It was my birthday this last week, which meant I received a years' worth of texts, phone calls and messages from friends and family. In a way, it puts me to shame, because I'm the worst person for remembering others' birthdays, but my tribe is a forgiving sort, and so year after year they continue to remember me and my day anyway.
But with one of my friends, our birthday conversation turned to our animals and the veterinary care they receive. I stated that after our current dog and cat pass away, we're going to take a break from domestic pets for awhile, in no small part due to troubles we've had with veterinarians "over-serving" us. It's a "New School" approach to treatment.
She concurred, and told me she and her husband have decided the same thing. They recently took their terminally ill dog into the emergency vet's office on a Sunday afternoon to get the dog some pain killers, since he had awoken that morning in great discomfort. Instead of just dispensing the meds, the emergency vet basically ran every test the original vet had to confirm the diagnosis (at a cost of nearly $1,000) before agreeing to dispense the pain meds. Yes, even though the tests had already been run and a diagnosis of a terminal liver tumor had been confirmed, the emergency vet insisted he had to run all his own tests before agreeing to provide pain medication to the dog, who was clearly old and suffering.
Here's an example another friend of mine recently experienced: She has a cat that appeared to have a bladder infection -- urinating constantly, seemingly in discomfort. I happen to know her Old School vet personally, and worked for him for a time. I know for a fact he would have seen the cat, done a general physical exam and then sent Kitty home with some antibiotics, telling my friend that if the cat was not improved in three days to return for more testing. And with 98 percent cats, the antibiotics would do the trick.
Unfortunately, my friend saw a New School Vet. New School Vet saw Kitty and ordered up a complete blood panel, a urinalysis, a kidney ultrasound and an overnight at the animal hospital before diagnosing a bladder infection and, you guessed it, sending Kitty home with the same antibiotics Old School Vet would have given her.
Old School Vet's treatment plan would have cost about $65. New School Vet's protocol cost about $1,000. My friend is a senior citizen on a fixed income, and this devastated her financially for the month. Yet both scenarios ($65 versus $1,000) end with the same result -- Kitty going home with antibiotics and getting better.
The problem is that New School Vets take advantage of us by 1) blocking the way to treatment by demanding extensive testing, and 2) preying on the responsibility we feel towards our household pets. And honestly, it's gotten to a point where I no longer feel comfortable having a pet in a vulnerable state where both of us can be taken advantage of.
So while we'll continue to keep chickens and other small livestock, we'll probably be taking a pass on any animal that may someday require a trip to the small-animal vet. Because you just never know anymore if you're going to get Old School or New School, and while I appreciate that both probably think they are doing the best for their four-footed patients, New School Vets leave me feeling victimized at a time when both me and my best animal friend are in distress -- a time when our only option is to trust the doctor we see. And with Old School Vets hitting their senior years themselves and retiring, we're going to see more and more New School Vets on the scene.
Not a good scenario for either ourselves or the house pets we love.
When I was at the veterinarian's this morning getting Sputnik his rabies shot the receptionist let me know that it had been almost a year since he'd been in (he'd torn his ACL ligament last year and was in a couple of times for that) and wanted to know if I was ready to schedule his "annual wellness exam."
Say what?
I dread going to the vet's because of this stuff. There is always something more they try to sell you. Flea control. Science Diet dog food. Heartworm meds...and now a "wellness examination." The vets I used to see in the San Joaquin Valley were even worse. Wellness exams always included extensive bloodwork and urinalysis, which cost hundreds of dollars in addition to the regular office visit cost. And of course, if you refused, there was always a not-so-subtle guilt trip, even if it was just a slight shake of the head as the doctor or receptionist took notes in your pet's file -- CHEAP ASS OWNER is probably what it said.
Vaccinations are another way animals get way over-treated and their owners get overcharged at the vet's office. If you search online, you can find many reputable veterinary resources with research which indicates that once your dog or cat has received his first set of booster vaccinations, at about two years of age, further vaccinations are completely unnecessary and can even be detrimental to your pet's health. They have total immunity at that point, or at least as much as they will ever have. Yet there the veterinary industry is, scaring you with stories about dogs who have gotten Parvo or Corona virus at an advanced age. Yes, it happens. But not with vaccinated dogs. Vaccinations provide lifetime immunity with dogs just as they do with us humans.
In the end, I was actually the one who suggested a basic blood panel (liver and kidney function, plus red and white blood counts) before Sputnik went under anesthesia for his teeth cleaning in a couple of weeks, because he's five years old and it's just the prudent thing to do since he's never had a blood draw before. And once I told them I was not interested in any vaccinations other than what was required by law (rabies) and could do my own flea control, they backed off and we had a pleasant visit.
But I'm sad that I always have to be the one to play gatekeeper on my pocketbook during a medical appointment such as this. I worked briefly as a vet assistant one summer and once I tell the doctor that, they usually switch from salesperson to medical professional once again, but I shouldn't always have to play that card, and I feel sorry for the people who can't.
One of these dogs is inside today because she tried to scale our fence during the storm and got caught before running off into the underbrush. Perhaps there was a single clap of thunder that scared her. Or maybe someone just rolled their garbage can down their driveway to the road. Or there could have been a supernova, in a distant galaxy somewhere. Sigh. I admit it. We have a neurotic dog.
Yes, our rugged outdoor "working" border collie -- bred to be hardy and stalwart, but in reality a big bundle of over-bred crazy who probably needs a daily doggie xanax prescription -- is the crazy half of this canine dynamic duo. Look at the expressions on their faces.
Hers: "Oh pleeeeeze don't put me outside where there are loud noises, strange people and mysterious scents I don't understand! Oh gosh, I know you're gonna put me out! Nooooo!"
His: "Oh. You're here. Did you bring treats?"
The differences in their two distinct personalities just proves that no matter how strange your personality, whatever your quirks and odd habits you may have, when you come here, you're accepted, as is.
At least that's what I like to tell myself anyway, as I'm running down the road in the rain with my leash, in search of an inbred purebred dog with a clear case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Or when I'm doling out treats to a football-shaped Jack Russell Terrier, who has elevated sleeping on the sofa for hours to a kind of high art.
Accepting. Oh, ya. That's one word for it, anyway.
