg4hhmkPBt4t8lP0juT_yyeglOdnZW3Az_9TY7g84zhYy1PG3U8kZxxfok6bwK4YqozrUE/s200/hot_dog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656883212534803698" border="0" /></a>You respond to a call on Venice Boardwalk: a small dog has been attacked by his roommate dog. The poor woman moved in to a vacant room and has been also forced to share the apartment with a young male Akita. She had even mistakenly thought her doxie could be the new little Mascot for The Sausage Baron on the Beach. But no no no. The Baron’s dog would not have it and you are assigned repair duty. The shaken ex-new roommate tells you this is not the first time that Jordan (not his real name) the chewed up Dachshund has been tasted by the Akita who lives above the Sausage Empire with jewels intact simply protecting his territory from any would-be new cute little “Mascot” with any designs on being favorite to the Baron.<br /><br />You stabilize and transport the victim to the clinic for surgical repairs and hospitalization and this where the trend begins and a new character also emerges<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rocky Raccoon</span><br /><br />A beautiful early morning drive to the Far Continent as you call it owing to the fact that every destination in Palos Verdes is 8 miles <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iUGgvgbNP9gLcADKh3JPra_2ghdvkC_rYiYd-QJOVi_zIzNpkS84h4y5ZpHmXN-H3NQvHBoxYw6oRAm_ufV9ypzjTJpqwpwbGfYzUfoi4jWXE2k6o7lQMVOskbzsI3o7DUdnml77oOI/s1600/underbed.tiff"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iUGgvgbNP9gLcADKh3JPra_2ghdvkC_rYiYd-QJOVi_zIzNpkS84h4y5ZpHmXN-H3NQvHBoxYw6oRAm_ufV9ypzjTJpqwpwbGfYzUfoi4jWXE2k6o7lQMVOskbzsI3o7DUdnml77oOI/s200/underbed.tiff" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656877915028127330" border="0" /></a>from the freeway a painful tragedy of civil engineering flaws in the system and you end up on the bluff overlooking grand ocean cliffs and Donald Trump’s golf course with ridiculous vacant estates down below. It is here you find the lovely caretaker of animals indoor and out and she asks you in and she leads you past picture window sweeping views and into a room to a cowering little Torti under the bed.<br /><br />Rocky (real name because of her nickname) plays a game of chase me here and there down the stairs up again and into the bathroom. She is snuffling snorting through her nose. You find Rocky has been bitten in the face mostly likely by a raccoon judging by the story of our caretaker, the puncture wounds into her sinus. You picture a curio<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dnt43L_CRgtQ-JwY4q2DGtsZbmxfXta3F6Gvfth4K5icBGEpgu_34YkYiWouxgbJO7fg_F_JnruXQ2NkEVrX04h-SZ2Wc20dxvlGVf1pEOlJvVcgoWKaJJTQEQ0oPqV2R3bqXtln7MQ/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dnt43L_CRgtQ-JwY4q2DGtsZbmxfXta3F6Gvfth4K5icBGEpgu_34YkYiWouxgbJO7fg_F_JnruXQ2NkEVrX04h-SZ2Wc20dxvlGVf1pEOlJvVcgoWKaJJTQEQ0oPqV2R3bqXtln7MQ/s200/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656878597484464226" border="0" /></a>us cat nosing up to a cowering raccoon outside since the raccoon enjoy cat food as much as the next wild animal and the pickens are getting slim much like the look of the coyotes.<br /><br />Rocky heads 8 miles out from the Far Continent back to Metropolis and the clinic to be radiographed, surgically repaired, and hospitalized. She is a lovely little cat as it turns out and a staff favourite.<br /><br />You grow quite fond of her during her stay in her own private suite and your office. She is even more of a joy on her SECOND round of hospitalization…but that’s a later episode as ATTACK WEEK continues…Standby Rocky.<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4dkKWNfqg2MTzkkyNs9wZcu2mZElMzr1JoVV5HqIAtlD2zbw6GI0TZmaTsfm1qH0NEiQgvLtsc-ZD0ytHgyidp7Vhk4s1Ds_LhOAliPOusZOgKhhHWsuQqGDTAqOWuUnuLknlHyOBOc/s1600/IMG_2183.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN4dkKWNfqg2MTzkkyNs9wZcu2mZElMzr1JoVV5HqIAtlD2zbw6GI0TZmaTsfm1qH0NEiQgvLtsc-ZD0ytHgyidp7Vhk4s1Ds_LhOAliPOusZOgKhhHWsuQqGDTAqOWuUnuLknlHyOBOc/s200/IMG_2183.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656878600637637378" border="0" /></a><br />You erroneously assumed that a couple fun hours with the family at the bowling alley could go by without the service summoning you again. You ask the caller to hold while you gutter two balls not distracted at all by this, the third attack, this time dog on dog.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Sticky Goo of A Power Grab While Owners on Vacation</span><br /><br />It’s a typical struggle of young vs. old, strong vs. weak, Akita vs. Sharpei Cross, owners-on-vacation variety of attack. The caller is your neighbor who was roped in as dog sitter while the previous dog sitter has a medical emergency of his own. Now you come to understand the Sharpei is under the house and was attacked LAST NIGHT. You envision wounds starting to fester and the dog going septic aka bacterial blood infection when you hear the dog is not eating. You inform your family of a shortening of the evening of bowling ending on just one single game once again they all painfully acquiesce and head back to your SUV.<br /><br />You arrive at the dark residence to find a frightened bloodied Sharpei/Shepherd mix Agatha (not her real name) being consoled by your neighbor Patty the defacto dog sitter. You calmly examine Agatha and sedate her and soon she is calm and carefully whisked off by you and Alex the Tech to the clinic for some surgical repair and hospitalization.<br /><br />Agatha look-a-like<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWThm0RCdRDbmnCdAgsQuf54LKnYhT4ttJWRvlhxgrO0rVnC7Z5Bj9zJ_v1JKlcBUJR8D9Da65F0QqaFwQLrBbHPo2PtgLEcLiBYnrLvj7y57-did68B0hVnKfMkjvOqyt4yQZukuVTM/s1600/napoleon_300.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWThm0RCdRDbmnCdAgsQuf54LKnYhT4ttJWRvlhxgrO0rVnC7Z5Bj9zJ_v1JKlcBUJR8D9Da65F0QqaFwQLrBbHPo2PtgLEcLiBYnrLvj7y57-did68B0hVnKfMkjvOqyt4yQZukuVTM/s200/napoleon_300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656880343997728674" border="0" /></a><br />You are rudely reminded while suturing and debriding a Sharpei that the cut edges of this breed’s skin is like a sort of “goo”, or sticky gel. Most unusual. In fact, certain of the small lacerations and punctures have automatically glued back together by the goo. You piece the dog together and place drains and keep Agatha at the clinic in her own suite. Yes lodging in the same suite as Rocky Raccoon the previous attack victim.<br /><br />The previously aggressive dog has becoming quite loving here in her safe environment where she stays to heal her housing situation up in the air. Can she return to the hostile home with the young Akita or should she find a new place to live? Was the balance simply upset by the extended leave of the owners on vacation as you have found to be a verified phenomenon. The owners may have created a power struggle and their absence triggered a power grab by the Akita since they certainly must have punished his outbursts against his elder aunt Agatha the shear disrespect has raised the owners ire leading to reprimand after reprimand of the juvenile mush dog creating further imbalance. The stage was set by PREVENTING a natural pecking order to occur. If the Akita is meant to be dominant then it should be so.<br /><br />You discharge the damaged, yet recovering Agatha who jumps for joy to see the returned vacationing owners of the dogs. They admit scolding the Akita for attempting to dominate the previous Alpha Agatha. But the change would have happened and peace restored quickly and naturally if it weren’t for owners’ (although well-meaning) interference of the process and the damage may have been avoided or at least postponed for awhile. Can’t we all just get along?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Marauder Cat Disrespects Territory of Beverly Hills Cat</span><br /><br />After the third ATTACK you fully accept the arrival of the FOURTH in the series when a frantic previous client calls and is in need of assistance getting the cat into a carrier and to the vet. Instead you offer a home visit to assess and treat on site or transport with sedation as needed.<br /><br />Upon arrival to suburban Beverly Hills, you exit the vehicle in the driveway to meet the worried owner and both look down on the ground between the adjacent neighbor driveways to find multiple tufts of fluffy white hair and both surmise that we are standing on the battlefield where BOOTS (not his real name) stood his ground and made a stand on the border. The woman proclaims that the marauder cat should know better and not have entered her cat’s territory. It’s a rule of catdom, she espouses. You beg to differ. Cats who spend anytime outdoors are at risk of getting into a fight, hit by car, catch a virus, some deadly and so on.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOKFlhHsEC4LlaYCDIrioQdUZUWCJ2ODpz-lvvjdN5BjQdtIIXxX00mTq-MQW_EHFgVf_uRcJP-ypDRtGZSCb1GLMdMvp4UwPwmaSD9Sk8uU5SpE9QbjsafWOJVF7fUrq_Q8_MKyYFuY/s1600/IMG_2142.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOKFlhHsEC4LlaYCDIrioQdUZUWCJ2ODpz-lvvjdN5BjQdtIIXxX00mTq-MQW_EHFgVf_uRcJP-ypDRtGZSCb1GLMdMvp4UwPwmaSD9Sk8uU5SpE9QbjsafWOJVF7fUrq_Q8_MKyYFuY/s200/IMG_2142.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656881579982908306" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You extract the poor, shredded kitty from (where else?) under the bed with kindness and sedation. The owner continues to maintain that the marauder should respect poor Boots’ land.<br /><br />Due the severity of the injuries and multiple locations you decide it be best to bring the cat in for repairs under gas anesthesia at the clinic. Boots hangs out with you for the day and is released in the afternoon without an E-collar that you had advised. You’ve come to accept people’s personal dissent with certain veterinary standards like neutering before puberty or rejection of antibiotics or corticosteroids as well as the rejection of post-op recommendations. But fortunately Boots leaves your sutures alone. And returns to his chaperoned visits within the high-walled-in backyard with his mom and only looks longingly now and then through living room picture window overlooking the front lawn formally known as his territory.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Coyote Loses Silky Meal in Shocking Fashion</span><br /><br />Sunday comes around and a full day of family fun and treatment of the attack victim in-patient, Rocky Raccoon who has survived a Raccoon chomp to the face and has now revisited your clinic due to an adverse reaction to a certain anti-inflammatory and must repair his kidneys with IV fluids etc but now the day has ended or has it you think as you lay your head down tentatively upon a cold pillow just as the Service buzzes the iPhone. You snap to coherence for the consult with the frantic owner. His little dog, Ty (not his real name) was attacked by a Coyote and they need you to come finish off the poor dog. The owner describes the lack of breathing or shallow breathing and the condition improves with his every word and now the dog is sitting up and how weird it was that he looked half dead and you explain he was actually in shock and has snapped out of it and the owner sees blood and implores you to come.<br /><br /><br /> Webster (not his real name), the urban coyote<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxAjH5APceEM3lgOhCbxVhENVNCnlR-NLMb-30YKja7aKBsHMFfJ9m9FJ2Tpy1SXnvd3D8Nqr47oLiZKNfN3ydlowwdRMmqvXiN9OjGMVLHzZ8iNc_f8_DOokqgultS8TdiVJLwrnYCQ/s1600/citycoyote.tiff"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxAjH5APceEM3lgOhCbxVhENVNCnlR-NLMb-30YKja7aKBsHMFfJ9m9FJ2Tpy1SXnvd3D8Nqr47oLiZKNfN3ydlowwdRMmqvXiN9OjGMVLHzZ8iNc_f8_DOokqgultS8TdiVJLwrnYCQ/s200/citycoyote.tiff" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656882070081780770" border="0" /></a><br />You arrive bleary-eyed at the Los Feliz estate the housekeeper motions you inside the property gate that swings closed behind. You are greeted by an energetic Aussie and bulldog that lead you up the steps into the house as if they know you are there to help their wounded friend. The mom and dad of the house greet you and lead you to the fallen Ty cowering in a dog bed in the hallway. You give the pup a painkiller after determining his stability and surmise that several deep puncture wounds in the neck are in need of surgical attention. You wrap Ty’s neck with bandage materials and padding as the dad explains that the coyote had grabbed the dog by the neck with his collar in his mouth as the horrified housekeeper was screaming all the while and thereupon reaching the gate the coyote must have received a nice jolting shock and dropped Ty. You come to understand the victim dog, as well as the other pets, are equipped with a shock collar associated with Invisible Fence surrounding the property. Thus, Ty is saved by the electronic collar which the coyote broke off and dropped in the yard.<br /><br />You transport Ty back to the clinic for repairs where he mends over the next few days finally going to the confines behind the Invisible Fence and its previously unforeseen additional level of protection. And so ends ATTACK WEEK… till we meet againDr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-45712113140298356122011-08-31T00:50:00.000-07:002011-08-31T01:21:47.719-07:00Allergy, the Miracle and Maneuvers
<br /><style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; </style>August 15 2011
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<br /><p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:180%;">Y</span>ou head out to another Sunday night emergency they come lik<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8lElY7pJrbAuVa3KkAIemTPLEq4jAW_ZjdVjs0WpxqHXnoLbFtv0U4M3dbJ0ZzF8FtJ0pCZc7J4Y4crCt7HR1DrcOvfHIT43M0mpcGG0Cm6k4cbtDKt7ljEBKuLAyBGsQu_a0GPb9AM/s1600/moon.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8lElY7pJrbAuVa3KkAIemTPLEq4jAW_ZjdVjs0WpxqHXnoLbFtv0U4M3dbJ0ZzF8FtJ0pCZc7J4Y4crCt7HR1DrcOvfHIT43M0mpcGG0Cm6k4cbtDKt7ljEBKuLAyBGsQu_a0GPb9AM/s320/moon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646926615732000242" border="0" /></a>e clockwork especially during the full moon when the crazies are out and the police copter searchlights the area and now you’re stuck at La Brea near Olympic where the cops have walled off the block and you are trying to get to a whimpering pup in pain. You eventually pass the drama as the popo scans for perps and slither your way to the Larchmont hood. Two lovely English ladies and their ailing cocker Cammy (not her real name) with back pain. Except the dog is up and running around. The medication that was given for pain and inflammation had kicked in. Low and behold. It works! It is here where you picture a lovely Sunday evening tea with these fine ladies. Instead the emergency aspect turns into an allergy consult and blood screening and connecting with a nice pet owner seeing the value in the service.<span style=""> </span>You feel good about that.<span style=""> </span>You try to remember all the pets you’ve seen and you realize you can form a finite amount of close bonds with people and see the brilliant and the amazing stories of survival through love and care. These people out shine the horrors you have found along the way, ignorant neglect, or the holding on too long.
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You come upon the strange case of Leo <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Z2Nv0f2Nsm9o0M7-CcH6pUfXDsqr2j6hZtgGiPNu2UlXdidnFNFzlNjhn5vpyJoBdcee_A2PFqJ7LyXcM9RtqpbLPKp-o8nNyrY1bHletj8ZdxgUINp7b9u1DcTMlx-q7UyMJdI6xM/s1600/leonard.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Z2Nv0f2Nsm9o0M7-CcH6pUfXDsqr2j6hZtgGiPNu2UlXdidnFNFzlNjhn5vpyJoBdcee_A2PFqJ7LyXcM9RtqpbLPKp-o8nNyrY1bHletj8ZdxgUINp7b9u1DcTMlx-q7UyMJdI6xM/s320/leonard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646925426463883282" border="0" /></a>(not his real name) the cat at the home of a race car driver.<span style=""> </span>Leo is a miracle of science. He is living with a Creatinine of 18 and that is unheard of. This cat should be a case study for the ages. You come to realize the race car driver, a man’s man, is really a pussy cat love magician. His undying faith and removal of doubt keeps the cat on an even keel with him. The unbelievable bond has defying all laws of medicine. OK, so the man is force feeding the cat and giving him a laundry list of medications designed to strengthen kidney function. There are jars of things you never have heard of that he is religiously giving to his precious Leo. It is then you realize that the owner’s unfailing drive to save his beloved cat is so powerful that it defies all reason and logic. You have never seen a cat continue to live with those numbers. But the number is not a life. It is a magical thing of beauty and mystery.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You maneuver through traffic jamming heading east at the wrong time 545PM. No westbound street is spared and you catch up on email, Facebook and your calendar. You make a game of shortcutting your way across town from Brentwood a measly 4 miles back to the clinic, but other shrewd drivers are on to your game. They swerve and accelerate up the side streets right along with you. They follow your interference boldly crossing 6 lanes of Olympic Blvd to get to the other side. Your deftly avoid collisions snake-laning inept drivers to bypass them on your quest to shave 10 minutes from the 4 mile commute. Side street, alleys and corner-cutting gas stations fill the repertoire until you finally slither only slightly against traffic when needed, pull though the private alley to the garage you call Central Service. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s the day before ATTACK WEEK...</p> Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-36330885516925806812011-07-12T00:43:00.000-07:002011-07-16T15:11:34.307-07:00ArmadoggonYou enter a yard a barking leaping Boxer named after a famous one greets you behind a sideways removed room door leaned to block him and his housemates. The Boxer just returned from neutering at the shelter and still had his testosterone enough to rip a hole in the shepherd mix now nipping at your pants, ripping the invoice from your hand. The caretaker apologizes while attempting to herd the 4 dogs on the deck into the house. You avoid loss of appendage and anesthetize the victim of the Boxer's Tyson-like bite enough to repair said injury.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3rWz2VODlDaSu0GrHxjbQ_JB9X2TLtz2nL9aGGDmAQXsttHiuyijyXbynxlRdERwKE4gz2o7POq2rabiGL7FCs7e6o_J1OIBZJunH0bUrv9kuDweymXIJE5KCXYBNXvr5GpbQSw7UGU/s1600/DocBoxer.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3rWz2VODlDaSu0GrHxjbQ_JB9X2TLtz2nL9aGGDmAQXsttHiuyijyXbynxlRdERwKE4gz2o7POq2rabiGL7FCs7e6o_J1OIBZJunH0bUrv9kuDweymXIJE5KCXYBNXvr5GpbQSw7UGU/s200/DocBoxer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628384150904404754" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You are presented another dog as the caretaker tells the sad story of her family's wrongdoings and the lawyers and police and animal control's wrongdoings. The neighbors are certainly doing her wrong with complaints of barking and public nuisance of whom she claims called the POLICE from their vacation home in another State. You examine the subordinate Pitbull that did receive a superficial gash. You treat this as well while enduring additional fantastical stories of lost chances, wealth and real estate.<br /><br />On your way out the Boxer leaps up to you paws on your shoulders and you take his arms and dance with him clownishly to snap the woman from her funk knowing full well this dog is exhibiting pure dominant behavior. You advise the caretaker of your concerns that the injuries will continue and yet she assures you the dogs are undergoing training and she simply loves them while attempting to corral them barking command after command. You had put a rebel dog T-shirt on the victim and she looks very cute while now awake from the anesthesia enough to nip at your pants and herd you out past the heavy door and broken gate. Give the antibiotics and pain meds you say with a smile. <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3EPdaVmOQsIazvz4SxQALx_EFC71pLNA7CCAWwqVW9pZ2r33Xp8W03smSZN5o06VANSb3U56Al2f6FcFYxJEe3AE9JA_bzxWfLYc4GXIL3BFNM6yvQoBCmpCqyk0YzCjzuxlD20Ulko/s1600/Database-Gridlock.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3EPdaVmOQsIazvz4SxQALx_EFC71pLNA7CCAWwqVW9pZ2r33Xp8W03smSZN5o06VANSb3U56Al2f6FcFYxJEe3AE9JA_bzxWfLYc4GXIL3BFNM6yvQoBCmpCqyk0YzCjzuxlD20Ulko/s320/Database-Gridlock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628386224986057490" border="0" /></a>You head up the 405 through that lovely Sepulveda pass becoming ever wider accelerating erosion on a grand scale simply to allow many more lanes of cars crammed along side you after this coming CARMAGEDDON... Lord save the poor animals in need of emergency attention in their homes. Except that 911 VETS will have PROVIDERS on both sides of the BLOCKADE TO the two civilizations: Valley Tribes and Westside Tribes. Fear not you think. You hope. As you reach your destination your thoughts turn to a helicopter service that airlifts pets from the home to the ASEC or AEEC or AEC ASG or many other 24-hour emergency clinics. Not yet, you think.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There's a feral cat on the driveway with impossible dreadlocks.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You rush around with the kids on Sunday and mix in a few housecalls until late afternoon when the family is begging you to hang out and start the barbeque when a call from the Service transfers you to the same caretaker with four dogs… who suddenly has none. You discover the Boxer attacked the others again and turned on the woman trying to pry them apart ripping gashes in her arm sending her to the ER for repairs. The Boxer now awaits trial in the County Shelter from whence he came. A nice dog who simply needs to live as the only dog but now has a scarlet letter of red tainting him for future adoptability due to liability. The rebel dog and the cohorts now reside in doggy sleepover camp for a piece. Hopefully together away from the others.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">You recommend the woman receive adequate care except that her Insurance company is guilty of wrongdoing as is the Emergency Room. You hold fast to your non-culpability in the incident as a wrongdoer and remain the champion of animals you think you are. You envision a bark-free night on her block as the poor woman heals from a tough lesson in dog pack management.</p> The Service wakes you again at 3:45AM. Monday starts early this week.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-81600697854256736732011-05-25T19:10:00.001-07:002011-05-25T19:35:32.656-07:00The Goddess and the Puppet<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1</style>May 25, 2011<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The world did not end. You continue to try and save lives…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOZEWWR87x7SMdDOMzqc-86h5_F7qP7u81wH5vY0qMUm4-yPQfwXLMMS2TIyIjpRpj_SMZni2PuaeSGulcc1oMYD4KAoHUK_EZ7SVTjV0-ex6BImy4-nklBZiptXGHng9AJcLDFgfPoU/s1600/IMG_1654.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOZEWWR87x7SMdDOMzqc-86h5_F7qP7u81wH5vY0qMUm4-yPQfwXLMMS2TIyIjpRpj_SMZni2PuaeSGulcc1oMYD4KAoHUK_EZ7SVTjV0-ex6BImy4-nklBZiptXGHng9AJcLDFgfPoU/s200/IMG_1654.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610842500362951826" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You hold Boots the Puppet Cat and pet him as never felt before. He doesn’t care; he can’t react. You determine Boots to be suffering from a neurological disorder where he cannot recognize where his feet can go. He feels his feet and withdraws, but can’t get up and move. Puppet Cat purrs and likes to lie in the sun. He eats heartily as long as the food is in his face. You give him a whole can of A/D and his medications. You determine he has heart disease the ultrasound your performed out of curiosity.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You found Boots lying in the dirt. He is the stray cat that the neighbors are feeding. The primary feeder, the woman who summoned you is willing to help Boots with a limited budget. Now he is your project. His charm is unbelievable. His will to survive astounding. He stays in the clinic for weeks. Because he is improving…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Goddess and the Seizing Shih Tzu</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Service connects you to a very distraught woman on the line describing her dog has been foaming at the mouth and is concerned about Rabies and how she’s taking care of her husband thirty years her senior who’s sick and her life is caving in right now and you hear a humble kindness in her voice feeling her pain and assure her the dog has not Rabies but a possible seizure-like episode and you will be right over.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You arrive at the abode and answereth the door a terrycloth-robed goddess ten years past her prime yet quite lovely with long Godiva-like hair and a sad, exhausted look on her face. She has this glow about her you can’t figure out as her Chihuahua mix squeak-barks incessantly while you perch on your toolbox trying to get a history. The TV is blaring organ soundtrack to some old, bizarre Swedish black and white film.<span style=""> </span>The husband, 85, is propped in a wheelchair spouting non-sequiturs about the dog and some random facts that the goddess whispers corrections to you as her he speaks like a UN interpreter. Bonnie the portly Shih Tzu in question wobbles toward you and is described as the love of her life what could be wrong with her doctor is she going to die am I going to lose her should we put her down.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">You attempt to give some hope that the condition may be treatable and not to jump to conclusions when suddenly starts another foaming episode where the dog spins pivoting on her back legs round and around and around foaming drool with a tic and still you calmly reassure the woman that this is a seizure and you are going to stop it with some Valium you quickly whip out of the box and give to the dog. The spinning subsides and the exhausted terrier wanders under the table to lie down.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The goddess pours out her heart to you confiding or confessing trusting you to her past and how she was once a singing star on foreign television and how rabid fans begged her to sign their bodies and about her abusive former husband(s) and your eye catches a painting of the goddess on the wall in a shrine flanked by gold statuettes on pedestals, the youthful goddess scantily depicted in a eerie loveliness makes you a tad uncomfortable never mind the cranky man in the wheelchair with a urine catheter draining flanked by two paintings of Marilyn Monroe on the wall beside a painting of the goddess and this current husband in better days. You take blood and urine samples from the sedated pup and recommend a 24-hour hospital to watch her which she declines and will call you if it gets worse and make note of any more episodes.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You return the next day the goddess has a son living in the garage converted he looks 25 is 33 and he feigns concern for the seizing dog smiling at you. The goddess had told you about the son living at the house using her credit card(s) and how he got in her face and threatened her and you want to deck the guy but remain as professional as you should. This time Bonnie is spinning and foaming the wanders the room twitching with a 104.5 fever and you explain she must be taken to the emergency 24-hour hospital all the while the husband is yelling out for his goddess to bring him something and you just feel so bad she must play nursemaid to the demented guy as well as dealing with a seizing best friend who might have meningitis or poisoning or just epilepsy is possible.<span style=""> </span>The Chihuahua mix barks shushed by the poor woman who finally agrees. Fending off your own headache you sedate to transport the plump little girl. The son follows you in his step-dad’s Sedan to the ER … where they find she has very high blood pressure! Is that all?? No.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Puppet Cat lounges in the sun on the clinic patio with Alex. He purrs up a storm and stretches his legs pretending to be normal as a defense mechanism. He still can’t get up. Where you put him, there he’ll be. You test his proprioception and his feeling is slightly better. It’s been a week and you feel he may recover so you continue your project cat and treat his heart disease and feed, water and clean him and hug him and feel him getting thinner…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You wonder why cases with the same problem come in threes. It has always been that way as far as you recall for over 25 years of practice. Also why do people seem to have the same disease as the animal on a regular basis? What is that about? Do we pick an animal the not only fits our personality and looks, but our medical predispositions? In the same night you get a call that one cat is in heat (but is spayed (?)) and attracted to the man of the house and a call where an intact Rottweiler is incessantly trying to hump the female owner who upon careful history admits she’s in season.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://accim.net/"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 50px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuD5IZzlDrFaDvvyExca_bzwvgg3DQ3Cy-fgV3CbjZjkudbyRXrKuSIwzuEAH9cwGZ7ruSX0U-SSbwuAtvTkMGSCp6EZjEoxP7M2fHsmgb8uMzrxBDroOMh27it8fOlPg9QUn49rCHQY/s200/accim.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610845954855269138" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">You visit Bonnie in the critical care unit since you have a continuing education session there that evening and she looks disoriented and probably blind and how the criticalist found a mass in the chest as well. You speak on the phone with the goddess about the poor outcome and she is so distraught and you want to help and refer a grief counselor for everything and she gets strong over the phone like the tough Chicagoan she is and realizes she can get through and it will be tough be she knew this was coming and is prepared and then you realize the lucky man’s Marilyn Monroe will help soothe him on to the next phase of his journey.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So are the Lakers out. Life goes on…somehow.</p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-53953529282988990652011-04-03T01:08:00.000-07:002011-04-14T13:33:40.173-07:00Dropped calls and Droppings<style>p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:180%;">You</span> maneuver up the Sepulveda pass returning from the Valley for the second time today all the while wishing there were a way to connect your iTunes from the iPhone into the trusty 2004 Highlander as well as connecting to the vibrating seatcover with speakers near the headrest. You try to field a call from the Service. You fear the reception will fail as usual since A<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UaLuL7K0Q3SG1h9s3LNEhGpOAWCa1ht_rN1cQwIlFWH7HhnkHHgDYLTK2g7X8cs4Ri2I3INy1MvGmi5ouTCv0BPgLHlqb7YD-J_WupIE0rxLZVUHteHnOt1LPqhouiWicfIeNpn2bno/s1600/070802gridlock.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UaLuL7K0Q3SG1h9s3LNEhGpOAWCa1ht_rN1cQwIlFWH7HhnkHHgDYLTK2g7X8cs4Ri2I3INy1MvGmi5ouTCv0BPgLHlqb7YD-J_WupIE0rxLZVUHteHnOt1LPqhouiWicfIeNpn2bno/s200/070802gridlock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595538278804916258" border="0" /></a>TT&SUCK lives up to their name. Dispatch tells you the caller has some questions about a home euthanasia. You gladly accept and connect to a caller who seems to have bypassed the operator with trickery and deception.<span style=""> </span>She probes your attitude about THIS reason to put her dog down.<span style=""> </span>The beagle mix they rescued is biting her family. You give the speech about how the dog needs to be quarantined for two weeks BUT you hear the beeping in your headset. Call Fail. THANK YOU AT&SUCK but then you call back the service to connect to the operator and have them reconnect and you are on hold reaching the top of the Pass when the operator comes on and states the woman just had questions and as you explain to the operator about the quarantine and other measures the DAMN BEEP ending the call once again-Thank you for using AT&SUCK, how may I DROP your call? And you revel over how primitive communications have become.<span style=""> </span>Did you get the point across, you wonder?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="file:///var/folders/k6/k6LtTp0mHCCQvvoMTw5T-k+++TI/-Tmp-/com.apple.mail.drag/photo.JPG" alt="" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:180%;">Earlier</span> in the day in surgery you remove a lead shot bullet from a cat’s skull. The cat is missing an eye from an “accident” years ago. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyjmpbudeil5lVDf-89mboKWNn8V5v_9k3-B2a_af9Z6k2w8YNZPun6NUvd1FvWaJQvJx6nGXqPTqayOI0xhNMYR3HcGyQIOEsYCKrwrXdvlTwdrNl6wvXlZ689gBKPq9jxx9lONnJEdg/s1600/JCbullet.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyjmpbudeil5lVDf-89mboKWNn8V5v_9k3-B2a_af9Z6k2w8YNZPun6NUvd1FvWaJQvJx6nGXqPTqayOI0xhNMYR3HcGyQIOEsYCKrwrXdvlTwdrNl6wvXlZ689gBKPq9jxx9lONnJEdg/s200/JCbullet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595531296966299554" border="0" /></a>In your mind you try to assemble the trajectory through the eye socket to where the shot now rests lodged in the tympanic bulla. No one ever bothered to Xray the cat when the good Samaritan first brought her in after being left for dead. At the other hospital they removed the damaged eye and assumed the cat a hit by car victim.<span style=""> </span>Now in your care you have battled the chronic ear infection for over<span style=""> </span>a year until finally after numerous suggestions you convince the owner to xray.<span style=""> </span>Unbelievable, there the shot lay on the digital rad.<span style=""> </span>White metal foreign body stuck in the bulla.<span style=""> </span>You realize you can reach it fairly easily and surgically remove the problem. Which you do. The cat's ear is clearing so far.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">If only all cases were this cut and dried…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">[DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU SICKEN EASILY]</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You head back through the Pass toward Sunset sitting still the late evening logjam. Your mind wanders.<span style=""> </span>You study the 405 widening project the civil engineers have going with enormous reinforced cement walls holding the mountain open for the new stream of car lanes soon to come.<span style=""> </span>You are still wiped from the early morning call.<span style=""> </span>Monday morning, 3AM. The witching hour…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Bleary-eyed, you drive the 10 east toward Downtown LA straight shot smooth sail not that gridlock 12 hours ago no you are cruising in on the Downtown loft community: people with lots of pets without a vet.<span style=""> </span>No one seems to want to set up shop. Not yet. But you have been Downtown many times and it’s always the same scenario. Downtown parking during the day is a HUMONGOUS hassle for the housecall vet.<span style=""> </span>No garage is nearby best find a meter. You discover parking garages take no credit cards. And you never carry enough cash. However, the meter DOES take credit cards. The meter is always a long trek with a cart two plus blocks around the corner. But at night, Downtown is awesome for parking and live entertainment on the stage of life. You never know what human drama is about to unfold. You are never concerned for your safety. You count on the “911” part of your brand to command some respect which it does in other hoods. And this time a loading zone is ready and waiting for you, doctor. You buzz the intercom. The owner has to come down.<span style=""> </span>She’s disabled film student and her A.D.D. service dog Sporty (not his real name)<span style=""> </span>You recall opening up squirrelly Sporty’s stomach a two short months ago to remove a bunch of bones and plastic. Doggy-rooter being successful kept Sporty alive just so he could get in trouble repeat offender. The lovely young woman in a wheelchair greets you with that happy-as-hell-to-see-you-again-doc look. She is cough-retching, she explains, from the awful stench going on up in her loft. Great, you think.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You enter the Downtown Deco building that reminds of Gotham City.<span style=""> </span>Retro elevator doors slide open and summon you in.<span style=""> </span>On the way up the owner states that Sporty had diarrhea everywhere and there is blood. You enter the loft with its spacious floorplan and picture windows with their big-ass view of the city. You gaze across the room and notice the large plastic airline kennel. F<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjgMtuRRX4WQhQAwTMhELKPBJLBdmzvFglODtKLAq_wbJn_9HXrrsMSTmmWdEImjMlwOknv8Iz207tauPN9ToXSXaQoYj7Me8OwSDNkV8E5rOCb8GPQ2zfaCkj1kLbZUdg5Aj5y4ywbE/s1600/dog-eats-garbage.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjgMtuRRX4WQhQAwTMhELKPBJLBdmzvFglODtKLAq_wbJn_9HXrrsMSTmmWdEImjMlwOknv8Iz207tauPN9ToXSXaQoYj7Me8OwSDNkV8E5rOCb8GPQ2zfaCkj1kLbZUdg5Aj5y4ywbE/s200/dog-eats-garbage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595539393636672658" border="0" /></a>rom what you can tell, looks like the kennel got caught in a shitstorm. It’s completely smeared inside with feces.<span style=""> </span>She directs you to the bathroom where Sporty is. You anticipate the worst. A morose creature laying in his own waste. You open the bathroom door and are perplexed by a Sporty who greets you by leaping to get out. The bathroom is a horrific bloody shit swamp. You tie the dog and find him… dehydrated.<span style=""> </span>You wonder what foreign objects he dined upon this time. Last time bones and the plastic from the crate are what you removed. You search the room checking for clues not breathing through your nose: a technique perfected over the years.<span style=""> </span>You explain to the woman Sporty has to go back to the hospital for X-rays.<span style=""> </span>But first you must tackle the lovely task of cleaning the airline kennel. You glove up. Scoop after scoop of poop. Spraying. Wiping. Gagging. Flushing. Sopping. Wiping. Washing. Etc. You fathom bathroom cleanup after a Dodger game is easier… Finally, Sporty rides in the kennel upon your rolling cart back to the loading zone.<span style=""> </span>The woman waves good bye…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But you never find any foreign material, never find the cause. Probably was somebody’s sandwich. A piece of garbage resembling food that the Sporty dog loves to get.<span style=""> </span>He is lucky this time. No surgery. You tell the film director to keep an eye on him. Keep him on the halter. We must control what goes into that mouth. Don’t we all?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And now you have the Puppet cat to deal with…</p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-29926217063245564052011-03-01T00:01:00.000-08:002011-03-17T16:05:42.374-07:00There's No Place Like a Home<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">You</span></span> enter the backyard of two dogs that <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZBVkvpEJ_BNNgWdGyXM_XYOh3jjJruo6YxrzYt6CKHd4wbPx6EaqEmraEhUF99B_Pnln052ITf1__kZ2p-jr46U-hWBu-RtxoFpSdnptuZ7E0ojCANPSSL2eVQ2XObhOXEezeSF8sSE/s1600/IMG_1477.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZBVkvpEJ_BNNgWdGyXM_XYOh3jjJruo6YxrzYt6CKHd4wbPx6EaqEmraEhUF99B_Pnln052ITf1__kZ2p-jr46U-hWBu-RtxoFpSdnptuZ7E0ojCANPSSL2eVQ2XObhOXEezeSF8sSE/s200/IMG_1477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579024633472823874" border="0" /></a>have been fighting. It's just their house now. Then you hear about the manchild who lived there in Florence on his mother's good graces and has left his dogs at the boarded up house. But he did leave a dog house for the dogs. And a garage. The mother comes to feed the dogs every day for the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCubOrVkmvtnkU_xDSlZBwydpAbdP6j8pne95MIhr9NfgJabK0B8I9EbRe-hkEyEi09VlhCsezZf753OJq3C6Wipbh2o_WtnWjXz-kXgb1aajIn4zeWcWcPy6YH2oxAatqDmT-7j8G0Vo/s1600/IMG_1476.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCubOrVkmvtnkU_xDSlZBwydpAbdP6j8pne95MIhr9NfgJabK0B8I9EbRe-hkEyEi09VlhCsezZf753OJq3C6Wipbh2o_WtnWjXz-kXgb1aajIn4zeWcWcPy6YH2oxAatqDmT-7j8G0Vo/s200/IMG_1476.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583309719863668066" border="0" /></a>son. The son bought another house in another neighborhood but he didn't want those dogs. They have been fighting and he doesn't wanna DEAL with it. The dogs fought over chicken his mom brought them. You and Tech creep further into the backyard to find one of the dogs cowering inside his house. You catch the characteristic whiff of infected bite wounds. Kona the Akita (not her real name) is real bitten up. Terrible thing. You and Tech have to rope and pry her from her wood house in order to help her. Tech finds the other dog, a Mastiff, wagging her tail inside the garage. She's got cuts on her head, but she's gotten the least of it.<span style=""> </span>The mother tells you how the son is not very responsible. He told her that it was her fault that they fought. Now you have to take the dog to hospital and Kona's not feeling so hot but will after the pain shot you gave kicks in. <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">On the drive back to the Westside and a stop at Critical Care to hospitalize Kona you reminisce about all the homes you have been to and all the diverse living situations for pets in their owner's environment. From the girl who lived in a closet with her cat, to the toy dog running down the long corridor that is the b<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkEN80o62sds7t4kXLxK8kLhcdu_gM7epLYPjF3ybpLnRlOkRYe6CLz_jwc2gaR1P-jts2jStTyQFzHW8GImZr6GVCk8Y3AhpDId05Q636zyjab6GgoND3VREbbf4hVZ3q4U9_G6WqLU/s1600/IMG_1246.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkEN80o62sds7t4kXLxK8kLhcdu_gM7epLYPjF3ybpLnRlOkRYe6CLz_jwc2gaR1P-jts2jStTyQFzHW8GImZr6GVCk8Y3AhpDId05Q636zyjab6GgoND3VREbbf4hVZ3q4U9_G6WqLU/s200/IMG_1246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579032033233630322" border="0" /></a>athroom/dressing room - powder room in some Starlet's mansion. Pets seem to adapt and adopt to their owner's and their surroundings. They make do with the space that they have.<span style=""> </span>They don't pine for more space and find their place in a huge space.<span style=""> </span>Pet's don't seem to mind the clutter you often discover upon entering their domain. They simply make their home in the junk around the junk through the junk. You tell Tech the story about the guy with two Great Danes (since passed away) and about his business, sport or pastime rescuing cats and their offspring. They live and breed within the junk pile. The wall of stuff dividing the room: chairs entwined with boxes and a BIKE and garden tools and a kitten comes out of there running through your legs out the door. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You sleep very little that night and the kids act up and the dogs bark at the squirrels and the mowers and blowers go off you go back at it and in no time you are back déjà vu at ANOTHER DOGFIGHT where the poor victim lives 40 crooked concrete steps above the street and you know how this is going to end with a large body coming down and your tech is out of cell range and dispatch did not acquire this information and now you need to make a new Rule. After passing two cabled bark-lunging pit mixes outside the rescue woman leads you into her abode where you enter the cozy cluttered room and the strong odor of kennel bum rushes into your lungs but somehow you instantly adapt. The poor, hairy Wookie on the floor is a mess of pink water and wounds. You labor dripping sweat shaving the anesthetized beast and finding extensive bruising with internal issues as well as a lot of swiss cheese skin who’s holes you debride and reduce with proper drainage but no matter what you do this puppy’s going to heaven. The new rescue bumped off the old Chow King and took his place. You console the owner as she curses the new dog.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Before you know it is night again and this night’s dog horror show is going to be the topper. Cause it’s Saturday Night! Time to party down dogs. Who’s it going to be? Nevermind you just finished up your “last call” at 9PM in time for dinner under the tin foil to be heated in the micro. It’s time for the Main Event. You are waiting and drifting and leaning elbow on the laptop making ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh till you jolt awake to the buzzing of the iPhone it’s the Service and there’s a dog fight. Unfarkingbelievable.<span style=""> </span>How did you know? Everything comes in threes you know. Groggily you attempt to determine the situation. There are two labs. The original dog and the new dog. New D has been quite a sore thumb lately. He’s aggressive. Finally tonight, Original D took offense to New D fronting like that and gave him a beat down. You hear more of the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhVrwWe1aEADzcMRG_KtzrYPlyX7EyvFLKwTEzSt_OA6c2X_yedR0W38Zht_X5BVugnnqemLei99vFSCuhRT_zn0saLr4mZfjEXwWSSC6qtnpwbzURjUw7ZTB3eilr2taZiymCbMX6K0/s1600/guarddog.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhVrwWe1aEADzcMRG_KtzrYPlyX7EyvFLKwTEzSt_OA6c2X_yedR0W38Zht_X5BVugnnqemLei99vFSCuhRT_zn0saLr4mZfjEXwWSSC6qtnpwbzURjUw7ZTB3eilr2taZiymCbMX6K0/s200/guarddog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583310422132272914" border="0" /></a>story and you gather additional pertinent facts that New D has been aggressive towards the family and they are quite afraid of him. They are trying to find him a home good luck without extensive behavioral evaluation medication and the risk of bodily harm where’s Cesar Milan when you think you need him? You ponder the possibilities: a usually very loyal loving breed like the Labrador turns on owners and the odds of a sociopathic brain disorder become exceedingly good in this case. And as dispatch is unable to approve the owner’s payment the owner tells you that she’s calling you from OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. She can’t go back in. The New D is in such severe pain he won’t let her back in the house. She wants YOU to go in there the late Steve Irwin style and sedate New D and get him out of there but it dawns on you that Animal Control would be perfect in this instance and she takes your advice. Can’t we all just get along?</p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-81693451183055662692011-02-01T00:55:00.000-08:002011-02-01T02:41:29.169-08:00Regular Mobile Vet Day in LA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAv-deuUYT0istlUaE5fbfcbT4VGRhyQqg1-s_nZzornbdZrNChhhhaDiimxLe9KSCkJ52GGvNRTlRjscJM0t3D5sFpAe4adlGk9AuitOZSx56Euj-1NYeC8R4B62Vqow6NW509oguF4/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAv-deuUYT0istlUaE5fbfcbT4VGRhyQqg1-s_nZzornbdZrNChhhhaDiimxLe9KSCkJ52GGvNRTlRjscJM0t3D5sFpAe4adlGk9AuitOZSx56Euj-1NYeC8R4B62Vqow6NW509oguF4/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568664866220977362" border="0" /></a>You wake up to the sound of barking Standard Poodles since your daughter let them out to go pee at 7 AM nevermind you were up until 2 AM "working the business" and the squirrels were too much to keep silent about and you are still sore form two days of hockey in a row when you know your 50-oid body is on its downward arc but you still have to get up check the facebook page to make sure you are still relevant.<br /><br />After the hot shower massage to reinvigorate you dress and grab the aluminum water bottle to fill with hot coffee since you left your Starbux mug at the office again and despite burning hand you check your mobile calendar and see it has morphed yet again to include more appointments criss-crossing the Greater LA area more than you'd like in a single day and you wonder when you will be able to get some more help.<br /><br />Judy tells you that someone wants you to go earlier and that another pet owner wants you to come a little later but the in-house appointment wants you to be on time since she has an appointment she can't miss so you manage to freeway think in your head with the help of the mobile traffic map that you could easily hit Studio City and then slide down the 101 to downtown and help a dog you are 95% sure will need to be dragged down the 10 to your office where the in-house clients are waiting.<br /><br />After a tearful goodbye in Studio City you proceed past the Capital Records Building and you notice the large red "W" suspended among the old Hollywood hotel logos like the Knickerbocker and you imagine that letter stood for your name and is taking its rightful place among the stars but you shake that off and join the red tail lights and slip off at Broadway only to remember how lovely it is to park downtown for a housecall.<br /><br />You recall many a downtown home visit trudging the cart with the too-hard wheels across the uneven sidewalks since you had to park blocks away at a meter forcing you to set your iPhone timer giving you exactly 50 minutes to conduct your exam, diagnostics and treatment and be back to avoid the ticket so this time you have to park at the meter again since Joe's Garage does NOT take credit cards but the meter does (?).<br /><br />After a bumpy stroll past puzzled business people, street people dog walkers and shop owners you arrive at the latest Office Loft residence and check in with the guard who knows exactly the unit for whom you are about to visit and taking the lift to meet a nice young woman in a wheelchair who has a dog barking in the bathroom.<br /><br />The loft is very spacious with a nice view of other nice lofts and the woman tells you that the building is loaded with dogs for whom there is no local vet and as you ponder that issue you discover that the dog who is a service lab has chewed his crate and bones to shards and that's exactly what you know you will find when you open his stomach.<br /><br />The woman reports "Dude" (not his real name) the lab has not eaten for 36 hours and has had nothing but vomit and diarrhea all over the place and you think that's no bulletin judging by the smell when you rolled your crap in and over his and then upon exam the chance that you were 5% wrong did not come to pass and soon you and the nice lady in a wheelchair are rolling Dude and your crap back to the meter in time to load him up avoid a ticket and head back down the 10 but not before some guy honks and says: "Dude" and you are wondering why he knows the dog and wow what a close knit downtown neighborhood where everyone knows each others dog's name but you realize he just was trying to get your attention to get your business card.<br /><br />You finish the spay for the lady whose Uncle took his last pleasure drive through your old rail fence and roses and shrubbery then the little Asian designer dog is resistant to pain meds howls while you are trying to examine two nice schnauzers but can't hear the owner let alone the soft heart murmur in one of her dogs and of course the digital xray machine is acting up slowing you down as Dude sits in the cage awaiting bone and plastic removal by gastrotomy since his digital rads confirm the bones and the schnauzer owner eschews Animal Planet to watch Lifetime on the front room TV and you pine for the old developer and fixer tanks the used to have for radiographs and you realize you have become your dad.<br /><br />Dude is spinning and Alex the tech is untangling<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVz0m0xJqvUTNCE2dwocNGJiyuMymgay064qQZMsCDe5Oa7hbgjlJxP4eAn-3IPjpV28GtTY32xkmJCNFjw_4mbVERbsCqJLmo8sGg1uEdB0tVHKHeFbVCiZP012758WsobYWuyiJYLX0/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVz0m0xJqvUTNCE2dwocNGJiyuMymgay064qQZMsCDe5Oa7hbgjlJxP4eAn-3IPjpV28GtTY32xkmJCNFjw_4mbVERbsCqJLmo8sGg1uEdB0tVHKHeFbVCiZP012758WsobYWuyiJYLX0/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568665335606965442" border="0" /></a> the IV tubing after you had removed a large handful of sharp junk and sewed him up six layers from the inside and the young lady is happy and now you just need to find out what is making Dude so bored to ingest everything and it must be he needs more exercise when on the phone she tells you that you must've dropped your credit card you needed for the parking meter up in her loft and you tell her you will retrieve it later tonight since you have yet another tearful goodbye in Studio City and can swing back through downtown after you grab some legendary Italian food to go on the way there to end your starvation cause you forgot to eat<br /><br />You enjoy meatballs and ravioli from heaven as you take the nighttime glance at your glowing red "W" once again and you wonder why it is so utterly common to go past the same route twice in a day and how odd ESPN radio is discussing how the Clippers are better that the Lakers right now and you say to yourself this all must be a dream and you drive down the 101 back to Broadway but this time it easy to park in the loading zone and get back your credit card in front of the nice lady lady who was so kind to roll out to the street and give it to you and you tell her Dude is doing well and you are heading back down the 10 to check on him<br /><br />Your surgery patient a cup of bones and plastic lighter has spun an IV tubing web around himself since the sedatives and pain meds must be given again and you clean the doo off the Dude including the mystery piece of is it doo or is it barf sticking to the e-collar and as you write up his orders for tomorrow and his return trip back to Broadway you ponder when you will get some more help to really make this thing go wide since there seems to be so many nice people with a hard time bringing in their pets for healthcare you wonder how many suffer unnecessarily and how many you pass by on your way to Studio City or La Crescenta or Canyon Country or Lakewood and you come HOME finally after 1AM to two dogs of your own who need a walk only to bark at that one guy riding his bike past your house with the yard with half a new rail fence and shrubbery that woefully mismatches the old established side grown in with lots of experience in your dirt.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-72171339875311781492011-01-18T01:23:00.000-08:002011-01-18T14:16:04.610-08:00this will cheer you up todayFirst some written humor:<br /><br /><br />Yesterday I was at my local COSTCO buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Biscuit, the Wonder Dog, and was in the checkout line when the woman behind me asked if I had a dog.<br /><br />What did she think I had, an elephant? So since I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.<br /><br />I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)<br /><br />Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff an Irish Setter's ass and a car hit us both.<br /><br />I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard.<br /><br />Costco won't let me shop there anymore.<br /><br />Better watch what you ask retired people! They have all the time in the world to think of crazy things to say.<br /><br />Now some <span style="font-weight:bold;">video humor</span> shared by my classmate, Dr. John Huebner:<br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3iFhLdWjqc. You will die laughing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3iFhLdWjqc"></a><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><br /><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X3iFhLdWjqc?fs=1&hl=en_US"><br /></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><br /></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X3iFhLdWjqc?fs=1&hl=en_US" <br />type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"><br /></embed></object>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-611544033155006962010-12-19T21:49:00.000-08:002010-12-19T22:00:19.490-08:00The Animal Will Set You FreeYou head out in pouring rain over the hill to the valley to release a cat from suffering. You were watching the climatic ending of a tense psycho horror film with your wife on date night until the service called. After-hours emergency. No one else in their right mind goes out Saturday at midnight to expedite the wishes of a pet owner who can finally no longer take the suffering of a beloved pet. The couple were at odds over the decision. The man tells you he grew up on a farm and suffering was not allowed for any of the critters. But this beloved cat was his wife's precious child. She was in chemotherapy herself. A survivor. Her beloved cat, Honey, you see, took the cancer from the woman. The cat was held to the woman's breast where Honey kissed her guardian. Honey took the cancer to her own mouth. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulu0mCeWTT6PYfaU-gw0kVwfbB14QoGtKaj2-y9p2dUFZW5-m-Aw-UQS-bh-x_Khyphenhyphen1ro7bRP7r0Qqhp4gyapwdprGBVfgRL2GB7aOIUVt0QwU3zqz_6weOoa1mYSDwHyHsL7kENfkwEo/s1600/lhasa.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulu0mCeWTT6PYfaU-gw0kVwfbB14QoGtKaj2-y9p2dUFZW5-m-Aw-UQS-bh-x_Khyphenhyphen1ro7bRP7r0Qqhp4gyapwdprGBVfgRL2GB7aOIUVt0QwU3zqz_6weOoa1mYSDwHyHsL7kENfkwEo/s200/lhasa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552640043716636770" border="0" /></a>And as the woman recovered the cat became worse. Honey's cancer spread to her eye. The woman's sister also became nurse to Honey and fed her by hand. Cleaned her face. Now Honey's eye is deformed or ruptured, you can't seem to tell which. It is clearly time. The man has suffered watching the progression of poor Honey. He was advocating euthanasia and would have done it himself if he could but, no, it was up to his wife. You surmise that maybe the sister is keeping the cat alive and advocating for the "natural" way of death so that the transfer of the cancer can become complete and free the other sister. Is this possible? You recall the stories of the Lhasa Apsos who allegedly took the disease from the lamas by being simply brought close to them. Delivered upon a plush pillow. But there lies the cat. And the man tells you about how his wife had to be calmed down from severe hyperventilation and brought to her sister's house. He tells you he has to be the strong one in the face of salary reduction at work. His new wife and new house of one year have become the stage for a tragedy. You ease Honey peacefully into her next life and the man is relieved. His journey to renewal has begun and his new year looks a bit brighter.<br /><br />The companion animal bond has hit a new dimension tonight<br /><br />You head back over the hill in the pouring rain and you think how lucky you are. Your wife your kids your health, reasonably.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-71940204935776731412010-12-01T00:34:00.000-08:002010-12-01T02:10:51.947-08:00Times are tough, DocI paid $200 for this story. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. I think people usually at least mean well. Especially with respect to the care of their beloved pets. We as veterinarians aspire to live up to the ultimate pet advocate and humanitarian attributes as is expected of us and we truly must be. Unfortunately, we are a business and cannot be for no profit unless run by a board of directors with disposable funds. We must maintain our overhead that is relentlessly increasing. But times are tough. I did not know how low a human being can go and still function.<br /><br />I was called to the North San Fernando Valley area midday this week for a cat in need of a pain shot. Or so the owner says. I have to prepare for a housecall by envisioning the coming scenario based on information obtained and experience with certain regions in the Greater Los Angeles Area that we serve. Let's just say this area was hit by the recession... the one <span style="font-style: italic;">prior</span> to the current recession and never recovered from that. The house was in decay. The stucco had separated from the withered door frame. There was a large yard with multiple random oldish vehicles. I peered across the street. <span style="font-style: italic;">That</span> house was boarded up. I knocked and heard rustling. I had called the owner a few minutes prior to alert her I had arrived. She said she was brushing her teeth and would be right out. A hefty Hispanic man in boxers showed me in. The house was well-lived in by a family of 5-6 as far as I could tell. The owner emerged with a toothbrush in her mouth from a "back room" that<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyLiefXaVHCwKKKlrC3umRZP3lM_okjCGRCzzFJS-h0wTh7Kq9lwnRn57m5fm6ZMWBnVcaIBKttJLgXB6pbq3pqiVyunHGJaGCmWJts7Z-pQUfQ84BWkKrHcIcqr2vsXgonFxbtlu3yA/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyLiefXaVHCwKKKlrC3umRZP3lM_okjCGRCzzFJS-h0wTh7Kq9lwnRn57m5fm6ZMWBnVcaIBKttJLgXB6pbq3pqiVyunHGJaGCmWJts7Z-pQUfQ84BWkKrHcIcqr2vsXgonFxbtlu3yA/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545653967408615346" border="0" /></a> appeared to be a service porch or closet (?). A kitten scampered out. Not the patient. She apologized for the delay and declared she broke a nail... and a tooth! just then. "Oh my, are you OK?" I asked. She assured me she was. The owner was an attractive woman but somehow looked a bit older and permanently exhausted. She led me into her closet-home in the back of the house. The back door that separates the closet from the yard was worn and unsecured. The closet had a bed, a TV, a dresser, a rack of clothes and a pile of clothes. In the closet of the closet was the patient. Supposedly 18 years old, the skinny gray shorthair had rapid breathing and was squeaky-laboured. One eye seemed more open than the other. His temp was low. His mouth...was rotten. So bad that his upper jaw was severely infected and eaten away. His tongue was severely ulcerated from the direct contact on that side. He was emaciated and dehydrated 10 percent. His cry was a cross between a baby wailing in the distance and a creaky rocking chair.<br /><br />She wanted a pain shot for him.<br /><br />I explained that her cat was is an inhumane condition and needs either to be hospitalized, stabilized and, if possible, operated on in order to save him or he must be put down. I told her what I could do there was limited. She could not afford treating the cat as explained. She also thought killing him was wrong. She denied any religious reason. Just thought it was wrong.<br /><br />The smell of closet-room was noticeably more foul since I opened the cat's mouth and got a nice whiff. I wanted to tell her she was living in an inhumane state as well. It was then she said she couldn't really pay us. Her boyfriend was going to give a credit card over the phone for any treatment. I gave her a long heart-to heart about how she needs to let the cat go and stop his suffering, but she wouldn't have it. She said that all the other vets said that, bu that's not what she wanted to hear. Her cat was her beloved. She wanted him to be out of pain. I told her anything I give is temporary, he really needs hospitalization, but his longevity and advanced shocky state is against him. She told me about her mom dying with little or no care in some home somewhere with cancer and no pain meds. She just wanted some for her kitty. In her attempt to show how much life was still in him, she opened a couple cans of food. The cat circled and seemed very interested but, alas, could not partake. He went on whine-creaking and stinking up the air. She went on to tell me the sad story of her life. She lost her 4 bedroom home and was held hostage for 5 days in her own house by crooks. "What?!" This is getting ridiculous I was thinking, when I kid you not, two gunshots go off in the backyard over the fence or VERY nearby. What was that?! It sounded like a .45... She corrected me and stated more like a .38 and then a 9mm. (I'm thinking: why do you know that?!) Her boyfriend was finally reached at work and she handed her disgustingly soiled cell phone to me to get his payment info which I texted to dispatch. I'm thinking. This is going to decline... Decline (dispatch texts me). Great I had been there an hour already and had another appointment back on the Westside. Oops, I discover. The boyfriend repeated the number and I was one digit off. Gave dispatch the correct number...Phew...DECLINED...!?!...At that point I just wanted to put the cat to sleep for free and get the hell outta there...She persists and wants me to treat him. Just get him out of his pain, Doc. Even for a little while. I AM HAVING TEXT WARS WITH DISPATCH over not pre-authorizing payment and for sending me to this forsaken land. All the while the owner is primping herself in the wall mirror(?!?) telling me how she lost everything, her car, she had to move into her boyfriend's house and then they eventually had to cram into the closet-room while he rented out the rest of the house to the family of six. Oh and then I notice there's also crippled dog out in the back. Her boyfriend told me over the phone (mine now, since hers had died or the minutes ran out, not sure which) that he could meet me in a few hours and pay cash. But that was not feasible. He could not come up with another credit card. Then he hung up or lost signal or was busted at work for talking on company time. I was so frustrated and felt so bad for the cat I finally agreed to give the cat a big shot of pain killer. Even as I was leaving, was she scrambling through her overflowing (with junk) dresser drawers in search of a valid, non-expired credit card. I had told her if her boyfriend wants to bring the cat to our clinic and some of the payment I would try and save the cat. But for how long? He was 18. She was a lost soul. Said she couldn't work cause she couldn't ever show up on time.(What?!?) Or do anything for that matter. I felt sorry for her and her cat and the whole neighborhood. I dodged some bullets and headed back over the hill to Civilization.<br /><br />My Westside appointment had two cats in need of workups and dental work. These folks were able to handle it and invest in the care of their pets. I hope the gray cat doesn't suffer much longer.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-46876916774552705922009-12-25T23:35:00.000-08:002009-12-25T23:40:28.093-08:00More on the H1N1 Swine Flu in Pets<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cn3XG3vSo60Lz2TLHgFFfNkNqLKsBEFb7Acobfjd8QPRbHxxEk5-KjLQqt_tWch0qxXpUepYJZTUb5KDaadQMKTjXfkjEkrndg3amJfIDnY-fV_oSIfb_WVluoXISH3lymU7O3ehWUw/s1600-h/swineflu.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cn3XG3vSo60Lz2TLHgFFfNkNqLKsBEFb7Acobfjd8QPRbHxxEk5-KjLQqt_tWch0qxXpUepYJZTUb5KDaadQMKTjXfkjEkrndg3amJfIDnY-fV_oSIfb_WVluoXISH3lymU7O3ehWUw/s200/swineflu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419445866012200946" border="0" /></a><br />There have been several confirmed cases of H1N1swine flu infection in domestic dogs and cats. The latest case was found in Los Angeles by a local veterinarian just 4 days ago. All of these animals have appeared to have acquired the disease from an infected human being. The symptoms are much the same as seen in the human involving the respiratory tract. Sneezing, nasal dischage, coughing, weakness and fever are usually present. Nationwide, there have been several reported cases in animals, including cats, ferrets, turkeys, swine, a cheetah, and most recently a dog in New York. Elsewhere in the world, the virus has been detected in swine, turkeys and dogs (2 in China). While transmission of this virus to animals appears to be rare, it is still important for individuals with influenza-like illness to take precautions which will minimize spread of the virus to both humans and animals.<br /><br />People can keep their pets healthy by washing their hands, covering their coughs and sneezes, and minimizing their contact with their pets when they are ill. If a pet becomes ill, they should consult their veterinarian.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-1157934935455201882009-12-16T12:50:00.000-08:002009-12-16T13:38:35.198-08:00Pet Hoarding on the RiseA rash of hoarding discoveries has hit the news this month that has left authorities pondering the cause. Whether it be a dog breeder out of control or simply a kind soul with good intentions feeding the ever-growing population of wild domestic pets. Is it a sign of the times? Should a pet "hoarder" in Oregon face charges for feeding wild dogs who come to eat their cattle? 100 dogs were found by Oregon authorities last week and the farm owners were charged with animal cruelty. <p>Another hoarder/breeder was found to have 100 chihuahuas living and 150 dead in his home. It appears he is fit for trial. Since he methodically selected for the best in breed by euthanizing the ones he didn't want and in some cases feeding them to the fittest dogs.<br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0auEzy4Iz8Zw9nhyphenhyphenIh2KcdDRGfJ3RVWcAAwD5ANhKGqhfsk7IBNlZ50MxL7Xn96epXZeC4L-2IdEgU862N0xfakbeV4WvkkyO9BZ41-p6u-gyDqblejQE26cD6sgbEsa2ga0iy41Ln4/s1600-h/Photo_121207_001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0auEzy4Iz8Zw9nhyphenhyphenIh2KcdDRGfJ3RVWcAAwD5ANhKGqhfsk7IBNlZ50MxL7Xn96epXZeC4L-2IdEgU862N0xfakbeV4WvkkyO9BZ41-p6u-gyDqblejQE26cD6sgbEsa2ga0iy41Ln4/s200/Photo_121207_001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415950268003557234" border="0" /></a>I do believe there is a mental illness involved in hoarding. I have witnessed my own late cousin, who did not have nor could afford a pet, severely disabled by the need to save every single piece of paper, magazine, receipt, file, book, record, notebook, old equipment, clothing, photos, thousands of VHS tapes, piles and piles of boxes. This is all in a 10 x 20 foot room.</p><p>As for pet collectors I have witnessed a few. Usually these people are very intelligent. They are more than willing to sacrifice cleanliness and sanitary conditions to house a multitude of pets. They are of the rescuer archetype, as am I. They believe strongly in caring for these animals and will do anything for them. It is difficult to turn away a creature that needs help. The person has an inner loss. The person was not rescued. The person was abandoned. The person is needed for this higher purpose. Death of an animal in their care is devastating. But death is a part of life. And a good life, shelter and food was given to this pet. </p><p></p><p>I do have very many clients with multiple pets who may be pushing the legal limit but manage to maintain sanitary humane conditions for all. These folks seem to have a grounded sense of practicality and are releastic in their ability to maintain the herd.</p><p>Yes I have anonymously reported a client for what I felt was inhumane and dangerous conditions. Well I guess not too anonymous now.</p><p>I always like to use a rule of thumb that seems to work in the field. 1 pet per 400 square feet.<br /></p>Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-50227796234871420112009-10-23T08:51:00.000-07:002009-10-24T02:03:37.841-07:00Inhumane Pet and Owner Living SituationEvery so often I come to a home to help a pet and end up wanting to help the human. Last week I visited an elderly woman in her 80's living in a small, albeit hip, Hollywood apartment. She was very hard of hearing and had poor vision, but was able to get around. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHID9t518mjfxK77iomg14_eUW35Xfjhgy5XfjAFdkto9IoaM21ssv8g-XEV4I4B-cN_C7JAXJoGZvtdfujQuu5MiQB-g69ewLTrSd3Q9SCRd_oN04CgUhYybBxcPC9osBHcxeaWJwap8/s1600-h/IMG_0306.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHID9t518mjfxK77iomg14_eUW35Xfjhgy5XfjAFdkto9IoaM21ssv8g-XEV4I4B-cN_C7JAXJoGZvtdfujQuu5MiQB-g69ewLTrSd3Q9SCRd_oN04CgUhYybBxcPC9osBHcxeaWJwap8/s200/IMG_0306.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395829503580018354" border="0" /></a>I walk through the door and nearly had projectile vomit from the smell. The cat Tootles, was walled off behind a flimsy sliding door to the kitchen. There was literally feces everywhere. There was evidence that the cat had chronic diarrhea and was defecating under a counter, behind furniture and every other corner. I stepped around it and took a history. The woman was self-educated in holistic medicine and had self-prescribed a multitude of supplements that she takes along with a battery of pet products. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjMco19tKEze7ogjOh2dM9d_4vmq-JDjSILARJ7qQd_oynnBP8NEZFlCMug-NlbA02FJuAorhfnVSMzKxnoUocOgGWpLA6NfCTkh5kIY_8jy3aW66Dxkck-aHMEZrALSlh7dP-oESBBk/s1600-h/IMG_0304.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjMco19tKEze7ogjOh2dM9d_4vmq-JDjSILARJ7qQd_oynnBP8NEZFlCMug-NlbA02FJuAorhfnVSMzKxnoUocOgGWpLA6NfCTkh5kIY_8jy3aW66Dxkck-aHMEZrALSlh7dP-oESBBk/s200/IMG_0304.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395829251097952690" border="0" /></a>Her diet consisted of different "natural" pet foods including Wellness. I have seen diarrhea in cats on Wellness alone, but there were so many things going into the poor skinny cat's body it was hard to determine the cause.<br /><br />I had to repeatedly exit the apartment to breathe and collect my wits. Part of me wanted to run and not come back. The other tenants seemed to know all about the crazy old cat lady but just accepted her. They must've remodeled the place around her. She claimed there was new carpet, but it still should be ripped out and replaced. The most confounding thing was the difficulty communicating with her. I had to shout into her ear. She was not stupid or even very senile. She was adamant about givng the cat supplements and assumed the problem was behavioral. She had a bevy of litterpans, some of which appeared to be aluminum pans (usually distateful to cats) and very little litter. She had stretched handle grocery plastic bags as litter liners. Not too comfortable. I finally got her to agree to run some tests on the cat who had rotten teeth, a poor coat and was underweight. Below is the actual letter I had to snail mail her (no email of course)<br /><br />Dear Ms. Edwards (name changed):<br />The lab tests for Tootles (name changed) are in. The only abnormalities are an increase in muscle enzyme. The source is either the heart, the skeletal muscles or the stomach. It is possible there is heart disease. Further tests would be needed to determine this. She was negative for cat viruses and parasites. As far as her constant diarrhea and inappropriate defecation: I am very concerned that the multiple supplements you are giving are causing diarrhea. The food or any treats may also be causing chronic diarrhea. In any case my assessment of the cat is there is a chronic wasting disease or malnutrition. Here rear teeth are rotten and need extraction. This makes it difficult to eat. In addition, the manner in which you keep the cat box with plastic bags tightly lining the pan makes them unattractive and uncomfortable to cats. Small wonder she is pooping everywhere else.<br /><br />I hope you can read, or have this read to you and understand up to this point. My recommendations to you are as follows:<br /><br />I am very concerned about your living conditions. They are currently unhealthy and dangerous to your health and to your cat. In the interest of both of your health and safety, I recommend:<br />Board Tootles at the hospital and have her teeth extracted and given a controlled meal. If further diagnostics are warranted, it can be discussed. You yourself should temporarily stay at a hotel for a few days while your home is cleaned, disinfected with the possibility of installing a hard floor. Pergo is sturdy and relatively inexpensive.<br /><br />Stop all supplements given to the cat. They are not helping and may be hurting, especially the high dose of vitamin C you’ve been giving. Digestive enzymes are not needed for unless there is a diagnosis determined by a veterinarian of pancreatic insufficiency.<br /><br />The cat should be on a single type of food that is easily digested. Once the place is clean and the cat has recovered from the dental work and has shown normal stools, she can return to the home. First, she should have a large litter box filled with clumping litter. The liners are unnecessary and may hinder the cat’s desire to use the box. Get a plastic litter box. The aluminum pans are not well tolerated by cats. In fact we use aluminum foil as a deterrent for cat. Place the one litterbox in a quiet area (not the bathroom) perhaps in her “safe” area in which she has been defecating.<br /><br />I am very sorry for the sad situation that you and Tootles find yourselves. I hope we can help. Please let us know.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Dr. Steve Weinberg<br />911 VETS Home Pet Medical<br />1-866-491-1838<br /><br />PS. I was able to speak to her about the letter and found her to be in complete denial and that the cat is improving. She wants to keep giving supplements and doesn't think the pans are a problem. My next step is to contact Social Services. Extremely frustrating situation that demonstrates again that the clinic veterinarian is handicapped by the inability to witness the living situation of the pet and owner and is probably fooled by the information given. But the housecall vet must get personally involved to help the pet and owner.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-28081372614993612912009-07-28T10:47:00.000-07:002009-07-28T11:09:54.965-07:00The Situation of the Guard Dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTs_UajAIGlWrgsfKn2dLcsqMuKopzNytLUwjeNUJ4V-8etCT512kypcVLVJFgfAUhHL4BZzgDkbggqRij4pn7hTjl1-w2i6CS_bnLbxF51ILciNe8dRx1J6JvuJXiAQxNqGwtgv8Wzc/s1600-h/guarddog2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTs_UajAIGlWrgsfKn2dLcsqMuKopzNytLUwjeNUJ4V-8etCT512kypcVLVJFgfAUhHL4BZzgDkbggqRij4pn7hTjl1-w2i6CS_bnLbxF51ILciNe8dRx1J6JvuJXiAQxNqGwtgv8Wzc/s200/guarddog2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363574377721909666" border="0" /></a>Here is an actual letter sent to the owner of a home guard dog that was visited and treated. Note the extreme advantage of a house call for such a pet where the whole situation can be evaluated.<br />The names were changed to protect all<br /><br />"Belmont" 10yr Staffordshire Terrier Male<br /><br />Diagnosis: severe, deforming pinnal fly-strike dermatoses<br /><br />I visit many homes with the situation of the outdoor guard dog. He is usually penned in on the property and has little interaction with the human family. Some family members are afraid of him because he is strong and intimidating. But he is actually starving for attention. He only wants to be part of the pack. That's how dogs view their family. When they are isolated away from the humans in the pack they become destructive to property or to themselves. Since these guard dogs live outside one can lose track of their living quarters. Feces and rotten stuff can accumulate and attract flies. For some reason, flies also like to bite the top of the dog's ears. They land and open him up for other flies to dine. Flies will also attack pressure points that have opened and bled. These happen when dogs lie primarily on hard concrete. Unfortunately, when they are supplied with a doggie bed, they usually destroy it out of anxiety. So time goes on and the dog gets little exercise and persists in isolation barking at whomever or whatever comes near; like a good dog. The flies continue to attack into the thick of the hot summer and slowly cause the cartilage of the ears to scar and deform. A secondary bacterial infection occurs and thick crusts that include fly feces build up on the ears and the pressure points.<br /><br />So we've addressed a few things for Belmont<br />1. The wounds were cleaned<br />2. Fly repellant antiseptic ointment is applied, but better, we<br />3. Moved Belmont to the side gated area away from the flies and more shade. White dogs need more cover from the sun since they are prone to squamous cell carcinoma skin cancer of the ears, nose, etc. The muddy dog house area is not so great.<br />4. Treating with antibiotics for the secondary infection<br />5. Showed owner's girlfriend not to be afraid and how to walk Belmont in the neighborhood. Use a good pinch collar. It won't damage him, just get his attention<br /><br />Things to consider:<br /><br />1. More socialization with the family. Is he allowed inside? He would love it.<br />2. Consider (I know, gasp) having him neutered. Why? The typically problematic male traits should be reduced: pissing on everything, aggression toward other male dogs and possibly small children, and of course, prostate cancer later in life.<br />3. Get more fly ointment and treat for fleas. I recommend Comfortis. We can order it for you, it's prescription only.<br />4. Walk him daily and you'll gain great upper body and leg strength.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Dr. Steve Weinberg<br />911 VETS Home Pet MedicalDr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-32446579814224294962009-07-25T00:11:00.000-07:002009-07-25T21:25:40.141-07:00Fleas Finally Gone PackingAfter weeks of misery, the fleas has finally left the building. Itchy bleeding scabs on the body of me and my children have finally healed leaving barely a scar. The dogs are now only scratching at their Standard Poodle ears: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGXllEoNwY5R4UwTIPDb3LlAbMJbyPOI_3U3YfDIMmQ77m4lM_Y9hoMOBH6-9EnerZ9DMAZTVuNyhnLYQbPNK969qEYrX9mwDBoVeg1pyaniHm2PjyzqS9_7sksWOVJfOv6zpO9s6GBw/s1600-h/rupie.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGXllEoNwY5R4UwTIPDb3LlAbMJbyPOI_3U3YfDIMmQ77m4lM_Y9hoMOBH6-9EnerZ9DMAZTVuNyhnLYQbPNK969qEYrX9mwDBoVeg1pyaniHm2PjyzqS9_7sksWOVJfOv6zpO9s6GBw/s200/rupie.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362614880576395618" border="0" /></a>a constant source of yeasty aggravation requiring weekly flushing, plucking and medicating. Our Hero? An oral medication called <a href="http://www.comfortis4dogs.com/comfortis-product/">Comfortis</a>. Every few years a new killer anti-flea product comes on the scene and becomes the latest annihilator of the dreaded insect. It all is extremely effective until the medication seems to "lose power". This is followed by the discovery of live, biting fleas roaming the poor pet. Classic re-infestation. The new med is not working anymore. I have seen resistance to Frontline, Advantage and Program. This new oral med has promise and has worked so far with Garbo and Rupie (pictured).<br /><br />The place was sprayed madly with the only product I found to work: Vet-Kem Siphotrol plus Premise spray (we can get you a good deal). I had to spray my vehicle since my ankles were attacked while I WAS DRIVING?! It makes for a difficult drive when you are constantly picking at small brown objects on your legs. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyoQXeXp9JpYWDPjzFBAKoe3KWau67BjA-i5UG65IJuArKQ2IjF3mUZ-MGIJLNhUSXWl0MookeotN348kioPkpYEv-6-z2dcPc4mb22zshsI2jJ4CRxw6PoDMyMrk8UxpAnaQVG0xJ04/s1600-h/siphotrol.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 43px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyoQXeXp9JpYWDPjzFBAKoe3KWau67BjA-i5UG65IJuArKQ2IjF3mUZ-MGIJLNhUSXWl0MookeotN348kioPkpYEv-6-z2dcPc4mb22zshsI2jJ4CRxw6PoDMyMrk8UxpAnaQVG0xJ04/s200/siphotrol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362617662731338658" border="0" /></a>The Vet-Kem did the trick after several applications. I used 4 cans between the home and the cars. You have to spray the carpets, the corners of the room, the couches including under the cushions. Move the bed and spray beneath. Strip the mattress and stand it on end. Spray both sides of the mattress. Spray and wash all pet beds. Spray the dog house (with dog removed). Consider using Vet-Kem yard spray. I found if you skrimp on the spraying, the fleas that have not been eradicated will return with a vengeance. Hateful little creatures.<br /><br />Well anyway, they seem to be gone for the time being. That is, until the Comfortis is no longer effective and we have to use the next generation of cold-hearted flea killaz!Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-22012348776726467922009-06-14T00:34:00.000-07:002009-06-14T01:51:02.740-07:00Fleas Still on AttackDay 10: it's madness here in this house. They are biting us all over. The children are scratching themselves to bleed. I keep fighting the little buggers. We spray and double apply Advantage and they keep coming.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WJEfKk_hjVmiNKOZArcpg1rgiZuYnoJtvtQBOpU73qfeQDwTnngnJ-s02j9EYb2H16XikfsBoML2FZHeoZ57PlWxNPtk2Pe7tZmno9TIMi96MkL0B5stw15hjSezI7z320Ky7MwGWzg/s1600-h/garbo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WJEfKk_hjVmiNKOZArcpg1rgiZuYnoJtvtQBOpU73qfeQDwTnngnJ-s02j9EYb2H16XikfsBoML2FZHeoZ57PlWxNPtk2Pe7tZmno9TIMi96MkL0B5stw15hjSezI7z320Ky7MwGWzg/s200/garbo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347089386005406786" border="0" /></a> I keep finding them on myself when in the car (which I bombed), when in my bedroom (which was bombed...twice). Okay. So in the interim we acquired another canine host: Garbo. A 9 year old Standard Poodle, white. She is very sweet, and susceptible to skin allergy and infection (secondary to flea bites). Oh and she also has an E. Coli urinary tract infection. That's under control with Baytril. Anyway we now all have to get out and torch this house to end the insanity. Every twitch an imagined flea is biting into my leg, my back, belly. Is that a FLEA on me, or a mole???? Oh crap, I ripped off a mole, no... it IS a flea!<br />Am I going insane? Why can't a vet control a simple flea infestation??? Why? Because these are the aforementioned NUCLEAR fleas. They have spent many generations living at the grooming parlor perfecting their invincibility through constant bombardment with a myriad of insecticides, shampoos, harsh chemicals and emerged a NEW SUBSPECIES capable of exponentially multiplying, infesting the house while dining on the human and canine inhabitants therein. These mutant bloodsuckers brush off harmless chemicals, like Advantage and Siphotrol, laughing and munching as they go. These little bastards who are biting the living hell out of my family originally smuggled themselves here upon my unsuspecting male Standard, Ruprecht. He must have brushed against an infested dog there, or from the cracks of the dark, damp holding kennels and cages of the grooming parlor. I must descend on them with mighty fury a camera crew and fix them...In any case we need to vacate. I'm going to use Borate powder to desiccate the fleas in the carpets, yet the couches and beds are infested. I might call a company like Terminix [visited site] Ah yes <a href="http://www.terminix.com/Information/PestLibrary/Biting_Insects/Cat_Flea/default.aspx">this is what</a> we are dealing with: I captured one and it appears it is the cat flea (More viscous to pets and people). It is darker and smaller than the less hearty dog flea.<br /><br />Time for the big guns. Moral again: Check pet for fleas with careful inspection using a flea comb before leaving any grooming, boarding facility, veterinary hospital. Use a verifiably effective flea product for all pets. Check for fleas regularly.Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-81310106233085415422009-06-02T00:18:00.000-07:002009-06-02T23:30:57.285-07:00Home Infested with Fleas due to GroomerYes, I have become a victim of flea infestation. You see, our white Standard Poodle, Ruprecht, gets groomed every five weeks. I usually use Advantage on him to control fleas. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAElmSb7vwUmEX3d2g8bTTIzrRzqXbvT4QtjeCMEYZR9LJAfCDaE2HWw8gXGTM52n_lATTS9CiZ3Bpu7gAV-cOEzPnuy1Mz6mFnxMGUgKdIYg2uLQ8hB2G11Mh8dHSAXZ8eoSDNzL6nA/s1600-h/rupie2.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAElmSb7vwUmEX3d2g8bTTIzrRzqXbvT4QtjeCMEYZR9LJAfCDaE2HWw8gXGTM52n_lATTS9CiZ3Bpu7gAV-cOEzPnuy1Mz6mFnxMGUgKdIYg2uLQ8hB2G11Mh8dHSAXZ8eoSDNzL6nA/s200/rupie2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342984194276580034" border="0" /></a>The directions say to apply once a month. So the Advantage was running out of power and the dog had to be groomed. Now this groomer has been hit or miss with his haircuts. It was always kind of a mystery as to what he would look like. This time he received a very close cut. And it was uneven. We immediately noticed that Rupie was restless. We chalked it up to a bad, close haircut. I noticed his skin was redder than usual. He was running back and forth through the house. He is normally a nervous, active guy so we didn't think much of it. Now a veterinarian's pet is supposed to be exempt from problems, right? Wrong. Upon closer examination, spread his tight curly coat, he was TEAMING WITH FLEAS. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z932nF6FwQfs9vsYAb8r-9SZiMkrBlR7jY4AHR383GG0P_ot2uwpNGlOCGRnTnT_ZLb2E6l4BHH6mlsDRhjn37zrw0OprDprAdPdRJUJUexriLmI82lvD3C3OJbqJNZRc_mZA58EnLE/s1600-h/IMG_0008.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z932nF6FwQfs9vsYAb8r-9SZiMkrBlR7jY4AHR383GG0P_ot2uwpNGlOCGRnTnT_ZLb2E6l4BHH6mlsDRhjn37zrw0OprDprAdPdRJUJUexriLmI82lvD3C3OJbqJNZRc_mZA58EnLE/s200/IMG_0008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342629237989087890" border="0" /></a>Now these fleas are of the nuclear survivor variety. Fleas acquired from a grooming parlor are those who have survived the harshest flea shampoo. They have survived Advantage, Frontline and Revolution. These are angry fleas looking to set up shop in some poor, unsuspecting veterinarian's house will have a field day. This is because that vet will be in such a state of denial that his pet could have any problems he can't fix, or prevent. How dare fleas attack my dog?? I'm a vet.<br /><br />By the time we noticed this infestation, it was too late. The house was overcome with these nasty little bugs. They were chewing up my kids in their own beds. See we have hardwood floors, but there are several throw rugs that are happy homes for these nuclear fleas. I immediately applied Advantage to Rupie and watched them succumb. They were dying and moving to his head and tail like passengers of the Titanic leaping off both ends of the ship. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQE99ViIvJs4F1AjG0QYS2xyEBp4jaKNtgqbqeZEruaDPFtJWax8V3abxfUsam-WqWbDTlia0r70Hds7DneHiBdhNiGfWPyaPu-U1i3FYE_8r55tOMX1TAs5_ib7OqOZKyEj3qVF8sac/s1600-h/IMG_0003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQE99ViIvJs4F1AjG0QYS2xyEBp4jaKNtgqbqeZEruaDPFtJWax8V3abxfUsam-WqWbDTlia0r70Hds7DneHiBdhNiGfWPyaPu-U1i3FYE_8r55tOMX1TAs5_ib7OqOZKyEj3qVF8sac/s200/IMG_0003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342629238074026674" border="0" /></a>The nuclear survivors were mad and looking for their next meal. Unfortunately we were the main course. Although the dog was now safe, we had to act fast(actually too late). My wife bought a "natural" spray to "kill" the fleas. We sprayed everywhere and although there was a nice scent, the fleas simply laughed and continued on their merry way. I have ordered Vet Kem Siphotrol, a product I know (and hope it still) works. It's actually good for ants, as I recall. I hope our counter-barrage is successful.<br /><br />The moral of the story: ALWAYS check your pet for fleas before you leave the grooming parlor. If there are fleas, demand another bath, or apply a topical flea med from your vet (not Hartz, or other over-the-counter cheap solution - it is usually toxic to the pet). It's gonna be a long, hot summer. Use flea preventatives now. You can order directly from our <a href="http://911vets.vetstorerx.com/">vetstore</a>. Don't allow the nuclear grooming parlor fleas set up their camp in your home. I was in denial.<br /><br />Update: We stripped every bed and couch and sprayed the Siphotrol everywhere. We then aired it out. Tonight, my son had a flea jump on him and jump away. Another survivor...Dr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8950238183421915484.post-15928719486415291712009-05-21T17:15:00.000-07:002009-05-21T21:49:07.894-07:00Michael Vick Released to RepentWeighing in on a popular, or trendy topic is not my usual angle, but this one is noteworthy to me on a personal level. Having witnessed animal atrocities inflicted by humans in foreign countries it seems appalling that animal cruelty still thrives in the underground in this country. I remember a stunning film that had dog-fighting as backdrop in Amorres Perros to illustrate the commonplace cruelty in third world nations.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw8bFvEeYuzFAF9TOGSYWtahUM8VhBXbMf1oH2hWChkoYaO_Th3NUtN5PSxZ-1Uy35_DptbR1Jf9Hrp21K6qurg2KJ33y8ZqUOtGyQrQAocwwA315iiiIdZzY_8OOrptXnQANIunaFfU/s1600-h/bites.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw8bFvEeYuzFAF9TOGSYWtahUM8VhBXbMf1oH2hWChkoYaO_Th3NUtN5PSxZ-1Uy35_DptbR1Jf9Hrp21K6qurg2KJ33y8ZqUOtGyQrQAocwwA315iiiIdZzY_8OOrptXnQANIunaFfU/s200/bites.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338505439983868946" border="0" /></a><br />The Vick case only brings to forefront a cruel, baseless "sport" of dog-fighting as a means of gambling on the damage done by one beast to another. It does seem a bit of a double standard when well-intention humans exhibit gladiator-style cagefighting on cable TV, but animals should not be subject to purposeful engagement of their natural tendencies to fight. Pit Bulls, in particular are not apt to stop at submission. The best thing that Michael Vick can do is become an advocate for the cause to stop dog-fighting as a sport. He should publically speak out against his atrocities and turn the tide against this cruelty. As a sports figure he would stand out as a role model for enlightenment and help bring an end to the practice...at least in this country. Please see the <a href="https://community.hsus.org/humane/notice-description.tcl?newsletter_id=33627965">Human Society</a> for further informationDr. Steve Weinberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11269428469555526942noreply@blogger.com0