Cat

Coronavirus and your pet — what you need to know

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

For many of us, our everyday lives have changed dramatically, suddenly, as the coronavirus pandemic has swept the world, crossing continents, invading communities large and small.

Although there are hundreds of existing coronaviruses in humans and animals, this brand-new “novel” coronavirus has never been seen before and has proven to be highly contagious among humans.

It is only natural that people question if their dogs and cats are also at risk. Diseases spread from animals to people are called “zoonotic.”

At this time there are no confirmed reports of pets becoming sick with COVID-19 in the United States. There is no information that suggests dogs or cats might be a source of infection to people.

What can you, as a pet owner, do in the face of a potential crisis in your own home? What if you, the owner, tests positive? Worse, what if you become severely ill?

SUGGESTIONS TO PREPARE YOUR HOUSE AND PETS

In case you might need to be home-quarantined, please keep at least two weeks of pet food and your pets’ medication(s) on hand at home.

Veterinarians are essential workers and most clinics are open to help you. Call your veterinarian if you need advance medication.

Should you test positive, have arrangements in place to limit your contact with your pet(s) just as you would limit contact with other family members. It is recommended that you not pet, kiss, hug, or share food with your pet during your quarantine period.

If you have a service animal (please refer to CDC guidelines for definition of service animals) or you, yourself, must care for your pets, please wear a cloth face covering and try to minimize contact, washing your hands well before and after pet contact.

You should not share any dishes, drinking glasses, towels, clothing or bedding with your pets during this time.

The coronavirus is primarily spread from an infected person’s bodily fluids, like saliva or mucous when they cough or sneeze.

Secondary transmission is possible if you touch a countertop or surface that is moist with infected sneeze or cough droplets. A smooth, nonporous surface like a countertop transmits better than a porous and fibrous surface like pet fur.

Again, at this time, per the CDC, there is no evidence that companion animal pets can spread the coronavirus to people. Pets are an important part of our lives and give joy and comfort, especially during a time of home isolation.

There is no reason, at the moment, to remove pets from a coronavirus positive house unless the owner becomes too sick to care for the pet and no other family member is available.

Should the owner be unable to care for a pet, and has no family to take it in, then the community will need to step in to help. Contact your veterinarian, a local Humane Animal group or your local Animal Shelter for service under these extreme circumstances.

CAN PETS TEST POSITIVE FOR CORONAVIRUS?

Despite the global cases of 2.1 million people being infected with the coronavirus as of April 17, at this time the AVMA is only aware of four animals worldwide testing positive : two dogs and one cat in Hong Kong, and a tiger in New York.

We do know in the case of the two dogs and housecat in Hong Kong, the pets lived in very close contact with a positive ill owner.

New York City’s Bronx Zoo had a Malayan tiger present with a cough and tested positive for the virus. A total of seven big cats in the collection had mild coughs. All recovered. They were not each tested because that required anesthetizing each animal, wherein the risks outweighed the benefits.

In this case the tigers’ caretaker was discovered to be asymptomatically positive and was shedding the virus. No other big cat in the collection was affected.

This has been an isolated incident, and it’s still under investigation.

Keep in mind, the domestic house cat is not a mini-tiger.

All of the house pets were asymptomatic. At this time, there is no evidence that house pets can spread the coronavirus to people and no pets or livestock have become ill with COVID-19 in the U.S. .

Please take appropriate steps to ensure your pets are safe and cared for during this time.

In the meantime, you can stay up to date on the coronavirus by following the American Veterinary Medical Association news online or reviewing the information on-site from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

with a long distance, virtual hug,
Dr. Mc

Christine McFadden holds a license to practice veterinary medicine and surgery. She has cared for the family pets of Merced at Valley Animal Hospital for more than 30 years.

Cheese Whiz

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

So I was visiting with a friend when she decided it was time to pill her dog.  This was something new for her and she had questions. “What should I put the pill in?” She’d used peanut butter once before when she gave her dog some medicine. I shrugged. That’s ok. Told her I use bread with my dogs. Bread is something I usually have on hand, it’s cheap, and makes disgusting balls to mold around things like pills. My dogs would crawl through fire for a crust of bread. She opened her fridge (maybe she was out of peanut butter?) and called back from within its depths : “what about cheese?” “Sure”, I said.  She extracted herself from the refrigerator, bringing two slices of cheese with her. Pre-sliced orange cheese. Gotcha. Least it wasn’t in a can (and yes, I ate cheese whiz from a can growing up. Still here). Then she selected one slice and began to wrap up the pill. Sure seemed to be taking a while. The dog was starting to drool and I was my usual impatient self so I reached across to just mush it up, for heaven’s sake, no need to be dainty. In my expert hands the cheese completely crumbled and fell away from the pill. I stared. “What kind of cheese IS this?” I asked suspiciously. She glanced over at me. “Tillamook.” Tillamook? I reeled. Tillamook is some serious cheese. What happened to American Kraft? Where was the CAN, man? This was uncharted territory. Done trying to make silly putty out of real cheese, I simply reached down, opened her dogs’ mouth and pushed the pill and cheese crumbles in, letting the dog lick the last crumbs off my palm.
Real cheese, what a crazy idea. Invalidated my entire childhood’s culinary experiences! 

I Am The Cheese Dog

‘This is brand name organic right Karen?’

Sigh. Isn’t that the darndest thing? But I actually do find myself giving all sorts of recommendations on how to deliver medication to a pet. For many of my clients it’s fairly simple : they have a time tested treat that they can hide medication within and especially with the larger breeds of dogs and any garbage hound, down the hatch it goes. Medicine is a treat. For little dogs and those with pushed in faces and cats and birds and turtles and coyotes it can be surprisingly difficult to actually deliver the medication to its intended patient. Think about it. The brachycephalic breeds of dogs (Pugs, Bostons, Bulldogs) have all the body parts of a regular dog, just compressed into about 20% of the space. There’s no extra room in their mouth and they choke and turn blue if you try to get anything past them. Little dogs suffer from Napoleon Complex – they bite you if you try to force something on them. They know the Alligator Roll, too.

 

Cats? Hoo-boy, cats. We carry one medication for cats stocked in four forms: a tiny tablet, a chewable “gourmed” form, as a liquid and finally as a topical “transdermal” preparation. Yikes. Cat owners in particular are warned not to “dry pill” their cat, meaning do NOT shove a pill down your cat’s throat and forget about it. The pill or capsule may stick partway down, lodging in the folds of the esophagus. Without food or liquid to carry it down to the stomach, the medication may adhere and cause serious inflammation.  Most people have experienced the feeling at least once and don’t wish to repeat it. That’s why we swallow our meds with a glass of water. Esophagitis can affect a cats ability to swallow and in extreme cases lead to strictures or scar tissue in the esophagus. I often recommend that people be prepared to follow a pill with a syringe of warm water. This also helps cleanse the mouth of any aftertaste, making the experience more palatable (very helpful if you must repeat the medication in a few hours!). Feeding canned food afterwards is also effective. Many owners purchase special treats, some with a pocket to house the medication, to pill their pets.  Since medication in some form is almost inevitable for most dogs and cats, keep that in mind during training. Stay ahead of the game. And just to keep the record straight, the only cheese I eat out of a can these days has the word “Nacho” emblazoned across it. 

 

Christine B. McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com 

Little Old Ladies

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

She was a little old lady, short and round as a dumpling. She energetically grabbed her dog from the exam table and tipped him onto his paws. You’d never have guessed her age except for the grey hair. Her dog found his footing and waited expectantly by her feet. “I’ve got to go”, she declared, “I have to decorate the Hall for my sister’s 50th wedding anniversary.” Wow, I marveled, that’s something! A blaze of blue eyes flashed at me. “It’s a pain in the-you-know-what” she said. “My 50th was 2 years ago and every day I wake up and wonder if we’re going to make it.”  She gave me a saucy grin and danced out the door, her dog following her in adoration. I stared after them open-mouthed. Awesome woman.

People and pets share their lives with me. It’s a jumble and a jungle out there, and hanging on to these moments builds a life. On a long work day, I spend more awake time with fellow staff than I do with my family. 

When I’d first started out in town I struggled to put my textbook medical knowledge together with my patient’s needs. My focus was on the animals and I learned their names first. This fact appalled me the day I rounded a clothing carousel at a local store and came face to face with a client. The woman looked up, a smile starting and then fading as I blurted out “Beau!” – not her name at all, but her dogs. Good grief! I worked harder to learn BOTH their names in future but don’t test me on that one. Over the years my brain often refuses to let go of the first impression, the pet we bonded over who is now deceased, so that I continue to call the next dog, or worse, the third or fourth pet that follows, by the original dog’s name. My staff cringes at these mistakes, occasionally alarmed as they search for other signs of dementia. There’s Zoie’s Mom. Oh, she has another dog now. Mrs. R is 87 years old. Last year she took a trip to China with her daughter. Next year they’re thinking of Australia. Zoie was a 10 pound black miniature poodle who had epilepsy and the sweetest disposition you could ask for. Her new dog is 3 years old, but she will always be the “new” dog. When we get together we talk more about Zoie. The new dog is very healthy and we don’t have twelve years of medical battles fought and won to look back upon with her. 

And I have fond memories of the family matriarch, in her 90’s, who put out condensed milk for her cats every day. They were all terribly obese. She confided to me once that if they turned up their nose at a can of food she’d just open another flavor. Sometimes, she said, there would be as many as 7 cans lined up along her porch. I marveled at the ability of our pets to train us. She took in many neighborhood strays and it pleased her to spoil them. She laughed at my dietary advice. Condensed milk had seen her into her 90’s and I wasn’t going to convince her otherwise.  She gave me a chocolate colored blanket she’d hand crocheted. I have it yet.

old ladydog-walking-4426782.jpg

It was a little old lady who taught me about the bluing older woman used to take the grey out of their hair and make it lustrous white. True, sometimes it turned their hair a delicate blue. This invaluable knowledge helped me make white poodles whiter. 

I’ll be a little old lady someday. I’ll hoard cats and keep too large of a dog and goodness knows what other kinds of critters. I plan to wear purple with a red hat and act up just like those women in the Red Hat Society, because I love the poem by Jenny Joseph. And to all the older women who have shared their pets and their lives with me, thank you for enriching my days and just for being you.

 

Christine B. McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Ronda and the Very Bad Paw

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

It was late in the day when the Animal Control Officer from the City of Merced Police Department brought us a stray cat that was in trouble. This service is provided to injured stray animals in the City, and it is up to us to determine if they can be helped or, sometimes, to help end their suffering. This little grey cat weighed in at 7 pounds and had a left front paw mildly swollen from what appeared to be a bite wound. She was running a fever, almost 104 degrees F, but was purring and in general seemed very happy to have been found. We shaved her wound; the paw didn’t look too bad. We could help her.

Under anesthesia I opened the abscess so that the pus could drain out, using a sterilized rubber band to act as a seton or drain to keep the tiny wound open for healing; otherwise it might close up too quickly, sealing bacteria inside and the abscess would not resolve. The cat was temporarily named “Ronda” by the staff, given an antibiotic injection and some subcutaneous fluids for her fever and placed in a cage with her own comfy blanket.

End of story, yes? I moved on to other patients, leaving the daily nursing to our extremely capable nursing staff. When no one claimed Ronda after several days, we approached the local Rescue Group, New Beginnings For Merced County Animals, to ask if they might be able to find a home for her. They agreed to take her in. New Beginnings was founded over 11 years ago by a remarkable local woman, Sharon Lohman. The non-profit organization works with over 70 volunteers and pet Foster parents to find homes and care for well over 5,000 dogs and cats each year. It is estimated that they have saved the lives of up to 75% of the dogs who enter our local shelters.

Well, Ronda’s story didn’t end with that first minor surgery. Her swollen paw didn’t respond to treatment. Irritating. Abscesses like this just aren’t that medically challenging. I threw a second, high powered antibiotic at her, and added twice daily foot soaks in antibacterial wash. Kindergarten medicine! Open an abscess up, drain it, and voila, they practically heal themselves! Ronda, however, hadn’t read that medical bulletin. Pus was leaking around the drain, but her paw wasn’t healing. We tested her for the feline leukemia/FELV and feline aids/ FIV viruses, in case Ronda was immunosuppressed. She tested negative for both (and people CANNOT get HIV or AIDs from cats).

Eight days after she had been admitted, Ronda was still there, her paw enormous! We took x-rays, looking for signs of abnormal bone tissue, maybe a sliver of metal acting as a foreign object. Zilch. Normal. I was worried that Rescue wouldn’t take her. (They do a lot of fundraisers, but sometimes it comes down to “do you want THIS animal, or will helping 5 others be better?”). Now we were discussing amputating her front leg to save her life. I was furious with that paw. Because of the progression, I was certain that I was dealing with an anaerobic bacteria, one that didn’t require oxygen to grow. These bacteria can be difficult to kill. I asked for the weekend, and told Ronda she had one last chance.

I took her to surgery again. Knowing that I had to expose all possible tissue to oxygen, leaving no place for bacteria to hide, I literally dug through each toe, around each pad. I placed two ¼ inch penrose drains (don’t ask me how) in that tiny paw. I added on an antibiotic better known for fighting anaerobic infections and we all sat back and held our breath. In 48 hours her paw was fine. Ronda kept her leg, healed quickly from that point on and went to her new home. Lesson re-learned: Never assume.

Christine B. McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Follow drmcsveterinarytales on Facebook for even more!

My Husband’s Hospital Vacation

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / 2 Comments

My first indication that text messaging had gone too far in my household was the afternoon I checked my phone and discovered the following message : “Just wanted to let you know. I thought I might be having a heart attack so I checked myself into the hospital.” It had been sent from my husband’s cell phone.

 

What you need to know were the events preceding this text message. My husband had taken our children skiing two days earlier. On this morning, he had done some moaning and groaning around the house. The problem is, I not only have to get ready for work myself, but I oversee care of the kids, the cats and the chickens before leaving. Getting to school on time is a mountain we climb every day. If it’s not worth opening your mouth to speak up about something, I’m not going to slow down long enough to start an inquiry. He knows where to find his Advil.

 

I confess I felt more irritation than anxiety when I read the message. Really? I’d had a full day and no lunch up to that point. So I called him. He answered. He sounded cheerful. Enough hours had passed before I’d discovered his message that he could assure me that his chest x-rays, his blood tests and his EKG were all normal and he wasn’t having a heart attack. So why are you still there? I reasoned. Well, he rambled on, this doesn’t explain the pain. “What about arthritis?” I asked. Oh no, he assured me, I’ve never had arthritis here. It’s on my right side. I was driving myself to the golf course and felt pain in my right arm, so I pulled over and googled heart attacks. It said they would be on the left side, but I thought I should be sure. They’re going to run another test to see if I have blood clots. If it’s abnormal, I’ll stay for a CT scan.

 

OK, honey. I returned to my own patients. There was a cat that had been tumbled in the dryer for 7 minutes. She appeared dazed, with tiny bruises starting to appear on her skin where patches of fur were missing. She was a lucky cat; only last month, another cat had actually died in a similar accident. We began treatment for shock and started the cat on IV fluids.

 

It was closing time when my husband called. My test is abnormal, he said. “What’s the name of that test, hon?” D-Dimer. We use the D-dimer test in veterinary medicine. Platelets, the cells that help blood coagulate or clot so you don’t bleed out, will slowly break down after they’ve served their purpose. If your body is forming big blood clots where it shouldn’t, the by-product of platelet breakdown will be very high in the blood stream. The D-dimer test measures this level.

 

For a variety of reasons, I didn’t believe it. So while getting the kids squared away I researched the normal blood levels for humans. Armed with this info, I went down to visit my husband in the ER. He looked remarkably fit. In fact, he wasn’t feeling any pain, though he’d not been given any medication. I asked his nurse for the actual number on his D-dimer test. It was less than 200. I stared at the nurse. “But that’s normal”. Yes, the nurse agreed. I stared at my husband. “Who told you it was abnormal?” He frowned, concentrating. He wasn’t sure (What else did he have to do?). About then they came to wheel him down for his CT scan. They said it would be read that night. Forgive me my skepticism, but having assured myself that my husband was doing very well, I kissed him and told him to enjoy his scan. At this point I reflected that if they did find something wrong with him, it would not be what he’d gone in for. I slept poorly (despite my brave front). At 2:20 in the morning (5 hours later) my husband sent a text message that he had completed his CT scan but it wouldn’t be read until the next day.

 

I visited him on my way to work the next morning. He was cheerful and even complimentary on the hospital breakfast. They were going to run some more blood tests. I left him to it.

 

At work, my own patients were well. My dryer tumbled cat looked much better and was enjoying a hearty breakfast herself. Her bloodwork was excellent. By early afternoon I was discharging my patient to her ecstatic owner. Back at the human hospital, my husband had been leaked the information that he had a “non-displaced hairline fracture in his right rib”. My husband was now being offered an echocardiogram and had begun to call me every hour or so. I told him if he couldn’t relieve the babysitter by 3:30 to let me know. If he wanted to stay another night in the hospital that was on him. I was worn out.

 

Once he knew it was just a cracked rib, my husband felt lots better. I arrived home that night to find he had invited several people to dinner and cooked up a storm. Even better, he could go on his golf vacation next week.

 

I am SO grateful my patients can’t talk!

 

Christine B. McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Marijuana Toxicosis

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

Now it is possible that some of you may succumb to the same little habit I am guilty of: reading the popular magazines while standing in line at the grocery store. Never buying them, of course. This is where I follow the stars (we aren’t talking astronomy here) and gather knowledge of my fellow human beings. Consider it human resource research. It doesn’t take many pages for me to feel that I have gleaned everything of interest that one of these magazines might offer, so imagine my surprise when I came across an entire page devoted to the subject of: “What’s In My Bag?” It is actually believed to be of interest to American readers to know what a Hollywood actress might carry in her purse. I am stuck on that: who cares and why? First, I decided to look in my own purse. I have one, though I rarely carry it.  Wallet, ID, keys. A pen. Sometimes I have actual money in there, sometimes not. I cannot imagine this being of interest to anyone else. Even potential purse snatchers have divined that it’s not worth their time.

Now, if I was going to be interviewed for a magazine with full page glossies, would I lie and embellish all that? You bet. Do people really carry extra shoes, whole bottles of water, and apples in their purses? Why don’t THEIR apples bruise after being jostled in a bag with shoes all day long? Are those shoes… gym shoes? Ewww. Is it possible that I am the only person in the world who doesn’t carry protein bars as their snack, sweetened preferably with honey or agave or stevia leaves, no white sugar please? Help! These women have no need for gym class – their purses are “free weights”. Crunches, curls, lunges -just lift and press that purse. The possibilities are endless.

One item missing from these lists of “What’s In My Bag” are marijuana products. Ooops, did I just say that? Hollywood has a bit of a rep for extreme partying, for a lifestyle of too many pills, alcohol, and drugs. Now that marijuana has been legalized in California I thought someone’s “Bag” might be the first place it would show up. So I’m happy they’ve shown restraint. I’m not very happy about marijuana, legal or not. Legalization has opened up a host of dangers for my patients, mostly the dogs.  As a veterinarian, I am appalled at the people who, through carelessness or on purpose, allow it to be shared with their pets. Over the years I have cared for several dogs that were “stoned”. Marijuana-laced brownies or other food items were usually the culprit, but about half the time the item was shared with the dog because their owner was high and thought their dog should be allowed to experience the same “joy”. The reason I saw the dog was because even in their fog, the owners recognized something was terribly wrong and sought emergency care for their pet.

A pet affected by marijuana toxicosis will exhibit a host of neurological abnormalities. Dogs may become so agitated they appear manic, drooling, dilated pupils, constant vocalization and walk uncoordinated. Seizures, coma and death may occur. There is no ready test at present to detect marijuana levels in a dog, so we must rely on the owner’s honest history if we are to help their pet. That said, there is also no true antidote – we must watch the dog suffer the effects, which we try to minimize and flush out the drug with IV fluids, oral charcoal, sedatives and  sometimes enemas. The active chemicals in marijuana are stored in body fat, broken down in the liver and exit the body in the feces. It can take 24 miserable hours or longer for your pet to recover. Some trip. I am not impressed.

Years ago, fatalities related to marijuana exposure were rare. Most pets ingested only small amounts of a natural plant, containing a relatively small amount of the primary psychotropic chemical THC (tetrahydrocannabinol). That is no longer true. You see, in developing medical-grade marijuana products they have synthesized and concentrated the most potent chemicals in marijuana. Pets that ingest these medical-grade products have a much higher risk of toxicity.

The American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA) is undertaking research to see if there are any medical benefits to the non-hallucinatory, non-psychotropic chemical CBD (cannabidiol) that is also found in marijuana. Could it be part of a treatment plan for problems such as arthritis in pets or epileptic seizure control? At this time there is little scientific evidence on this subject. Legitimate research has been hampered by the fact that while many State laws have legalized restricted uses for marijuana in people, the Federal Laws have not changed. Until the safety and risks of CBD products have been studied there is little advice on the subject from veterinarians. In the meantime, PLEASE prevent exposure of your pet to any THC / marijuana products !

Christine McFadden holds a license to practice veterinary medicine and surgery. She has cared for the family pets of Merced at Valley Animal Hospital for more than 30 years. Send questions or comments to drmc@mcmenagerie.com.

Saying goodbye to Mac the Mountain Lion

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

Mac the Mountain Lion died Saturday night, October 13th.

He was wearing spots when I first met him. One of two foundling cubs, Mac was the lucky one. The sibling he was cuddled against had already died. He barely weighed 5 pounds.

At the Applegate Park Zoo, the little orphan was bottle fed by Donna, the head zookeeper. We all fell in love with him. Mac created a stir when he came to the clinic for his health exams. He had a trilling call that was most like the whistle of a firework headed skyward, before the explosion. It was lovely and wild and totally magical. It was fascinating to watch him grow.

His last “kitten” vaccinations required advance strategic planning. Donna withheld his milk, bringing him in close to feeding time. I quickly jabbed him with the needle while she simultaneously dropped the bottle into his mouth — success! Although only 36 pounds on that day, his “playful” paws were already tools to be respected. In fact, in only a few short weeks he shed his spots and took up the very important cat sports of swiping, stalking, and stealth.

Donna was Mac’s first love, his “Mama”. If he heard Donna’s voice he would come running, rubbing against the fence so she could scratch behind his ears, sending out a gruff “meow” in answer to her calling his name. All day long he would “sing” to her. The noise he made as a young kitten was long gone, replaced by his loving meow or an unearthly scream.

A mountain lion is a truly magnificent animal. He is the fourth largest cat in the world. Their territory ranged across all the Americas. Deer are their preferred dinner.

A solitary and shy individual, the mountain lion is not drawn to humans and rarely seen. One of the reasons that Yosemite National Park strongly urges people not to feed deer is to prevent their unnatural accumulation which in turn attracts their natural predator — the mountain lion. If a mountain lion is lured by the prospect of an easy meal to an area heavily inhabited by people it may be seen as a threat. For the lion, it risks death as a “nuisance,” the only reason a mountain lion may be hunted or killed by man in California since 1990. The Miwok Indians, Native American people of California, described the mountain lion as the ideal hunter, strong and brave, chief among the animals (quotation from the Mountain Lion Foundation; Montijo,Y).

In late October 2016, Mac ate part of a fireman’s hose that had been given to him as a toy “scratch pad” for enrichment purposes. The little darling (Mac weighed about 140 pounds) shredded the 40 pound hose and ate it instead, forcing an abdominal surgery, a gastrotomy, to remove the obstructing foreign object from his stomach. His recovery was rapid and he continued to thrive. But Mac always had a sneaky habit of eating things he shouldn’t.

When the first call came in late Saturday morning that Mac had thrown up I wasn’t too concerned. Always on top of things, the zookeeper who called me was keeping me informed. I said I would come by later and look him over (“look” in this sense is all that I could do — without an anesthetic I couldn’t examine Mac in any physical way.

Within a few short hours it became obvious that Mac was seriously ill. Under sedation, the picture looked grave. Running a fever of 105.6, Mac was septic and shocky. Another intestinal problem. We took him to surgery. Terrible news: something had perforated Mac’s intestine. This hole through the intestinal wall allowed leakage of bowel material into his entire abdomen, creating an overwhelming infection called peritonitis.

The normally clear fluid inside the abdomen was a murky brown color, spreading infection everywhere. The prognosis was poor. But we had to try. This was Mac.

I performed an intestinal resection, removing the section of intestine that had the hole in it. We lavaged his abdomen with liter after liter of sterile warmed saline to flush out all the infection. After several hours of surgery, we prepared to recover Mac and return him to the zoo. But it was too much for him — the septic shock overtook him and he simply stopped breathing. At 12 years of age, Mac was gone. Mac’s majestic presence will be missed at our zoo.

In “Cougar: The American Lion” by Kevin Hansen, he reports that in the mythic world, the mountain lion was the protector of the cosmos. The Zui of New Mexico said that the ancient ones wanted the world to be guarded by those keen of sight and scent, and the mountain lion was the sentinel of the North. I like to think of Mac up there, protecting our cosmos, immeasurably extended over time and space, the Milky Way and far off galaxies.

Christine McFadden holds a license to practice veterinary medicine and surgery. She has cared for the family pets of Merced at Valley Animal Hospital for more than 30 years. Send questions or comments to drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Well your cat doesn’t have lice, but…

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

It is remarkable what word associations may trip in your brain.

Someone was talking about head lice in children the other day and I found myself mulling over my encounters with the louse, an ectoparsite (“ecto” pertaining to bugs found crawling around on the outside of the body, as opposed to those living in your intestine, lungs, blood or brains, which would be “endo”parasites and even scarier). Infestations with lice are called “pediculosis.”

I have had the possibly unique experience, compared to the average person, of contracting a brief case of horse lice and another of ostrich lice. In my line of work I have also been called upon to identify and treat lice on chickens, pigeons and guinea pigs. Probably the lice on the ostrich and that of the other birds was the same stuff – namely, avian lice, but I’ve never researched it at any length to determine if they might have been different between KINDS of birds. My sole concern was how to get rid of the pests. My methods have been successful for my patients.

The big message I wish to convey is that all lice are “species-specific.” What this means is that a bird louse can only live and multiply on other birds-of-a-feather. An equine louse can only thrive on horses or other equus species. Sure, they may jump onto another creature, an example being the veterinary student trimming the horse’s hooves with her head buried in its flank – but apart from running around for a few riotous minutes, once scraped off, they are of no further concern to a different species. Period. Bird lice can’t live on people, horse lice can’t live on people. Bird lice can’t live on horses. I know, I’ve tested this theory! I was not a willing participant, but I will bear witness that indeed, the louse of one kind of animal cannot live on another species. Species-specific! Promise! Big sigh of relief.

Many years ago I encountered the only case of lice I have ever seen in a cat. Her owner dropped her cat off in the morning on her way to work, stating that the cat had “bugs” and for heaven’s sake fix it because the cat slept with her.

Lice can often be seen with the naked eye and I quickly found a few on this black cat. Ensnared on some scotch tape, I examined the sample under the microscope. This was more than 25 years ago. There was no Internet to speak of, no cell phones, no Google or other search engines.

What I had was good old text books, several devoted strictly to the parasites of animals. And what showed up on the microscope didn’t look like any lice I recognized. Odd. Searching my books, I came across a photo demonstrating the finer points of the human head louse. I called Public Health. I called the owner, hesitating to discuss my findings. How to delicately convey that her cat was fine.

She was horrified. Turned out she taught first graders and there was a notice circulating that a head lice problem had cropped up in class. She realized that she had contracted it from her student and brought head lice home. I gave the cat a medicated bath, which cured the cat. And although this was one louse I avoided, it made my head itch every time I thought about it!

Christine McFadden holds a license to practice veterinary medicine and surgery. She has cared for the family pets of Merced at Valley Animal Hospital for more than 30 years. Send questions or comments to drmc@mcmenagerie.com.

Adam’s Rib

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

So our school held a softball banquet for the team. Parents were asked to provide potluck. We brought ribs. Which somehow reminded a physician friend of her med-school days and the particular anatomy class when one of her classmates suddenly realized that both male and female human beings had the same number of rib bones. Every time. He counted. He was so distraught that he had to leave the classroom. How to account for Adam’s rib?

That story put me in fine mood to remember another story which I read in a sort of can-you-believe–this column written by veterinarians for other veterinarians.

An elderly client was bereft when her cat went missing. After several months passed, she showed up at her vet’s office grinning from ear to ear, delighted to have recovered “Tiger.” The veterinarian exhibited great delicacy and restraint, gently pointing out that this couldn’t be her long lost Tiger, because her cat had been an orange tabby and this one was a black tabby. Her Tiger was an old cat and this cat was much younger, which he could tell by looking at the cat’s teeth. The woman countered his remarks with comments of being in the sun and the dental benefits of hunting mice for a living. Triumphantly, the veterinarian pointed out that this clearly wasn’t Tiger, because Tiger had been neutered and this one was an intact tomcat! His client nodded back at him, flashing a brilliant smile as she indulgently explained what had happened. Tiger had always liked to sleep on top of the television set. (Note: This story is way before “flat screen” TV’s. I suspect it had “tubes” in it and bunny ear antennae for reception, not digital mother boards. The tops of these TVs were broad and flat and warmed up nicely after a little use. Perfect for napping cats.) There was a Christian evangelist she especially enjoyed watching. She suspected that Tiger had never really liked having that neuter surgery done, and she believed his prayers were answered as he lay on top of her TV, listening to the Word of God. So, she shrugged happily, they just regrew.

Like the client who brought their mother dog into me a couple of weeks after a C-section delivery of her puppies. Her pups were doing well and, they assured me, they had been very happy with my services and skillful surgery. But, and here they paused, glancing at each other, but, Doc, you missed a puppy. I was extremely puzzled myself. This was impossible, as after delivering the puppies I had proceeded to perform an ovariohysterectomy, or spay, so had not left any reproductive tissue behind. They plopped their dog on the table and turned her onto her side, revealing a large, engorged and rather angry breast that was inflamed with infection, called mastitis. In size and shape it did look about the size of one of her newborn puppies. They believed that this “puppy” had slipped through the belly button into her breast! Only their sincerity and kindness saved my composure, as I explained what was happening and how glad I was to be able to treat the mastitis, an infection that can quickly turn ugly and is very painful.

I care for pets belonging to people from all walks of life. They come from a variety of faiths. It is humbling to be allowed to be a partner in the caregiving for their beloved pets. I do not presume to explain the myriad mysteries found in daily life. There is an art and a science to medicine. Scientifically, I know that once neutered, a cat stays neutered. I know that wasn’t the original Tiger. But I do believe in miracles. Why not?

Christine McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Cloning

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

For roughly $50,000 you can clone your favorite dog or cat. Speaking strictly for myself, I was somewhat startled. Are we there already?

Since I’m still sewing up cuts with plain old needle and thread, I find some of this high-tech stuff interesting. And amusing. And disturbing. So while I’m still healing the old fashioned way, somewhere out there veterinarians are offering to clone your pet.

They start with something as simple as a skin biopsy, a little 6 mm circle of tissue taken from your pet and carefully preserved for the genetic material found in its DNA. From this they can replicate the DNA and fuse the sample with an egg. This grows into an embryo that can be implanted into a surrogate mother. Once born you have a “clone” – a pet produced asexually from one ancestor to which they are genetically identical “twins.” A lot of this original work was being done in South Korea. There are now companies based in the United States that also offer either to preserve your pets’ DNA for future cloning or you can order up your very own clone today. In humans, identical twins result from the natural splitting of an egg in utero and both children contain identical DNA genetic makeup. Someone labeled identical twins “natural clones”?! Canine clones appear to have been the most popular pet clones requested by the public in this early work.

There’s a lot to consider here.

Say everything goes smoothly with the pregnancy and your little clone is born. Let’s name her “Clonia.” In the old nature-versus nurture-debate, right from the get-go we may have the same genetic material but it is going to be raised by another mother. That surrogate doggie mom may have been chosen for her availability as a uterus (think “animal shelter rescue”) and may not be particularly personable towards humans. And everyone, mom-dog and puppies, are living in a laboratory setting, not on Grandma’s comforter in your kids’ bedroom closet. So the first six weeks or so are not in a home environment and raise some serious questions about early socialization for the beloved Clonia. From what I could gather, responsible lab researchers provide careful monitoring to rule out abnormalities in the little clones, so many don’t go to their homes until they are several months old. Developmentally, they cannot be properly evaluated until then. This means even more time spent in a laboratory setting, coddled and cossetted, no doubt, for $50,000, but not a home. So when you do bring home your old pets’ genetic double, Clonia may not act exactly the same as her ancestor. Maybe not at all. Nurture versus nature.

And what happens to the mother dog, once she has performed her duties? This issue is clouded by lack of information. Clonia, by the way, cannot be registered with the American Kennel Club, no matter how prestigious her ancestral pedigree. Since the first dog cloned in the United States was born in February 2016, as of this writing, there isn’t a lot of information out there about “identical personalities” to the original pet. Somehow liking to chew up your sneakers or wagging your tail clockwise isn’t enough to convince me that you have reincarnated the original pet. Isn’t that really what this is all about? Clonia may not physically be an identical twin and again, her personality, shaped by very different early experiences, may be substantially different.

There are so many hearts and homes out there looking for each other that I find it hard to recommend seeking love through a clone. Would a clone of Shakespeare, father to twins Hamnet and Judith, still pen his famous works, such as “Romeo and Juliet” wherein he wrote “What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.” I suspect that that which we call a dog is each an unique individual and that the search to duplicate your beloved pet by cloning borders on smoke-and-mirrors shell games, not something sweet.

Christine McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com