While I was working at a small animal practice in England, a kind Samaritan dumped a lost lurcher (type of rough looking greyhound) with a broken leg on us one Wednesday. I phoned the RSPCA who referred us to the town council. On Thursday a man from council phoned back, asking us to go ahead with the required surgery. I operated on Friday - a long and difficult bone plating. With much perspiration and perseverance I achieved a pretty good fix. I did not even mind missing lunch for the 5th day that week, I felt such a warm glow of achievement.
At some point during the surgery a man arrived to empty the freezer where dead bodies are kept. We were surprised to see him as he normally arrived on a Monday before we start work. He told us there had been a change in schedule. So he collected seven dead fish, two dead budgies and a rotten rabbit and left with his loot. (We were attached to a pet superstore). Watch this space.....
The dog woke up and had a hearty meal a few hours later. I took him out to sniff the trees before closing time, but he preferred to flood the surgery floor instead. After we left, his dinner passed through his intestinal tract as all good dinners do and he spent all night smearing it across his kennel walls. The next morning I took him out for a walk, leaving the poor nurse to deal with the mess. The dog, whom I had named Pula (Setswana for blessing), because we would be blessed if anyone actually paid for his treatment, sniffed the grass, greeted the passers-by, and had a large bowel motion just after we returned to the surgery.
There was work to be done, so Pula was returned to his kennel against his wishes. He vocalized his objections very loudly. The store manager complained that his customers would complain. Every spare minute we had, we tried to console Pula. We had several walks, pleading sessions and even a few firm requests to BE QUIET! Most of the day we could not hear ourselves think. Sunday was much the same. By Monday our nerves were sufficiently frayed to resort to the use of tranquilizers for the dog - though we needed it more, especially when another freezer man arrived and declared that the Friday freezer man was a fraud. A body snatcher on the loose?
By Tuesday the pet store staff were beginning to take an interest in Pula and started taking him outside during their staggered tea breaks. The dog was delighted with his new friends and admirers and we had peace at last. When they brought him in on Tuesday evening, he was gambolling like a calf, ecstatic with all the attention. The following morning Pula was raring to go out again. We did our customary walk to the bushes resulting in Pula soiling the surgery floor on our return as usual. Then he stood quietly to have his temperature taken and bandage changed before trotting expectantly to the cupboard where his tablets are kept. He had grown accustomed to the fact that he regularly received them with a tasty snack. The only thing we could not teach him was how to be quiet in his kennel. I was delighted when the shop staff came and asked if they could take him out again. When I checked on him later he was surrounded by friends and well wishers - even the staff from the shop next door were visiting him regularly.
Late Wednesday morning the council's dog warden arrived - being towed in by a large woman from a dog sanctuary. She introduced herself. As she is named after a bodypart, let's call her Mrs Bodypart. She sailed into my consulting room uninvited, demanding to know everything about the dog's treatment. I explained that due to the initial open fracture and severe bruising, the wound was still oozing and the bandage would have to be changed every 48 hours. When I asked whether she would be comfortable doing this, she declared huffily that she had been "doing this" for 35 years. Then she said it was not normal to change a bandage so frequently, she had never come across it in 35 years of dealing with dogs and implied that we were just doing it for the money. I patiently tried to explain that no, an open fracture accompanied by severe bruising was not normal, but given the abnormal state of affairs, we had no other choice but to change the bandage frequently. I did not tell her that my salary remained the same, whether I did a lot of work or a little work, and given the choice I'd rather do a little work, but this dog was my friend in a foreign land, and hey, the way he greets me in the morning is payment enough.
Meanwhile Mrs Bodypart was in full sail and demanded to be shown said dog, who happened to be visiting the loading bay. As everyone was momentarily occupied they had chained him to a pallet in full view of where they were working. Pula wagged his tail as he heard my voice. The next moment Mrs B went ballistic about the incredible cruelty and irresponsibility of chaining this poor creature up where he is not receiving any veterinary attention, being watched over by ignorant members of the public. I tried to explain that they were not ignorant, nor members of the public and were very caring. The dog was happy, we weren't ignoring him and anyway if he was indoors he was so noisy that we had to tranquilize him. Hoo Boy, I should not have said that! Now she was off on a new tangent. I tried to defuse the situation by asking whether she would be able to bring the dog in on Friday so that I could demonstrate how I wanted the bandage change done. No, she said, she was not bringing the dog back to this terrible place where he was chained up to pallets. She wanted to see the bandage change now. I tried to explain that doing it the second time in one day would incur unnecessary expense. More ammunition for Bodypart: "This is what it is all about, money....... etc. "
By now the "ignorant members of the public" were gathering around, jaws agape. I was afraid a fist fight might ensue if Bodypart kept hurling abuse, so I managed to head her off to the relative privacy of my consulting room. As a precaution, I called a nurse in as a witness and demonstrated the bandage change. This activity calmed me a little and I was able to take a step back and let it all wash over me. I thought about becoming a ferry pilot and wondered if having an engine failure over the North Atlantic could be remotely as stressful as this. Meanwhile the nurse, who in addition to her nursing qualification, had 5 years vet nursing experience and a basic law degree, tried to placate Mrs. B. When I got my engine restarted after a nice adrenalin rush off the coast of Newfoundland and returned to the present, Mrs B was telling the nurse how young and stupid she was and that she knew nothing about anything, let alone dogs.
This enraged me, and as I my imaginary near death experience over the ocean had given me courage, I said as evenly as I could: "I appreciate your concern for the dog, but I am very offended by your attitude. We have all done our best to treat him and make him comfortable and happy and we do not deserve such treatment."
She left amidst threats of reporting us to the company and anyone else who would listen.
We have thought long and hard on how to resolve this problem and have come up with the ultimate solution. We'll lure her in on Friday when Bodysnatcher comes ......
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