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Review #400 - Milestone dedicated to Brandy and Motley!Jul 31 '04 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Your dogs (and cats) are part of your family. Find them a Vet as soon as you move. Don't make my mistake!!
Before I start, this milestone review is going to be dedicated to Brandy and Motley, my fur-babies that died in 1997. Please read the entire story, and you will then see why this belongs in this category. When Matt and I got married over seven years ago, I brought into the marriage my two dogs, as well. Brandy was a 13 year old Standard Red Dachshund and Motley was a 13 year old Blonde Cocker Spaniel. Both dogs had been with me almost 6 years before Matt and I got married and they were both very special to me. Having gone thru a miscarriage, and infertility treatments that didn't work, I thought they would be the only "babies" I'd ever have. When I moved to Florida to be with Matt I didn't think about picking a Vet right away. They weren't due for shots or anything, so I thought I had time. I didn't stop to think that, like human children, and adults for that matter, accidents happen. Old age happens. Illness happens. A friend of mine from back home came to visit about 3 months after I had moved. She and I went to the beach, leaving my sister and then brother-in-law at home with my two dogs, which were housedogs, as well as their two dogs, that were mostly kept outside. At the time, my sister and BIL were living with us. At the beach there was no way to get a hold of me. Neither my friend or myself had a cell phone at the time. When I got home I found Brandy as limp as a rag doll. My sister was crying. Brandy just collapsed about 45 minutes before we got home. My sister didn't know what to do. I didn't have a vet to take them to and she couldn't reach me. I grabbed the phone book and started searching. Of course it was around 6pm on a Sunday, so I had to find a clinic that would be open, as well as one I could find. None of our friends had pets, so we didn't have any idea who was good and who wasn't. Matt came home shortly after I did and we found an emergency clinic about 7 miles from the house, so Matt took my sister, Brandy and me to the Vet. Brandy was in a coma. She had been diagnosed with a tumor that pressed against her spinal cord, which was why she was limp. The Vet tried, but couldn't get her to come out of the coma. Signing the paper for him to end her misery was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It broke my heart. About two months after Brandy died, Motley was involved in a freak accident. This section will be a little graphic, so if you're eating, stop now. As I said briefly before, my sister and BIL had two dogs, as well. They were kept outside because they were still puppies. Not housebroken, and large (Chow/Shepard mixes) they were too big to be in the house, anyway. They loved to dig. We had holes all over the yard, much to the disgust of management of the unit we were living in. They were moved around the yard often, filling in holes as we moved them around the best we could. Motley was blind, but she knew her way around. Cataracts had taken her vision, but she was a very happy and healthy dog. As long as nothing was out of place, she could walk around the house, and the yard, with no problems at all. You wouldn't even know she was blind! It was, again, a Sunday night. My sister and I were watching Magician David Copperfield on TV. Matt had a friend over who smoked, so they took Motley outside when they went so I wouldn't have to miss my show. A few minutes later Matt comes to the door telling me I need to come outside for a minute. Of course, it wasn't a commercial, so I asked him to wait a few minutes since he didn't sound like it was a big deal. He said, no I need you to come and look at your dog. I said hold on. He said no, I really think you need to come now. I went outside and looked at my dog. She was walking around, no problem, but when she turned to look at me when I called her name I about gagged. Her eye had been popped out and was hanging by the nerves. I have a weak stomach and it was all I could do not to throw up. It wasn't hurting her, she was as happy as ever, especially having all of the attention. I went to the phone book, again, to look for a vet. I couldn't look at her. I was afraid I would be sick. Motley had been walking around in the yard when she stepped in a new hole that my sister's dogs had dug. When she put her foot down, expecting to step onto grass as usual, her foot when into the hole that wasn't there when she had been outside before, and her head bumped the edge of the hole on the opposite side. She hit the edge just right, or just wrong, and it popped her eye out of the socket. In a million years I don't think it could happen again. On the way to the first Vet's office, they were expensive but about the only one open, we passed a Vet's office less than 1/2 mile from our house. Someone was inside working at the desk. We stopped and knocked on the door. They were closed, but they were there late taking care of the animals. They looked her over and decided to keep her for the night and operate in the morning. Because she was blind they would just remove the eye rather than try to put it back in. It might not take, which would require a second surgery to remove it. Since the eye was basically cosmetic only for her, might as well take the "easier" option and remove it. They would sew her eye shut and that would be it. Nice and easy. The next afternoon the Vet's office called and said Motley was ready to come home. Surgery went well and she was fine. We went and picked her up. She had a cone on to keep her from scratching at her eye and ripping out the stitches. Other than that she was fine. After a day or so, Motley wasn't herself. She couldn't or drink as she'd throw either up. She was constantly getting sick. I took her back to the vet and she was getting dehydrated. The placed a needle under her skin on her back and placed fluids there for her body to slowly absorb. We did this twice a day for three days and she wasn't getting any better. Only weaker. They were giving her intravenous meds, as well, because she couldn't keep any oral meds down. She had an infection. On day four I called in the afternoon to see if Motley was ready to come home. They said to give them an hour and they'd call and let me know when to come and get her. I gave them two hours, and when they didn't call I called them. Motley had died about an hour before I called and they had forgotten to call me. You read that right! They FORGOT to call and let me know my dog had died an hour before! I was horrified and angry. I went to the Vet's office. They took me back to see Motley, since she was still in her cage. I was horrified all over again. The Vet's office was in a newer building. The exam rooms were nicely furnished. The entire front area was really nice. The surgery center and kennel area was in a second building behind it, which I didn't know. There was no one back there working and watching the animals. It looked like a large, renovated garage. The concrete floors were dirty. Most of the cages had dogs begging to be let out. Water was spilled, mixing with urine and feces and the smell was staggering! This is where they had been keeping my post-op dog! The entire area smelled of feces. The floors were dirty. The doors to the operating room opened to this mess, and were apparently left open all of the time except for when an actual surgery was happening, which kept that room dirty and smelly, as well. By not doing a thorough check before an emergency happened, I killed my precious dog. No, I didn't do the surgery and didn't give her the infection, but I might as well have. By not checking the Vet out any farther than the exam rooms, I opened her up to not being well cared for, and almost neglected, during the time I should have been there for her the most. She was hurt, and needed good medical care, and I failed her. When you move into a new area, or are thinking of getting a new pet, look for a Vet first thing. Ask people you know and trust for referrals. Ask the Vet for references. Tell them you want a tour. Get to know how the clinic works and meet the staff. If it annoys them, leave and continue your search. They aren't the correct Vet for you. They should understand your concerns and your need to find out how the clinic operates. You would do no less for your child or yourself. Your pet is a member of your family. They should get the same care you expect for yourself. Since your pet can't speak for itself, you need to look out for their health and well-being. Don't wait until there is an emergency and just skim the yellow pages. By doing so could cost your best friend their life!  |
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