Author: Glenn Kalick

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A Dachshund and a social media mishap

I have a love-hate relationship with social media. I love keeping up with the lives of my friends and family, Amazon and I are family now, and I do look at reviews of restaurants before I decide to try a new one. But the people of Colorado take it to the next level. I live in Colorado part of the year, and they literally will sell a container of protein powder with one scoop missing and someone buys it. I saw someone purchase a used toilet plunger the other day.

To acclimate myself to my new neighborhood, I joined the local community Facebook group. I see a lot of the same issues as I see in Florida: The community pool is too cold, the community pool is too hot, and nonstop talk about swim diapers. I need a few items that some people like to sell or give away, so I spend a little too much time on the Facebook group. One day, a person put out a question about her Dachshund rubbing her nose excessively on the lawn and whether anyone else had that problem.

I read responses describing pets with environmental allergies to grasses, weeds, and trees, to one woman who proclaimed that she was a 50-year Dachshund owner/expert and sent a link about the history of Dachshunds being burrowing animals. One person sent a link about the types of mites found in the lawns and how they could irritate a dog, especially one so low to the ground.

After about an hour, the owner of the Dachshund posted that her dog was starting to scratch her ears and lick her paws excessively. Within a minute she had comments and links to shampoos, lotions, and Benadryl doses for dogs. I was hoping that with the posts, she was going to call her veterinarian or bring the dog to the hospital if the Dachshund was that uncomfortable. In the following half-hour, there were more than 30 responses from neighbors, each one blaming something that could be easily treated with a home remedy. At the hour mark, the owner wrote that the dog was starting to look puffy, and she was very uncomfortable. Before I could even comment, there were a dozen comments about doubling the dose of Benadryl, ice packs, cold baths, and one person even talked about rubbing steroid cream on the muzzle.

I decided to private-message the owner. I explained to her that I am a veterinarian and asked her to send me a picture of her dog, Sadie. The Dachshund’s muzzle and head were huge — at least twice the size of normal. I asked her to take a picture of the inside of her lips, and I could see the spot where Sadie had been bitten by a bee or wasp, and I noticed that her tongue was slightly blue, a clear sign of cyanosis. I told her to go immediately to her veterinarian because Sadie was having an anaphylactic reaction.

At the veterinary hospital, they gave her intravenous steroids, along with IV fluids, and put her in an oxygen cage because her oxygen saturation was low. Sadie did great, and she was discharged later in the day. When I saw that the owner of Sadie posted later in the night, I was hoping that she would post that you should call your veterinarian first because sometimes the speed of treatment can be essential to treatment, but she didn’t. She thanked me personally and told the Facebook group that a new veterinarian had moved into the area and that he really helped her.

So much for staying anonymous.

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A canine (human) intervention

I have a friend who will remain anonymous. She has read my articles for the past 20 years and had already declared last month’s conversation as article worthy. Literally, she gave me the look like, “You are going to use this as an article,” not as a question but as a statement. With a wink, I told her that this is not the first time I have used her cute-isms, as my wife and l like to call them, as inspirations for an article.

My wife and I have known “L” and her family for a long time. Our kids have grown up together and we view them as family. L looks at the world differently. She is a teacher and a mother and takes care of everyone around her. When her kids or her dog Mello have an issue, she has them diagnosed and treated like a protective mother might, but she also has the tendency to forget about herself.

L has a family history of high blood pressure and heart disease. She hadn’t seen a doctor in years, and at her last physical she was informed that her physician wanted her to see a cardiologist to work up her high blood pressure and new heart murmur. L’s husband called to tell me the news that L vehemently did not want to be discussed with anyone. She told her husband that her physician is an alarmist and came up with a hundred excuses, from caffeine to stress to weight gain, for why her blood pressure was elevated.

L is an amazing pet owner. Mello has been to my hospital for ACL surgery, tumor removals, emergency dental abscesses, and even once he ate those toxic crayons that the babysitter brought over. If there was a problem with Mello, it was addressed quickly and without question.

Mello was in the hospital for a bath and his biannual examination days after I had talked to L’s husband. It was a weekly routine. L picked up Mello after work. She bought herself a medium iced coffee at the coffee shop and brought me one as well. I asked my receptionist to put L in an examination room.

I walked in and told L that during my examination of Mello, I found a new heart murmur. I told her that I had never heard one before in Mello. I also told her that I ran some bloodwork and checked his blood pressure. L repeatedly shook her head and was notably concerned. She wanted to know if I had any results, and I told her that the bloodwork results would be in tomorrow, and his blood pressure was elevated.

L wanted to know if I needed to do an EKG or take chest X-rays, and I told her that I would feel better if she went to the cardiologist because they are the experts, and if there is a problem then they usually recommend an echocardiogram. L took out her notebook to write down the cardiologist’s name and number. She told me that nothing could happen to Mello. He is so important to the family and losing him only midway through what she considered his life expectancy would be devastating.

I looked at her and gave her a hug. I told her that Mello was fine. He was perfect. L was confused. I told her that I had just talked to her husband, and he told me about her heart murmur and high blood pressure. I told her that she should attack her issues with the passion she had for Mello, because her family, students, and friends could not bear losing her midway through her life expectancy.

L was actually more relieved about Mello than angry with me for having the intervention. She walked out of the examination room smiling but telling me that turning 50 sucks.

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The saga of the territorial cat

I get it. Cats, if they have a preference, like to be outside. Especially if they have previously had an outdoor experience and enjoyed it. Many indoor cats that sleep all day along windowpanes or in front of glass doors are very content looking at the outside world, and if they are stimulated with indoor playtime, they are perfectly content living in the house. Now I have some clients who have rescued outdoor cats, and some of those cats will do just about anything to get outside. This story is about one of those cats, named Jessie.

To say that I have worked on Jessie is an understatement. I have seen Jessie for a myriad of injuries. To this date, I have surgically placed drains in Jessie three times for abscesses. I have seen Jessie twice for bite wounds that did not require surgical drains. I have had to remove a broken tooth and have had to surgically remove a foreign body out of her intestines, and we have no idea how she lost the tip of her ear. She is a hunter. Like most cats, she brutally hunted the birds in her territory. These cats also hunt rodents and iguanas, and they get into fights with other cats in the neighborhood.

My client felt that he watched Jessie most of the day. He had set up remote cameras in the backyard to watch Jessie, and when he got home from work, he fed her in the house and closed the door, so she stayed inside at night. When I asked him why he couldn’t keep her in the house during the day, he showed me a picture of all the furniture that she had destroyed when she couldn’t get outside during the day. Ironically, she didn’t destroy furniture at night and slept after dinner until he ritually allowed her out at 8 a.m. before he went to work. He must have gotten up on the weekends when he was not going to work to let her outside. I guess her routine trumped his weekend routine.

One day the owner sent me a video of a fight between Jessie and another cat. Jessie was asleep on the patio and another cat hopped the fence. Jessie went into attack mode. Typically, after seeing how fast and aggressive Jessie was, a cat would run away, but this cat didn’t, and the fight was quick and brutal. This episode resulted in Jessie’s last surgery. There was an abscess over her neck and bite wounds on her face and feet. Jessie spent the next two days in the hospital getting pain medication and antibiotics.

We watched the video over and over. The owner just could not understand how the fight had occurred. He had installed a six-foot privacy fence. His last fence was a four-foot chain-link fence with hedges. He also had cameras installed. He even had a funny sign put on the fence about his attack cat. He could not understand why another cat would jump the fence. I had to bite my lip not to sound condescending, and my technician had to leave the room. I explained to the owner that the privacy fence, signage, and cameras were there to designate his property lines to the world. The invading cat’s territory was probably the whole street, and he probably found the new fence annoying. The owner asked me what he could do, and I told him to keep Jessie inside, because the next fight could end up being her last one.

One year later, Jessie is a couch cat and sleeps most of the day happily on the furniture.

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Kindred spirit at the dog park

I was such a cheerleader from the sidelines. Usually in a conversation, I am the one who is defending animal rights or educating people about them, but recently I observed my kindred spirit. I live part of the year in Colorado, and going to the dog park when the temperatures are below freezing is not an activity I typically partake in, but recently we had a nice surprise. The temperatures were in the high 50s, so I went with my daughter and her dog to the local dog park. Now Coloradans don’t care what the temperature is. They will go to the dog park if it is 5 degrees below zero.

So on this day, the dog park was busy. I believe that everyone in Colorado has more than one dog. I could overhear a man and a woman talking passionately about something related to the man’s sick dog. It obviously had nothing to do with the malamute that he was throwing the ball to. That dog was running at full speed, not caring what was between him and the ball, as he was completely focused on getting that ball and preventing other dogs from touching it. What I could hear was that his puppy Monty was in the local animal hospital fighting for his life with parvovirus.

Parvovirus is a killer. If a puppy gets it, there is a 50/50 chance of its survival, even if it gets the best care at the best hospital. Parvovirus targets rapidly dividing cells in the body such as the gastrointestinal (GI) tract and the bone marrow, so the puppy will have explosive diarrhea and vomiting. The integrity of its GI tract will be compromised, allowing bacteria to enter the bloodstream, and because the bone marrow is also affected, the puppy won’t have the ability to fight off the infection. Most people will never know a puppy is affected by parvo, because veterinarians vaccinate all puppies four times starting when they are 2 months old, and they are typically revaccinated again at a year old, then every three years.

I did hear the woman in the conversation ask the man if he had had his puppy vaccinated, and he said he doesn’t “do vaccines anymore.” He didn’t get COVID vaccinated, he doesn’t get flu shots, and he won’t get the shingles vaccine no matter how much his doctor and girlfriend ask him to. The woman asked if the malamute, named Aspen, was vaccinated and he said that he was, but he is not going to do it anymore. The woman then told the man that parvovirus is incredibly contagious and typically transmitted through the stool to other dogs. She told him that Aspen is probably doing so well because he was vaccinated, and if his puppy was positive for parvovirus last week, most likely he was passing parvovirus in his stool. Therefore, if he defecated at the park, he could infect young dogs not fully vaccinated.

The man was getting uncomfortable as others were joining the conversation. People in Colorado are uber-protective of their pets. That dog park had regulars, and they were not happy that someone had potentially brought an infectious disease to their dog park. The man stopped throwing the ball and started to walk toward his car. I must have looked empathetic to him because he muttered to me to “watch out for the Fauci liberals over there.” I was about to educate him about infectious disease when my daughter grabbed my arm and gave me the look, “Not today.”

Ironically, Colorado was not a mask-happy-wearing state, but if COVID affected dogs, believe me, you would see dogs in designer masks. Please don’t bring unvaccinated puppies to dog parks.

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Poodle patient: bruised no more

“My mom is going to kill me,” said my young client. He was watching his mother’s poodle, Chalmers, while his mom was in Seattle taking care of her grandkids. He’d just had Chalmers groomed for the first time in a long while. Chalmers had been so matted that the groomer had to shave him down. My client figured that his mother would be away for another two weeks and hopefully some of the hair would regrow.

Today, he noticed two large bruises along the dog’s abdomen. He didn’t notice them after the grooming, but he admits that all he kept thinking about was that Chalmers was naked and was praying that the hair would regrow quickly.

“I think that the groomer hurt him,” said my client. I was listening to him and hopefully I was empathetic toward his concerns for Chalmers, but I have seen this type of bruising before. Especially after grooming.

I opened Chalmers’ mouth, and his gums were pale pink, and I rubbed my fingernail against his gums and they started to bleed. I also looked into his eyes and there was a scant amount of blood in the exterior chamber of his eye. The rest of Chalmers’ examination was normal other than he had a fever of 103 and his lymph nodes were enlarged. I asked my client if it was OK to run some diagnostic tests, and he agreed.

My client wanted X-rays to document if there was any abuse, and I told him that I would, but after the bloodwork. My client and I had about a 10-minute discussion on what could have happened at the groomer that would have left the area around Chalmers’ abdomen the color of Merlot. I asked him if he had looked at the skin prior to the grooming. He said he didn’t and probably couldn’t, because of how matted Chalmers was. He guessed that it had probably been a year since Chalmers’ last groom.

I told my client that the lesions didn’t look like abuse. The combination of bruising, friable gums that bled excessively, fever, and enlarged lymph nodes can be signs of tickborne disease or autoimmune disease, which I asked the technicians to test for. The client told me that Chalmers used to have ticks, but he hadn’t seen them in a while. I did remind him that Chalmers had been extremely matted, and it was possible that he wouldn’t see them directly on the skin.

My client was skeptical of the groomer. “So why the bruising after the groom?” he asked. I told him it was just like when I rubbed Chalmers’ gums and made him bleed. It’s the same thing with the groomer. If Chalmers has a low blood platelet count, then blood clotting will be compromised. Brushing and shaving can be traumatic to the skin; just as you will see with any person on anticoagulants for atrial fibrillation, the person’s skin will bruise when touched. My client smiled and said that his grandfather constantly had bruised skin since starting warfarin for A-fib.

My technician came into the room and told me that Chalmers was anemic with a platelet count of under 100,000 when over 300,000 is normal. The coagulation profile would come back later, but they tested him for ehrlichiosis, and he was positive. They also found a dead tick in his ear.

My client wanted to know what my plan was because he needed to call his mom. I told him that we were going to start Chalmers on doxycycline for now and wait for the rest of the bloodwork to come back later. I also told him to tell his mother that the grooming might have saved the dog’s life by allowing us to notice a clinical sign of infectious disease before it was too late.

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Heard it all before in the vet clinic

There are so many situations where I have heard from my clients that they are going to try it on their own.

Aggression: I will observe a dog in desperate need of a trainer, especially after it bites a child or growls at family members. Typically, before we get to that situation, I have already recommended a trainer and they want to give it one more try.

Weight loss: I will hear the excuse “It was the holidays, and we all gain weight.” I remind them that the pet has been gaining weight for a year, and how about trying a diet food?

Arthritis pain: The pet may sleep all day, or it limps, or it might even have trouble getting up or into position to defecate because of pain.

I have heard hundreds of times that my clients don’t want to start something that the pet will be on for life. That’s the way it works. Hopefully, there will be pain relief and improved quality of life for the rest of the pet’s life.

Let me introduce you to Kendall. She is an 8-year-old Cavalier King Charles spaniel, and one of the sweetest dogs that I have ever met. Cavaliers (for short) have a predisposition for heart disease. Clinically they are normal for many years, but during auscultation with a stethoscope, a heart murmur heard in this breed when they are younger typically means that they will have a shortened life expectancy. Most owners who do research on Cavaliers always pay attention and get nervous when the veterinarian listens to their pet’s heart. I usually will give a thumbs up or a nod if I don’t hear a murmur, and the owner’s sense of relief is immediate.

I have been monitoring Kendall’s heart murmur since she was 5 years old. When Kendall was 7-plus years, I sent her to the cardiologist who confirmed that the dog does indeed have the typical heart disease that affects Cavaliers. I recommended baseline medications and made a schedule for follow-up testing. On the bottom of the referral letter from the cardiologist, it stated that the owner was going to go home and discuss the diagnosis and treatment plan with their spouse. The prescriptions were called into her pharmacy and follow-up bloodwork could be done at my hospital, but blood pressure readings, EKGs, and echocardiograms would need to be done at the cardiologist.

I had my technician put in a reminder for one month to schedule follow-up bloodwork. The owner for the next 6 months either canceled or rescheduled all of Kendall’s appointments. One day they came in with Kendall. They had just gone to the dog park and Kendall was coughing. The owner was convinced that the dog had picked up kennel cough. I told them that Kendall couldn’t be clinical for kennel cough one hour after exposure.

Kendall’s heart murmur had rapidly progressed. Her gum color was pale, her cough was deep, and she had to make a deep abdominal effort to breathe. I brought her to the treatment room and put her in an oxygen cage. I went back into the room and told the owner that they couldn’t wait any longer to start Kendall on heart medication, and it was a miracle that she was still alive. The owner needed a minute to call their spouse, so I left the room and started Kendall on life-saving heart medication.

I came back into the room and the owner asked me if the heart medication would be forever. I said, “Yes, the heart medication for Kendall, who is in congestive heart failure, will be for the rest of her life.” Sigh…

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Uncle David and the perfect dog

I am sure that everyone has that uncle or relative who either chose his career or his career chose him. I have friends and relatives who are either accountants or engineers who make every decision according to a logic that I just don’t understand. My uncle is an accountant; thus, he bought his house because it was the perfect size, it had the perfect number of rooms, and it was for less than market value. His car fits four to accommodate his family, but no one else can fit in it. So, to summarize, my uncle’s life and finances can be put into a spreadsheet and perfectly reconciled every month. The world according to David.

His two twin daughters were the cinnamon and spice to his vanilla. They tested the limits and like any freshmen in college would do, they bought a dog because they could. They snuck the puppy out the back door of the dorm like every other freshman, without a hitch. The resident advisor also had a dog and didn’t care as long as the puppy didn’t bark and get her in trouble.

The girls sent me a picture of the puppy. They were told that the puppy was a mixed breed, but based on what I saw from his head and paws, Milo the puppy had some Great Dane in him. Over the next month, Milo gained 12 pounds, and it was becoming harder and harder to hide him. In month 3 of puppy hiding, Milo was so tall that he could look out the window; the RA got nervous, and Milo was expelled from college. Luckily the girls only had one month left in school and were allowed to stay.

Uncle David didn’t like dogs. They were an unexpected cost that he could not justify. He never had a dog or any pet. David is the definition of consistency, so any change from the norm was unacceptable. He also had no idea about Milo. The girls and my aunt never discussed it with him, but now Milo was going to live in his house until the girls moved into their apartment in August. The girls came home and set up the cage and spent the weekend teaching my uncle and aunt about living with a six-month-old puppy who was now over 60 pounds. A lot of words were exchanged, and there was some crying, but by the end of the weekend, it was agreed on by everyone that my aunt would be the caregiver.

Fast forward three months. I was driving from Florida to Colorado and decided to stop off in the Midwest to visit my relatives. It was a surprise visit, and my aunt greeted me at the door. I just wanted to see how my uncle was doing with Milo. I was told that David was out walking Milo. I asked where the girls were, and my aunt told me that they had gone back to school. Without the dog. David didn’t want Milo to be in a small apartment without a fenced backyard.

My aunt was smiling and brought me into David’s office, and there was a giant bed next to his desk. There was a picture of Milo on the computer as a screen saver along with a giant tub of dog treats on the desk. She took me to her bedroom and showed me a second giant dog bed. I was shocked. She said the best is yet to come. She brought me to the garage where a Honda Odyssey minivan was parked. David had bought it because in his sedan, Milo couldn’t sit without bumping his head. I couldn’t believe it. Then the garage door opened and there was Milo pulling my uncle into the garage.

The first thing my uncle said was, “Have you ever seen such a great-looking dog?” I told him that in all my years as a veterinarian, he had the perfect dog.

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Pet Talk: Listen and learn

About a month ago I received an email from my veterinary school that my favorite professor was retiring, and they were looking for funny stories or video tributes about this fantastic veterinarian.

Dr. B was more than interesting. In 30-plus years of teaching, he had left an unbelievable impression on his students. Interestingly, in all the years that he taught, the only year he won lecturer of the year was the year that he taught my graduating class.

He was “must-see TV” before NBC had it. He was from South Africa, and he just had a different way of looking at the world. Dr. B taught embryology and toxicology to the veterinary students, and every disease or interesting case had a story that he had experienced. I truly didn’t have to study from the textbook because his stories are what I remembered, and it made the cases real for me.

He used to tell us repeatedly that if you practice as long as he did, you should experience every condition that he taught us. It was up to us to remember it and appreciate it.

One day years ago a black Labrador was brought in for seizing. It was different from other seizure cases that I have worked on. Typically, the owner videotapes or describes the seizure, and it is up to me to determine the cause.

Well, this Labrador came in actively seizing and it was getting worse. I knew that there was no evidence of Bufo toad toxicity, so I started to ask the owner about the dog. He was not the owner, but the owner’s father. The owner was deployed overseas. The father told me that the Labrador was fine two weeks ago when he got the dog from his son, other than some loose stool. “The dog started to act drunk [ataxic], have muscle spasms, and his eyes got weird yesterday,” said the father.

On physical exam, the Labrador had nystagmus, which is an involuntary eye movement, when we moved him. He also had extreme muscle spasms of the legs, and his head kept turning behind him. The father was worried, my technician was crying, and the front staff were standing in the doorway because they loved that dog and his owner. I was writing down all the clinical signs and listening to the father explain to me that nothing can happen to this dog while his son was away, when the literal lightbulb moment of clarity happened. I remembered when Dr. B talked about metronidazole toxicity in dogs, and how a dog’s head turned backward like in the “Exorcist” movie.

I asked the father whether he had given the dog metronidazole as instructed. It is used to treat diarrhea and other intestinal problems. He told me that he finished the medications that I prescribed for the dog before his son’s deployment, and he had more at home from his other dog’s drug stash and has been giving the medication for weeks. He thought that it was safe for everyday use. I told him that metronidazole can be toxic if taken for prolonged times or at high doses.

The Labrador ended up recovering beautifully with Valium and supportive care.

So when it came time to send a video for my professor, I sent him a picture of the Labrador. I titled it “one of the thousands of dogs saved due to the teaching stories of Dr. B.”

Dr. B reached out to me and I told him the story. His smile went from ear to ear. Good luck in retirement, Dr. B.

Glenn Kalick, DVM

Brookside Animal Hospital of Coral Springs

www.brooksidevet.com

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Second opinion: Read the Rx label!

I recently was stopped by a couple riding their bicycles in my neighborhood. My reputation as a veterinarian who gives advice hit a fever pitch in my community during the pandemic.

Mr. and Mrs. Snowbird just came back from their home in upstate New York. They, like so many people, adopted a pet during the pandemic and drove their new dog Rascal, a one-year-old Corgi, down last weekend.

Prior to traveling to Florida, they brought Rascal to their veterinarian because they thought he had allergies. Rascal was shaking his head a lot and vocalized when you touched his ear.

The question that they had for me referenced back to their other dog, Ruby, a 14-year-old Schnauzer who had terrible allergies. She constantly licked her paws, scratched all the time, and rubbed her face. I recommended that they talk to their local veterinarian about Apoquel or Cytopoint allergy treatments.

The schnauzer was a happy dog after starting the medication. They were hopeful that Rascal didn’t have allergies because the medication was expensive, but Rascal seemed very uncomfortable.

I asked them about the working diagnosis. They told me that their New York veterinarian thought that Rascal had an ear infection. Two weeks ago, Rascal’s ears were red, inflamed, and painful. The veterinarian took a sample from the ear to look under the microscope and sent it out for culture.

The doctor started Rascal on an ear cleaner and pain medication and told the couple they would start treatment once the culture results came back.

The couple told me the technician at the hospital called and told them that Rascal had a bacterial ear infection and the vet wanted to start him on antibiotics. They also told them to clean his ears once a day and to continue him on the pain medications if he was still uncomfortable.

After two weeks of medication, ear cleaning, and pain medications I told them that Rascal should be feeling and looking better. They said he wasn’t and wanted to know if I could look.

As we walked to their house, Mr. Snowbird said that Rascal is not clinically better. He doesn’t seem to be in as much pain, but the veterinarian said that he would only need the medication for a few days, and he is still on them.

Rascal also hates it when Mr. Snowbird puts the medication in his ear. He mentioned that it seemed kind of cruel to put cold ear medication in an ear but what does he know. I was puzzled because I don’t know any ear medication that needs to be refrigerated, but maybe the medication was compounded specifically for Rascal.

Rascal is a sweet Corgi. He jumped up on me when I entered the house and, true to form, he smelled sour. When I investigated his ear, it was inflamed and sensitive and full of white material.

I was hoping it wasn’t pus. Mrs. Snowbird brought me the medication and it was Clavamox, an amoxicillin product that was meant to be refrigerated and given orally. I asked them if they are giving the medication orally or putting it into the ear.

I have never seen such finger pointing towards each other. Obviously, someone didn’t read the label. Mrs. Snowbird laughed and told me at least I had a funny story to tell people. Little did they know that I write articles.

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Something about him was familiar

Best Christmas story or nightmare. You choose.

One day I had a new client come in with a 7-year-old Bernese mountain dog. Chewy presented with a lack of appetite, diarrhea, and vomiting. When the clients came in, I immediately recognized their dog. He had an unusual white stripe on the forehead. The puppy I remembered had the same color pattern and white stripe as Chewy. So, I asked my technician to leave the room and look up Bernese mountain dogs that I have seen over the past 7 years.

I asked another technician to come in to help me perform the physical examination on Chewy. Chewy was clinically dehydrated, his abdomen was tense, the fur on his face smelled like vomit, and his rear end had remnants of diarrhea still on the fur. I told the clients that we would need to start with some blood work and x-rays, and my technicians recruited some help to pick up this 135-pound beast onto the x-ray table. I went back into the exam room and started to talk about the other Bernese mountain dog with similar markings.

Looking back, it was about 7 years ago when a young couple bought a puppy from a breeder. It was in December and the young couple went away for Christmas and left the puppy with their friend and my client. They didn’t leave a cage or toys and the young woman who took care of the puppy left him in a spare bedroom where the puppy did tremendous damage.

One day the puppy got out of the bedroom and destroyed their Christmas tree. He knocked it over, ripped open presents, chewed up ornaments, and ate the stockings. I remember informing the young woman when she brought him in that I was going to have to perform surgery to retrieve all the things that he ate. It ended up being a problem because we couldn’t communicate with the owners based on their travel, but the surgery was an emergency. I ended up performing the surgery which went without complications. The friend ended up paying for the surgery and I found out later that the whole ordeal ended their friendship.

My technician who was doing the deep dive into the research came in and told me that my instincts were correct and it was the same dog. His name was John. When the new owners found out that his name was John they asked if the original owner’s name was Hortensia. It was.

Same dog, similar situation. I ended up telling the new owner my history with John. They adopted John about a year ago, hated the name and call him Chewy because he always has something in this mouth.

My technicians came back in with Chewy and we put the radiographs on the examination computer and we could see the problem right away. Chewy had  about 9 pacifiers in his stomach. I asked the owners if they have a child and they did. Each parent thought it was the other one that got rid of the pacifiers, but it was Chewy. I told them that Chewy needed surgery. The fact that there are 9 pacifiers means that they are not passing. I thought it was fortunate for them that when they adopted John the previous owners transferred the insurance to them, and they never canceled it. And I told them that they never will. Best holiday news ever. Love, Chewy.

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Dogs have a life expectancy for a reason

I am sitting on a driveway with four other couples socially distancing and wearing a mask. Everyone is sipping wine or drinking beer. To be honest, the mask-wearing to not-mask-wearing ratio is not ideal.

The women are sitting on one side of the circle and the men are on the other. The women are talking politics and Dr. Fauci; while the men are talking football, their college’s record, and whether the SEC is still the best conference.

It was a quiet night until one of the women asked a question directed at me. She wanted to know if I knew that the last six dogs that died on our street all died of cancer and whether I should look into whether there was a cancer cell.

Let’s break down the statistics. The last six dogs that died over the past two years had an average age of 14. There were two Labrador retrievers, two golden retrievers (mine), one poodle who was 17, and a mixed breed.

The street is a fairly new street. Most of us have lived here less than three years. The electrical lines are underground and we have all had recent

Radon testing. If there is one thing about where I live, especially with the vast majority of us having empty nests and a little more disposable income, the dogs in our lives are very well taken care of and I am confident that they all moved to our neighborhood with relatively clean bills of health.

The average life expectancy for small dogs is 15-16 years, medium and large dogs 10-14 years and giant breeds around 7 to 8 years. I have been very lucky and I do EVERYTHING for my dogs and I have not had one live beyond 14. I like big dogs.

In my adult life, I have had five dogs and, other than a Keeshond who was hit by a car when I was a kid, every one of my dogs died of cancer. Let me make myself very clear, my dogs lived long enough to get cancer. They didn’t suffer from heart disease or infectious diseases but lived long enough to get cancer.

So, I answered the question with a question. In the past five years I asked everyone to think about the reasons why you’ve attended funerals. What was the cause of death?

The top three responses were cancer, heart disease, and COVID-19. I told them that those numbers probably reflect the national average. Dogs have a life expectancy for a reason, as do humans.

At some point in our aging process cancer, heart disease, and kidney disease become clinically relevant. The biggest decision, and the most humane decision we make as compassionate pet parents is that we don’t have to make our pets suffer and we advocate for them. I had to put my own golden retriever Kelly to sleep last week. She was 12. All of my dogs have lived to 14, but it was not in Kelly’s cards.

She got the dreaded metastatic Hemangiosarcoma of the spleen that is just devastating to golden retrievers. Kelly never gave me one second of grief.  he was sweet until the end, and my job was to not let her have one second of discomfort.

The woman in the circle just nodded her head agreeing that there was no cancer cell in our neighborhood. My wife sighed because hopefully the discussion was over before it got heated.

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In the blink of an eye

I guess we are all getting older, but occasionally, there is a situation that reinforces the fact that you have become part of the older generation. That situation happened to me this past spring when I was lecturing at Auburn Veterinary School. I was part of a group of speakers talking to the veterinary students about life post-graduation. Speakers from around the country were mentoring young minds, eager to hear about their profession. There is nothing more rewarding.

While I was waiting to speak, I decided to walk around the veterinary school. It was cold outside, so I stayed inside and walked by a man and woman. When I walked by, I could hear them talking about me, and I heard the woman tell the man that she knew me but could not remember where.

I continued to walk around the building when I heard her loudly say down the hall, “she knew it,” and before I knew it, she was walking briskly to catch up to me. She tugged at my jacket and apologized, but she wanted to say hi to me.

She introduced herself as Paulette and said that I might not remember her, but her mother, who recently passed away, was a client, and I would remember Rocko the Rottweiler.

Dr. Glenn Kalick

Rocko the Rottweiler was one of a kind. The owner used to call the dog stupid because I performed four exploratory surgeries to remove foreign bodies from his intestines. A little biology lesson here: Rottweilers have large diameter intestines, so a foreign body would have to be large to obstruct Rocko. Interestingly, each of the four foreign body surgeries was for either the husband’s athletic socks or the knot on the end of a large rawhide dog bone. Rocko was one of a kind. He got into the fishing tackle box and got a fishing hook stuck in his tongue, and the one time he went to the beach, he got stung by a jellyfish. Thank god the owner had pet insurance.

Paulette introduced her husband, who also said he recognized me. He told me I probably would not recognize him, but he spent a day shadowing me for a school project when he was in high school. He told me that he was the kid who fainted when watching me in surgery.

I told him that it happened all the time, and he should not be embarrassed. He said that experience changed his career aspirations from wanting to be a human surgeon to pursuing his love for numbers, and now he is an accountant.

It was great to see Paulette and her husband, but it was strange that it happened at a veterinary school in Alabama.  I asked her if she was here because her pet was sick. She said she didn’t currently have a pet because she was too busy traveling. So, I had to ask her again, why is she there? My daughter is in Vet school at Auburn, and we are taking her out to dinner after the conference.

So, here is the circle of life. I took care of the grandmother’s dog, and I am lecturing to the granddaughter at veterinary school. Where did the time go? I ended up going to dinner with the happy family and hope to continue to mentor the young veterinary student throughout her career.

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