Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Please Stop Leaving Animals on Roadways

In the past two weeks at least five dogs have been abandoned near the intersection of Highway 41 and County Road N in the Town of Eldorado. Two of these dogs were exceptionally frightened and not easily rescued from the edge of the busy roadway. The most recently captured canine is recuperating in my veterinary clinic after receiving two terrible blows from tranquilizing darts today.
My staff has named her Penelope. She is fighting for her life. I am very angry.
Monday throughout the day, numerous clients reported seeing a dog on the side of the road a short distance from the clinic. Our local animal control officer was on the scene, offering food and attempting to lasso the terrified dog. All her attempts to lure or leash the stray failed, and at one point during the day the stray disappeared from the scene. This morning we received notice that law enforcement (who had been involved in the previous day's unsuccessful rescue efforts) had requested the aid of tranquilizer darts to finally secure the stray. By this point a young lady had been sitting on the shoulder in the December drizzle for hours trying to befriend the stray with treats. Her hands were red and puffy from the cold; the stray was as uncatchable as ever.
With veterinary assistant Ashley at the ready with a rabies pole, the officer carefully selected his smallest dart and fired the tranquilizer, hitting the stray squarely in the
Dr. Kim Everson providing care for timid Penelope, the darted stray dog found near St. Bernard's Animal Medical Center
Dr. Kim Everson providing care for timid Penelope, the darted stray dog found near St. Bernard's Animal Medical Center
hindquarters. Adrenaline, fear and pain surged through the dog. She was not going to succumb without a fight. She leapt up and frantically sought an escape. Officers and bystanders shouted and argued about what to do next. Anxiety about harming the dog competed with terror that she might cause a tragic traffic accident if she ran into the highway. As she clambered up the gravel underpass leading to the median between northbound and southbound lanes of Highway 41, another dart was fired which hit her in the abdomen just behind the ribcage. Her momentum carried her into Ashley's miraculously well-placed rabies pole loop. Secured, she finally dropped into a stupor allowing the officers to crate her for transport to my veterinary clinic.
On arrival the dog was dazed and bleeding lightly from two gaping dart wounds. After carefully arranging her in a warm, clean kennel, we discovered that she had a deceivingly deep wound into her abdomen from the dart. Although clinically stable, resting well and closely monitored, the poor dog may indeed be mortally wounded. Only time will tell if this stray has enough spirit to survive. She certainly has had the spirit to bewitch me and my staff --with her gentle brown eyes and slow-thumping tail. Even if she doesn't pull through, she now has a name--Penelope--and a legacy--this blog.
Penelope's sad story has inspired me to set down in writing the frequently repeated laments of the past few weeks. I do this in hopes of preventing a similar scene in the future.
1) If you find you can no longer care for your animal, PLEASE do not leave it on the side of the road. You may believe or hope your animal will be observed and rescued from the roadway, and many times they are. But the risk to animal and humans is tremendous. The obvious risk is the animal will be hit by a car and die. Most drivers faced with hitting an animal will swerve, increasing the chance of human casualty. A less obvious safety hazard involves potential rescuers on the shoulder or in the roadway. These Good Samaritans are often ill-equipped to control the flow of traffic and are far more focused on the animal than on their own safety.
2) While relinquishing an unwanted animal directly to a shelter incurs a sizable societal debt, abandoning an animal on the roadway exponentially increases the cost of care. Over the past 24 hours a number of private citizens and public servants spent considerable time, energy and taxpayer dollars trying to coax Penelope into captivity. Some readers may suggest these loose animals should be destroyed immediately to save time and money. However, we live in a day and age when such violence causes substantial outrage. I believe most people prefer a reasonable effort be made to safely secure a stray animal alive even though the cost is higher than a bullet.
3) While it is commendable that so many citizens want to lend a hand, recent events suggest that if there is already at least one person on the scene working to win the confidence of the animal it would be better to say a little prayer for her success and drive on. Several times during the attempted capture of Penelope and another timid dog in recent weeks, a well-meaning person stopped by the scene to offer advice or lend a hand--just as the leash was about to be tightened. The presence of the new person reliably startled the dog, thwarting the rescuer's best efforts up to that point far and making it that much more difficult to catch the dog.
4) The rescue, care and rehoming of abandoned animals takes a lot of time, money and effort. Someone has to pay for it and it is not always clear who that person or entity is. Many people volunteer their time and expertise to help homeless animals, but food, shelter, and medicines take money. The best assurance an unwanted animal will receive proper care and find a new home is by surrendering it to the proper authority--an animal shelter. Even if you can't be on the front line catching stray dogs, you can help in an even bigger way by donating time, money and supplies to your local animal shelter.
5) The dogs found recently near our intersection have all been puppies or adolescents. Some appear to have been littermates. It is not hard to believe someone might be overwhelmed by the cost of properly caring for two or more unexpected puppies. The answer is canine contraception! Let us make an increased effort to spay and neuter our pets to reduce the number of unwanted animals out there in the world.
If this story has a silver lining it is that for every unthinking jerk who abandons an animal on the roadway there are countless concerned citizens who will endure discomfort and inconvenience on behalf of this unknown friendless animal.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Full Circle: A First Responder Invitation

It was about 8:00 pm on a mild December night. I had just steeped a cup of Tension Tamer tea and had serious plans to finally fold the laundry when two Town of Eldorado First Responders began pounding on my door. After corralling my four-legged body guard (an American Bulldog named Guppy), I opened the door unsure what was about to unfold.
Car crash scene near exit 106, Town of Eldorado. Photo reprinted with permission of Carlos Munoz Jr.
Car crash scene near Highway 41, Town of Eldorado. Photo reprinted with permission, Carlos Munoz Jr.
"There's been a car accident over there," the female First Responder rushed, jerking her head in the direction of flashing lights and sirens across Highway 41. She wore a helmet, heavy coat and reflective gear. A rumbling truck with flashing lights waited behind her. "A dog was in one of the trucks and was thrown around the vehicle. We don't know if it's hurt. Could you come and take a look?"
Immediately my mind began running through the possible scenarios of what I might find and how I could help. I looked down at my clothing. I was still wearing a dress and tights from attending a family funeral earlier that day. "Let me throw something else on," I said and ran upstairs to whip on jeans and a sweatshirt, a hat and winter boots.
Both First Responders waited at the truck for me. "Do you want to bring your own car," one asked.
"Actually, I need a lift. I don't have a car tonight," I answered.
Quickly I unlocked my clinic and hurried about gathering the first things that came to mind: stethoscope, otoscope/ophthalmoscope set (it'll serve as a flashlight if nothing else, I thought), a slip leash, towel and several muzzles in different sizes. I had no idea what kind of dog I was going to encounter or in what degree of pain. It would certainly be afraid. My hastily grabbed items felt inadequate, but I reminded myself that my job tonight was to assess a trauma patient and possibly preparing a pet for transport to an emergency facility. In any event, we could bring the dog back to my clinic for a better assessment and stabilization once it was removed from the scene. These doubts and rationalizations flitted through my mind rapid-fire as I clambered into the truck.
As we bumped down Ridge Road and turned onto County Road N, the pair of First Responders chatted easily with each other and tried to prepare me. "The people involved have already been evacuated from the scene," they said. "The dog is in the back of a truck. It began drooling heavily. We just don't know if it's hurt."
In no time, we arrived at the accident. As I opened the door and stepped onto the shoulder, I felt dazzled and disoriented by the red and blue and yellow lights flashing off the reflective gear of half dozen or more emergency personnel. It was an alien scene: diesel fumes and broken car smells, crackling radios and blinding lights, strangers and neighbors, adrenaline and apprehension. I noticed one vehicle disabled a ways off in the farm field facing the road, its front end damaged but headlights on. The First Responders pointed out a pickup truck in the ditch, its air bags deflated, driver's door open.
I cautiously approached the cab, sorting through the items in my pockets for the leash. A wide-eyed, big, blocky-headed white and brown dog sat in the passenger seat.
The use of a dog seat belt not only keeps a pet from interfering with safe driving, but also keeps a pet inside the vehicle in the event of an accident.
The use of a dog seat belt not only keeps a pet from interfering with safe driving, but also keeps a pet inside the vehicle in the event of an accident.
"Her name is Roxy," someone shouted to me. "She had been sitting in the front and was thrown into the back seat."
"Hi Roxy," I started crooning. "How are you feeling? Are you hurt? I bet you're scared. Do you want to come out?" As I chatted at the dog, I showed her the slip lead and attempted to place it around her head. The dog was too far away from me, and I worried she might be protective over the vehicle. I didn't want her to feel trapped and take a defensive position. "Does the passenger door open?" I asked a nearby Responder, never taking my eyes from Roxy, examining her from afar. She was breathing without increased effort, mouth closed. No visible blood on her. Sitting squarely on her haunches. Front limbs straight and weight bearing.
"It's locked," they said. I wanted Roxy to come out so I could examine her better.
As if she might understand me, I began reasoning with her. "You don't want to stay in there, do you? Why don't you come out so we can get you somewhere warm and safe." The dog didn't shy away from me as I reached toward her. Her body language indicated interest and confidence. More confident myself, I was able to slip the leash around her neck. With just a little prompting she crawled into the driver's seat.
Now I was trying to fit a muzzle on her, not sure if she was going to need help exiting the truck and afraid she might bite if my assistance incited pain. The muzzle was ridiculously large. Roxy looked at me disdainfully. "Okay, okay," I laughed. "Let's see if you can get down out of there yourself." I backed up and kept an encouraging amount of forward pressure on the leash. Roxy jumped daintily from the seat onto the gravel, all 80-some-pounds of her. She strained at the leash as I tried to get a better look at her eyes and ears and gums, cold dampness creeping through my denim as I kneeled on the crust of snow. As I ran my hands over her limbs and back, feeling for bumps and scrapes and watching for signs of pain, she leaned with all her might toward a trio of people standing several feet away. Heart and lung sounds good, no drooling, strong and alert. I stood up, handed the leash to a First Responder, and said, "She looks all right. Could use another exam in a better setting, but I think she'll be all right."
The First Responder thanked me and pointed the hand holding Roxy's leash toward the trio of people standing at the front of the truck. "That there is her owner."
Feeling more than a little stupid -- if I'd known that, I would have just had him get the leash on her and entice her from the truck -- I walked Roxy over to him myself. "American Bulldog?" I asked trying to break the ice. "She's beautiful. My own dog is an American Bulldog...don't see many around here." He nodded, distracted as the two officers finished their interview and administered last minute instructions on how to document any latent injuries. The guy looked shell-shocked and I couldn't blame him. I waited my turn for his attention. "Are you local? Do you have a regular vet?" I cringed inwardly; it sounded like soliciting. "I mean, you should have her looked at tomorrow morning," I blurted out. "Even if she seems okay." I gave him a list of things to watch for that would indicate emergency veterinary care should be sought right away.
I wandered back to my ride. My First Responders--my neighbors, my daytime clients--stowed their gear and turned the rumbling old truck toward my home. Feeling calmer I began to enjoy the mild December evening and the camaraderie of being a Local. It occurred to me suddenly that I'd come full circle. "You know," I mused, "over ten years ago I trained to be a First Responder. It's what inspired me to go back to school to become a veterinarian." I never even had had a chance to practice as a First Responder at the time, I thought, and now here I am a veterinarian on my first First Responder call. Ironic, isn't it?
The other irony in this story is that a mound of clean laundry continues to sit unfolded upstairs while I write this post.