Stories

Talking Birds

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

Dr Mc Blog

May 26, 2014

Now birds are an altogether different sort of animal. It goes beyond having feathers instead of fur – they are NOT mammals. And somehow “animals” and “mammals” share a bunch of “m’s” and the words start to sound the same and it all becomes very confusing. So let’s get back to the basics – birds are NOT mammals. Ignoring the occasional exception to the rule, it’s kind of interesting that birds have feathers instead of fur, have scales and claws instead of pads and paws, fly much better than they walk or run, and lay eggs instead of giving live birth to their young. Baby mammals receive nourishment from their mother’s milk. Birds regurgitate already chewed up food into their babies crops! Ewww! Science fiction come to life! The crop is a modified stomach, though birds do have a true stomach called the proventriculus, and a gizzard or ventriculus for heavy duty grinding of food. If we narrow bird-dom down to the parrot family we find a group of birds that are highly companionable, brightly colored, and can even talk human! Research with an African Grey parrot named Alex at ASU University demonstrated he could think and figure things out at the level of about a 3 year old child. If you haven’t spent time with a toddler lately, watch out! For example, Alex could differentiate not just a wooden key from a metal key, but a green, square wooden key. Parrots are noted for the use of “tools” such as sticks to obtain food, a sign of higher intelligence.

Although veterinarians traditionally receive training in a wide number of species, from companion dogs and cats to livestock cattle and horses, they are all mammals. Birds are very different. Birds don’t even have normal lungs, but do most of their breathing through cellophane-like little bags throughout their body called air sacs. Some of these air sacs invade the larger wing and leg bones (pneumatic bones), which keeps bone density lighter and helps to deliver oxygen directly where needed for long flights. Pretty amazing!

Since I have been known to say that I have a license to practice medicine and surgery on every living species on earth, with one exception (you), it’s probably obvious that it is the diversity of working with birds that makes them fascinating. Parrots in particular, large and small, are so interactive that they are a joy to study. Sylvester Stallone referred to parakeets as “flying candy” in one of his movies. Of course, working with them up close and personal brings certain features to the forefront. Like beaks. They all come with them and yes, they all bite. That little 30 gram parakeet can dig just so into your cuticle and the lumbering Macaw, a 2 to 3 pound parrot (454 grams to the pound) is capable of breaking fingers. We treat them all with respect.

Birds are adaptable. One of my staff, Amanda, recalled a little bird that had crippled legs. Her owner wrapped the bird in a little shirt with a piece of Velcro, and herself had a broad patch she had sewn onto her clothes. Sure enough, the little bird could fly around, then return to her owner via her personal landing pad.

And if you thought kids say the darnedest things, try birds. Say one bad word once (chances are you said it loudly and with energy) and the bird has it nailed forever. One client taught his Amazon to say “Let me outta here!”  I wasn’t aware of this until the bird boarded with us. This was in a small clinic where the ward rooms were very near the exam rooms. Sound carried. You can imagine the look on my clients face – and mine – when suddenly someone started to scream “Let me outta here! Let me outta here!” I actually had to show a few people that indeed it was a talking bird before I could calm them down (the bird thought he was hysterical – we began to feed him special treats about a half hour before afternoon calls to occupy his little mind).

My favorite story of all, though, centers around a woman staff member who opened the clinic early Saturdays. Pat loved her job and usually rushed down extra early to be the first one there, so she was by herself that day, walking from room to room as she checked on patients. She had just turned on the lights as she entered one ward and was crossing the room to open another when behind her she heard a soft voice say “I know what you like”. The hair rose at the back of her neck and she froze – just as the Mynah bird screeched “bananas!” Bananas indeed. Took about 5 years off Pat’s life and we had to post a sign after that warning everyone when that particular bird stayed with us.

 

Christine B. McFadden, DVM
Valley Animal Hospital, Merced
drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Close Associations

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

Dr Mc Blog

May 8, 2014

So you think it would be nice to have a veterinarian in the family? Sort of like deciding to take a family vacation by car, this sort of expressed wish is not made with a full deck. Close association with a veterinarian would bring you to your senses.

Veterinarians are lousy companions at dinner. First, I always forget that when someone asks me how my day went, they don’t REALLY want to know. I’m usually well into the second abscess or the ruptured intestine before I realize this, however, and by then I’ve spoiled someone’s appetite for the creamed soup. A veterinarian’s sense of humor is distorted, too. I’ve been at dinner tables where a veterinarian felt compelled to name the steak by its place of origin. Hard to feel the same about your meal after that. And those emergency calls that come so inconveniently! In my case, when invited as a guest, it seems someone always has a constipated kitten to discuss in vivid detail, usually on a phone adjacent to the dining room. Whispering about constipation can make people on both ends of the line think you’re weird.

And don’t forget: veterinarians aren’t trained to do much else. I may be able to place a metal pin in the shaft of a broken bone but don’t ask me to hammer a picture hangar into the wall. When someone talks about using a stud finder I automatically direct them to the local kennel club.

We’ve been known to bring sick animals home and plant them in the bathroom for observation. If the spouse forgets this in the middle of the night some unpleasantness may ensue. How many heads roll depends on whether the spouse stepped in the dog’s poop or just flat out took a flier over the darned thing into the nearest wall.

If you still think you’d like a vet in the family year-round, consider these stories: Much to her mother’s distress, I know a veterinarian (not me) who sewed up the hem on her bridesmaid dress with 2-0 suture using a simple interrupted pattern. And another who went to a Halloween party in a brown paper bag with plastic baggies of mayonnaise stapled to it – he was an abscess. Though veterinarians may not come home covered in grease, expensive 3-piece suits are also out and what they do wear is often covered in muck (I can be more precise). At the end of the day, many a vet feels as if they could substitute for the local fire hydrant.

And finally, what family would rush to take in someone who talks to animals (in public!)? This explains why so few full-fledged veterinarians are adopted – most of us started out in normal, unsuspecting families and by the time they knew where we were headed it was too late.

P.S. Both my mother and husband accept care packages.

 

Christine B. McFadden, DVM
drmc@mcmenagerie.com

 

Humor On The Job

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

Dr Mc Blog

May 4, 2014

After years of working together my staff has a few stories to tell.

Like about the crazy cat that bolted from her carrier like a wild thing (“oh, I should have told you she’s never been touched before. We had to put her food in there to catch her….”) and raced across the hospital to seek refuge in the staff break room. And jumped up onto the microwave. Which was in use, warming up some hot cocoa. In her distress the cat released her bladder…which dribbled into the microwave…which smoked and fizzled….and smelled. Probably forever, we don’t really know. We threw it out that very day. Some things you just don’t try to fix. (Except the cat. We “fixed” her. She did great!).

Or the day I gave up Ostrich Practice. Ostriches live in large fields like cows. They aren’t trained to lead on halters, you’re supposed to wait until one comes up to the fence to bite you out of curiosity, grab its’ beak and swiftly pull a cut-off sweatshirt sleeve over their head – once blinded, they won’t move (I’m not kidding. I’ve really done this. Past tense). It was raining and very muddy, and this particular ostrich, though injured from a dog attack and “down”, struggled rather fiercely against the examination so that I had to straddle him for restraint. Among other problems the ostrich had lice and shared some with me. I stopped off at the clinic long enough to glare at my staff, cancel my morning, and go home to clean up. Good news? Lice are “species-specific” parasites, meaning an ostrich louse may be able to run around on a person briefly but it can’t live and breed on you, so once picked off you’re clean. This is true for all types of louse or lice.

Then there was the episode of the Peach Parrot with diarrhea. A Moluccan Cockatoo weighing about 2 ½ pounds, “Peaches” was brought in because of the large puddles of poop she was passing, instead of the neat white and green droppings most birds have. Peaches was droopy and had lost weight, quietly squawking in pain when another puddle flowed out. She was ill enough that we hospitalized her while waiting for some lab test results to come back. Early the next morning I approached my patient in her incubator to see how she had fared overnight. Surprisingly, her bedding was clean. How could her diarrhea have cleared up overnight?  Hmmm. As much as I wish to see a strong response to treatment there was no real way to tell if the diarrhea had improved until I actually saw her droppings. Some birds will not go to the bathroom in their cage and will literally “hold it” until taken out in the morning.  I needed to see her fecal droppings. Hmmm. I examined the incubator floor again, noting a lot of cracked seed shells and some chewed up grapes. What goes in must come out, right? Now, I know a thing or two about birds and I know that most birds will defecate when picked up. So I opened the lid of the incubator, speaking gently to the bird while asking her to perch on my arm. I picked her up. Forgetful that the bird was fully flighted. Bird knew it. Bird took off. Peaches flew straight towards Jillian standing a few feet away. Jillian shrieked and dropped to the ground (anyone remember Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”?). And, OF COURSE the bird flew right to her, landing on her prostrate back as Jillian buried her face in the floor (so the bird couldn’t pick out her eyeballs? Parrots don’t do that!). During the flapping and shrieking I attempted to reassure Jillian by yelling across the space “It’s ok, the bird’s nice!” (she was scaring my patient). Jillian remained (rather rigidly) face down, so I swooped over and re-perched the bird to return her to the incubator. Over my shoulder I heard a staff member assisting Jillian to her feet exclaim “Oh, let me clean that poop off!” I wheeled around and shouted “Wait! I need that!” Faces swiveled and stared at me. Dumbfounded, unbelieving silence. I faced them weakly. “I really need that sample” I begged, sort of inching my way towards the still crouched form of my employee. “Um, thanks” I said as I wielded a tongue depressor to obtain the desired sample.  To this day not a one of them glories in the case assistance given to help this bird. Jillian says she’s forgiven me but I noticed they moved the incubator far away from her work station.

Christine McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Fatso

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Dr Mc Blog

May 1, 2014

Would anyone be interested in starting a gym for dogs? Instead of tight shorts and weight lifting equipment we could sponsor sequined collars and encourage exercises like the “biscuit stretch”.

In todays’ world the working dog is almost a thing of the past – the majority of our pets have only to fight their way out of bed in the morning to get to the food bowl. For many of them, grateful to get a daily walk, the widely promoted high protein foods are not necessary. An incessant bombardment of dog jerky and canine biscuits, table scraps and cocktail peanuts “rounds out” many a pets daily diet….and doesn’t do much for their health.

They waddle in. Some of the smallest breeds can still be carried in. A few you expect to see float in, sort of doggie balloons propped above toothpick legs like the carnival mans’ balloon-on-a stick. The owner usually aw-shucks, Doc, we just love her (or him) so much.

You’re going to love them to death.

Yes, dogs have problems like high cholesterol, fatty liver disease, pancreatitis, heart disease and joint degeneration (arthritis) related to obesity. The rise of diabetes mellitus or sugar diabetes  in dogs and cats has alarmed veterinarians across the nation and is believed to be partly attributable to overweight conditions. Every pet that comes in for an exam is now recommended to receive a Body Condition Score (BCS), meant to sound an alarm if the pet is too heavy or, rarely, too thin.

So let’s discuss fat. Fat is looking at your dog and not seeing the curvy indentation in front of the rear legs and hips that we call a “waist”. Fat is groping over your dogs’ chest searching in vain for a rib. Fat is obvious. Deciding on the correct weight for your dog is less obvious. I recommend to take a few pounds off and look at your dog. It can be that simple. One guideline is the ability to feel the ribs easily, with a thin layer of fat covering them.

How to take the pounds off? The secret will disappoint you: less calories, more exercise. On a weight reduction program your dog can lose up to 1 pound a week. Toy breeds may set a goal of 1 pound weight loss per month. Your veterinarian can guide you safely in this area. It is true that some dogs can suffer from thyroid gland disorders that predispose towards obesity. Some medications can cause weight gain as a side effect. Older dogs may have health problems that preclude dieting. For these reasons dogs with severe weight problems or on medication should be examined first by their veterinarian.

One of my favorite success stories was watching a 45 pound dachshund reduce to a healthy 22 pounds. She did require the aid of a balanced prescription reducing diet, but she came through with flying colors! She acted years younger, cavorting around, full of pep and energy. Her family was wonderfully supportive, despite an embarrassing incident. At the height of her diet, the owners of Greta entertained their minister to a small luncheon. Conversation flowed, congeniality reigned. Suddenly the jaws of the Dieting Dachshund lept out, snatching the ministers’ sandwich from his very lips. Just as quickly she disappeared again. Shaken, the good man left soon after. Word has it that she never repented.

Christine B. McFadden, DVM

drmc@mcmenagerie.com

My Own Christmas Holiday Moment…

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / 1 Comment

So I’ll tell you how it all happened. This morning started with frozen water in my chickens’ feeder. I’m in a hurry (always), so I punch through the ice with my tippy fingers so Goldy and pals can have a drink and then hurry out to the car. My fingers are cold and hurt. The workday starts at the Applegate Zoo. We’re working in the deer pen today, a beautiful crisp, clear – and frigid – day. The new baby fawn is a dark chocolate color and in good health. But what with one thing and another I am running late. And my fingers are still very cold. So I suggest to my assistant, Tim, that we stop at the local Starbucks for a hot chocolate. What I’m late for back at the Clinic is mostly elective surgeries, so at worse I work through my lunch hour – no pets health is adversely affected. And I’m going to be chastised for being late regardless of whether I’m 15 minutes late or 25 minutes late. AND I’m very cold – did I mention that?

So I track down the local Starbucks. Find a parking spot RIGHT IN FRONT of the store! Lucky! Uhh-oh – no money. But handily I have Tim with me, and I beg for a loan (my treat, of course!).  Tim kindly agrees to cover me and in we go. Where I have to explain to the over-worked young man behind the counter that I don’t drink coffee (or frequent Starbucks) but I need something hot to warm up and do they have a hot chocolate with a hint of coffee flavor – decaf! – please? He authoritatively recommends and orders something for me, continuing on to explain and detail some drivel about taking a customer satisfaction survey after our order, with a bonus (!) coupon for some future visit. It involves computers. Fat chance. I’m not returning any time soon.

Tim places his order. That will be eight dollars and thirty cents. Tim hands over his card. Which doesn’t work. Twice. Uhh-oh. I mumble something about credit card payment over the phone? (I can call the Clinic, have someone go through my purse, call them back with my card number…). Nah, they’ve heard that scam before. I duck my head down and start to step out of line. But the nice young man behind the counter waves us down the aisle to pick up our order. What? He tells us the drinks are on him. WHAAAAT?

I assure him we will return to pay – he assures me that’s not necessary.

Our warm drinks, handmade (!) are delivered into our waiting hands. My fingers are instantly grateful. Ahhhh, warmth! With profuse thank-you’s, we slink out (thief!)… casually exiting the store to walk over to our, uh… Jag… and drive off.

Back at work, I fish a $20 bill out of my purse. This guy was extraordinary! I send Tim right back with the money and I jump into work. Tim returns. Apparently when he walked into the store to give our offering, the young man tried to refuse it. Tim insisted that he accept, saying he couldn’t return to work otherwise. He handed over the bill – and as he turned to leave, ran smack into a display shelf, knocking it over and sending a hundred items flying (Non-breakable! Luckily!). The portable shelf disintegrated into bits of pegs and plastic. Tim began to try to gather everything up. They asked him to please leave. Apparently we’d done enough for one day.

Thank you, Adrian of Starbucks! I was going to try to find that customer satisfaction form… but that requires a receipt… which you don’t get when you don’t pay for your drink. Instead, may I wish you a Merry Christmas! From my warmed fingers to your warm heart!

Let’s talk PDA’s…

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / 1 Comment

Dr Mc Blog

So back in 2003 I started to date this guy that had been an attorney, and was now doing the family law judging in town. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I had happily stereotyped lawyers a long time ago, and though I even knew a few I’d call friend and neighbor, still… you know what I mean? But this man was genuinely nice, we’d been introduced through mutual friends, and on this particular evening he had invited me to a very nice Italian restaurant north of town. We muddled through a few topics during the appetizer, and just as the soup and salad course arrived it became difficult to overlook an overly affectionate couple at the next table. I shook my head and looked away. My date re-focused my attention on him, saying with enthusiasm “we need to discuss that!” I shook my head again, dismayed. “Discuss what?”

“PDA’s”, he said.

I stared, riveted in place. My jaw literally dropped. Patent Ductus Arteriosus?!? He had my full attention while I marveled at the RANGE of this man. In seconds I was reliving my first case in vet school, which involved a mother goat and her kid. The youngster was born with a heart defect, Patent Ductus Arterioisus or PDA. The condition is not that uncommon in newborns of any species: an embryonic blood vessel that bypasses the lungs while circulating blood through the heart in the unborn fetus (no air to breathe inside the womb!), it is supposed to close up just before birth. If this particular blood vessel or duct doesn’t close completely, you can hear a swooshy abnormal heart sound, or murmur, in the newborn and most importantly, if the retained embryonic vessel is very large, it will continue to bypass the lungs and the baby may not receive enough oxygenated blood! This can be a life- threatening condition. Happily, most will close on their own within 2 weeks of birth. I still encounter this condition occasionally in young puppies and kittens, and have even had to refer tiny patients to cardiac surgeons for life saving surgery.

It is an intense situation when encountered- and here was my date, delving deep into such an intense subject on a first date!

“Wow,” I said, leaning forward, now fully engaged in this conversation, “What did you want to talk about, when have you encountered this?”

“Well,” he gestured, “on dates.”

“Dates? Your dates have had heart problems?”

“What?”

We were both now staring at each other- (remember, this is early days, when you still give the benefit of the doubt to each other- you know, he seems like he can walk and chew gum at the same time; she appears to be able to navigate a room without falling off her heels – you are charitable). But?!?

I waded in again. “Aren’t you talking about Patent Ductus Arteriosus? A heart murmur in newborns?”

The man who would become my husband glared back, “No, I’m talking about Public Displays of Affection!”

Silence again as we contemplated each other.

“Oh. I’ve never heard of that before.” I mumbled, ” What kind of public displays of affection did you have in mind?”

Never mind. The zest for the topic was gone, and we segued into other, safer conversation.

Christine McFadden, DVM
drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Summer Hiatus

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / 1 Comment

So all the plans for blogs, journaling and the excitement of a new web page were swept away – drowned, actually – in the wake of disturbance created by our new computer program! Indeed, summer seemed to get swept away. I have yet to find that computers are great time savers, though there is no denying that for retrieval of history they are awesome. As long as you input the data to begin with, that is. Oh. So having wrestled the new software into submission (we submitted, actually), we are now back at it. Hello, Blog!

And right there with us have been the chickens. So I conceived a wonderful idea (note light bulb over my head on your next visit): let’s get chickens! I have a small fruit tree orchard at home and am opposed to spraying pesticides and have noted over the years the slow but steady increase of insect varieties amongst my trees. Nothing terribly serious (until the cherry fruit fly moved in) but the trend was disturbing – I’m willing to share my fruit, but the bugs appeared to have their own agenda. And I’m not an entomologist! I’m saving my love for the pets! Hence nature’s little natural bug factory: chickens! Bonus: eggs!

Did you know they mail order day old chicks? They arrived at the post office safely, little peepers! A mixed variety of unusual breeds, all girly chicks because we only wanted “baking eggs” like you buy at the grocery store. No danger of cracking into the kind that might hatch… no need to traumatize children or ME. So we set up the little sweethearts and watched them GROW every DAY. It was amazing!

They got their own little coop and an exercise yard and fresh greens every day and… and… the incidental expenses can be overwhelming! But we really enjoyed our chicks in the Summer of the Computer and found their feathered baby antics quite soothing. It was a family affair – we took deck chairs out back to watch them. So I am now heartily recommending adding a few chickens to your yard – and once those eggs start coming, let me know if you’d like a few “baking eggs” – they’re a special kind that every family needs.

Christine McFadden, DVM

Pedicures For Pooches And Winged Critters

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Just a short note today. Had a bird in last week with nails curling back into his feet. We see the same problem in dogs, and to a lesser extent in some cats (cat nails grow differently- instead of continuous growth, they grow and shed the tips intact, with tiny new tips or sheaths underneath). So there’s always the question of HOW to trim nails, and sometimes WHY they over-grow.
For many dogs and birds, their nail tips may be lightly clipped with a “human” nail trimmer. If the nail itself is white, you may be able to see the pink vein inside and avoid cutting into it, or  “quicking” the nail and making it bleed. BUY yourself some “QuickStop” at the pet supply store, so if a nail does bleed you can stop it by simply pressing a dab of quick stop powder hard into the end. The bleeding itself isn’t a big deal – your dog or bird will not die! It may be more uncomfortable, and I think the styptic powder stings a tad, but sometimes it’s necessary to cut a nail back hard to get things under control.
If a birds nails curl, the bird may be unable to perch! I have also seen dogs that are nearly crippled by curled nails that turn their toes sideways and splay their foot apart! A proper pedicure (sans nail polish) is important to a pets health!
Older dogs with arthritis are especially prone to foot problems and benefit from regular nail trims and shaping. Dogs can develop fungal infections of the nail and weeping infections in the nail bed and tissue that surrounds the toe. Overgrown nails are prone to cracks, splitting, and fractures- which can be so painful that I recommend a mild anesthetic when we repair them (think about digging out a deep splinter!).
One myth I find aggravating on the pets behalf is that cutting a nail back slowly (in stages over a few days) into the quick, causes the vein to recede. The idea is that multiple trims will eventually get the nail to the desired short length without significant bleeding. Let’s walk through this idea (flip flops are fine, hiking boots not required). If you get a paper cut on your finger, it bleeds. The miracle of clotting platelets occurs. You stop bleeding. Within a matter of hours, even if you irritate the same site, it won’t bleed again because the little vessels have naturally retracted! Same with nails! Instead of torturing your pet with every-other-day trims, get it over with once, then maintain regularly!
Regular pedicures vary from pet to pet. Some may need monthly attention, others quarterly . Stay tuned for our soon-to-be-released YouTube how-to video on this subject! Guaranteed seriously good info and hilarious delivery!

Are We Communicating, Doctor?

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National Veterinary Technician Week

As a veterinarian I have been called upon to explore deeply into the human psyche. They never told me about this in vet school. My instructors cautioned against saying “oops” in the exam room, and pulling the ears too tightly on a pug-nosed bulging-eye breed of toy dog lest the eyeballs pop out (and yes, do you know it’s true? But I won’t tell about that one.). No, my teachers fell short in preparing me for the Late-Night-Emergency-Phone-Caller.

How would you respond to this call at quarter to eleven in the P.M., deep into REM sleep?

Veterinarian, “Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor? Meow, meow, meow. That’s what my kitty is saying. Meow, meow, meow…” (OK, I stopped counting. It went on for some time.) The voice on the telephone drew breath finally (one can only imagine her capacity under water), then queried, “Do you know what it is, Doctor?” I confess that I was at a diagnostic loss.

Then there was the time that an owner telephoned and wanted me to tell them if their pet was dead. The difficulty was that I had never seen their dog, and it was laying in their living room at home. Quoting a story from the “National Enquirer”, they were convinced that the pet was catatonic and might be buried alive. Convinced as they were, the question was surprisingly difficult to field. I’m ashamed to say that I finally told them to place the dog in a box and if it still hadn’t moved the next day or so I felt it would be okay to bury. Catatonic dogs were something else they didn’t discuss in vet school. It’s a subject I plan to take up with the dean.

Christine McFadden, DVM
DrMc@mcmenagerie.com

Freshman

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I remember so well my beginnings at Davis. Being accepted to veterinary school was a dream come true. Large parties were held in my honor. My parents bragged. I bragged. I found an apartment in Davis, bought some new clothes, and picked up a set of dishes from the local grocery store with a large quantity of stamps I’d saved (remember those thick china plates you could save up for with stamps from your purchases?). I got a chair from the Salvation Army at an incredible price because it leaned a little to one side when you reclined in it, and I took the formica kitchen table my parents had when they were starting out. Obviously I was ready for vet school. I rented a U-Haul truck and managed to cram everything in and still close the doors. Everything except a car.

My mother, bless her heart, had the perfect solution. She presented me with a bicycle. Now Davis, as you may know, considers itself the Bicycle Capitol of the world. However, I have not been an avid fan of this form of exercise since age 10. But a bicycle it was to be. My mother didn’t understand why I had to have a French-built ten speed when there was a perfectly good used bicycle next door, rescued baskets and all from the Wicked Witch of the West just as she was riding by with Toto (Surely you recall that bicycle?). I can’t remember if I cried or not when I saw it. I was to go forth and conquer the world on THAT? To start my illustrious career on a bicycle that had a seat broad enough for my bottom and a revolting little bell that went ding-ding? My mother made room for it in the U-Haul, shut the doors and waved me off. The woman had a heart of stone.

These meek beginnings did not prevent me from throwing myself into the wonders of veterinary school. One of my first classes was Anatomy. The class spanned most of the first year and went on for hours. When a client comments “But there are so many different animals to learn” I can only give a surly nod. Spend six months minutely dissecting all the differences, then see how you feel. (In veterinary medicine, as elsewhere, everyone has their own opinion. Two years later a teaching surgeon interrupted my gabble of muscle identification during an exploratory to mutter “you can name it and cut it or you can just cut it!” So much for six months of study).

I acquired a cat and then a dog during my first year. I was given a couch. I traded in my mothers bicycle for a ten speed of obscure origin that I rode in one gear anyway, and eventually got a car. It was a good year and a good introduction to a profession that has never disappointed me.

Christine McFadden, DVM
drmc@mcmenagerie.com