Squirrel Medicine 2047

40 years ago, the thought of a cat only clinic seemed absurd no doubt. Equally absurd might be the prediction of a squirrel veterinary clinic opening forty years from now. If she isn't retired by then, I think Lynn would be an excellent candidate to join the staff of this clinic. After all, our receptionist is the only person I know with the decency to cover her eyes when in the presence of copulating squirrels. And just today, with absolutely no gear to protect against an assault, she daringly rushed to the rescue of a squirrel who got trapped inside (yes inside) one of the clinic's bird feeders. Lynn, I salute you!

Pouches

One of the more common discussions that I have with clients revolves around whether one should feed their cat canned cat food or dry kibble. Just recently another option has entered the field for me. The brand of food that I choose for my cat (Wellness) has started offering four varieties of food delivered in a pouch. This isn't neccessarily revolutionary, as Royal Canin, Whiskas and a few other brands have been offering a similar pouch for some time...the difference is that Wellness is only brand of the bunch that offers the high quality I demand for Pinkie.

So what is so special about cat food in a pouch? Canned food relies on high temperatures to destroy microorganisms, and in the process this heat can denature proteins to detract both from taste and potentially nutritional quality (I believe that the recipes are formulated to tailor for this possibility). The pouch cat food relies on a clean enviroment for the food preparation, so high heat isn't needed to kill bacteria. Bottom line, it should taste better. If you are interested in seeing a difference for yourself, go check out the soup isle in the grocery store and pick up both a can of soup and a box of soup. Boxed soup, made in a similar way that the pouch cat food is made, tastes a ton better in my opinion.

So what does Pinkie think? Well, she just about went crazy when I brought it home last week. I choose the duck and turkey variety to avoid giving her any fish or beef protein, and she licked the bowl clean. It costs a bit more than I am used to however, so I don't know if we're going to completely switch over. Currently, I will feed her a 12 once can over a three day period, and that keeps my daily expense quite low. If I were feeding Pinkie with 3 oz cans however, I would consider making the switch. The cost is the same, there is less material waste with the packaging, and it seems to be the superior product.

You can learn a lot from your dog...

Well, sure I love cats so much that I work at a feline only veterinary facility, but it doesn't mean that I don't love dogs as well. This last Saturday I put my dog Quincy to sleep after struggling to live with a brain cancer. He was a really great friend, and I thought I'd share some stories about the infamous "Mr. Q"

Quincy loved to go on runs, and was perfect on the leash. He helped me train for my marathon back in 2002, although I never let him go further than 18 miles. Did I mention that he could handle 18 miles?!? I always had to be careful when moving my tennis shoes, because if he saw me with them, I was pretty much going to at least walk him around the block.

Quincy also loved to swim. As it turns out, he could swim for over an hour. I learned this at a park in College Station which had a bunch of ducklings in it. He had his eye on them, and kept swimming after his idea for a mid-day meal. I do not endorse duckling consumption by pet dogs, but really, what could I do as he was deaf to my pleas to stop. The crowd that day really gave me a hard time about it, and I thought that I would have to jump in and drag him out. After 40 minutes I noticed he was getting slower and shortly after an hour he climbed out and collapsed in exhaustion. Thankfully the ducklings were really good at diving to get away from him.

Quincy could not ride the bike, so we never contemplated triathlons.


While he never dined on waterfowl, Quincy enjoyed chickens, possums and a lot of other wild animals. I don't hunt (I don't eat much in the way of meat either), but I bet he would of loved it if I did. The day he caught the chicken was quite eventful. We were at Shiner and I was trying to sleep. Amanda let the dogs out and then proceeded to yell after Quincy as he headed to the neighbors chicken coop with an agenda. Amanda was distressed to see all the feathers flying from down the road, and then finally woke me up when she could tell that he was bringing something back. In vet school they teach you a humane way to kill a chicken quickly. I never expected that to come in handy, but I sure didn't want this beat up bird to continue to suffer from my dogs hunting instinct.

Quincy loved women. If you were in the room, and you were a woman, that is where he wanted to be. My canine Casanova had some smooth moves.

When I was in vet school, Quincy and I would pass the time dressing him up. Perhaps I shouldn't admit this, but then again you've never seen how handsome he looks in a hat and tie. On occasion he would sport a red bandanna and looked pretty sharp.

Quincy was a lover, but also a fighter when times called for it. My third year of vet school someone broke in to the house while I was there and he made his presence known.
He also had beef with my dad's cattle, but they didn't pose near as much threat. One time he got a little too close to the bull who then proceeded to knock him in the head. I was studying neuroanatomy at the time, and found quick application of my study materials that day (he turned out fine).

Quincy taught me a lot about vet medicine. I learned how to convince a dog to stop eating cat poop. He also taught me what happens when a dog eats a ton of ibuprofen, a lesson I doubt I'll ever forget. (He decided to eat a bottle when I was out of the house and went into kidney failure...Scott Ipsen was my roommate at the time and thankfully found Quincy and rushed him to the vet hospital at which he worked).


Quincy really enjoyed a nice yard. Thankfully he was still in good health by the time I bought my current house, so I have good memories of him ripping thru the bushes.

Unfortunately he didn't get to enjoy my yard as much as I wanted. About a month after I moved in, he started acting a little off, and would walk in really tight coordinated circles to his right. Things got so bad that he barely wanted to get out of his dog bed. By the time we recognized his brain tumor, we placed him on steroids and were able to get a few more months of quality of life for him. But this past Saturday, things were just not what he wanted.
Rather than let him suffer, we helped him move along under the pecan tree. Folks who have never had the pleasure of being close to a pet may find it weird to think of people getting torn up by such a loss, but it's pretty rough stuff I'd say. Whenever I am at home, my pets are almost always there at my side. Sure they can stir up trouble some of the time, but mostly they shower you with unconditional love and gratitude. I really think that there is a lot going on a subconscious level between us and our pets, and their absence can really become quite a huge void. Quincy certainly has been a huge part in my life, and while I'm glad to know he won't be in any more confusion or discomfort, I'll miss seeing him after a long day of work.