To Harry, The Best Cat Ever.

 "Harry was the best cat ever."

We ended the day, today, the last day of the year, on this.

Harry was a 16 year old debonair, distinguished, dark tabby dying from kidney failure, and all of the myriad of afflictions it brings with it. Kidney failure brings you a cascade of  collaterals. You are hungry, but too nauseous to eat. You are frail, but still want to try to jump up on the counter because in your kitty brain you are still a total badass, yet unable to gain any air. You are thirsty, drain the water bowl dry, pee out the buckets in piles voluminous and dehydrating, only to walk to the water bowl again, and again, to have the thirst never quenched and the march to the box never cease. You become tired from the anguish of your starving muscles from the anemia in your bones inability to replenish the red blood cells that let your muscles do your bidding. You fail in tiny stumbles until there is no wind left in the sails. Harry, well, Harry was the husbands cat, and the husband was in the car, to distraught to come inside to share in the goodbye.

Today was the last day I will be a veterinarian in 2023. Do I remember my fist day of 2023? No, but I will always remember today.

"Harry was the best cat I have ever had. I am 88 years old, and Harry was it." 

Harry's mom was short, quiet, smiling, gentle and full of pleasantries of gratitude that he was here with all of us, and loved. She held him for a moment, bent over to whisper that "you are the best cat ever," then kissed his forehead, and gave him a solid scratch under his chin. Harry was curled up, too tired to be afraid of the vets office. We stood nearby waiting for them to have their last moments together. Harry's mom wasn't remorseful about the days he didn't have left. When Harry was sleeping she looked at us and smiled. There weren't tears, nor fretful second guesses of hesitation. She said thank you to every staff member and left us with a laugh to replace the tears with her wisdom brought perspective. She told us how she had been coming to JVC for over 30 years. She told me that she first walked into JVC as a veterinary sales rep. She met Dr Wilson and knew immediately that this was the only vet clinic she would bring her pets to. She said that over all of these years this place was still full of love, and hope and kindness.

We shared stories about how Harry had found them, how they had found each other, and how much they all loved each other. 

Today was December 31st, walk-in appointments were from 1-3, an Harry was the caboose on the end of the year. The last patient I saw. The last person I shared the day with over the lifetime of a loved family member they would grieve and miss for years to come.

I had decided to open for Christmas eve, and New Years eve for the clients whose pets wouldn't make it the 12 hours ER wait, or the 24 hour closed day pause. For the patients like Harry. To be there on their last day is as meaningful, or maybe more so, on their last than it is on their first. The honor of being able to say goodbye to someone so loved they mark our life with stories that give our purpose placement. That was Harry.

As we all toast a glass to a year ahead I take a few moments to feel the weight and the gratitude that sharing little piece's of our most beloved companions brings. How can we walk forward with anticipation and joy if we don't remember what the past has brought us, or taken away. There is never a full cup without the vessels promise of empty and the chance to fill the cup again and start another day with the memories that made us who we are and how lucky we are to have been here. 

I set out to be a veterinarian all those many years ago to be a part of these stories. The happy ones, the sad ones, but most importantly the ones that remind us who we are when we put our whole selves out there to live every moment of the life we are given.

Rex, adopted 24 hours ago from a local shelter by one of our technicians.
The face of second chances and a better year ahead.
For Auld Lang Syne

Here's to you Harry, and your parents, thank you for being a part of every day that I get to live the best job ever. 

Raffles, my adventurous one

How Did We Get Here? The intersection of veterinary medicines needs and the professions gains.

I have tried to hold on, to not lose faith. I know I am not alone. I used to believe, heck, know emphatically, that every veterinarian came into this profession with the same common goal. We all came here because we loved animals in such a compulsory way that we would endure decades of schooling to help them in whatever capacity we could. We were pragmatic in knowing we could not always bend fate by sheer hopeful will, nor cure where disease had overtaken, but every so often some little wet nose would be saved by the hard work of our hands and the training of our mind. Vetmed was about this for all of us. Wealth from collecting and consolidating, or, fragmenting and focusing, well that was for the other white coats and their heart transplants and cancer ports. We vets were a humble, gritty, salt of the earth bunch. Quiet, yet trustworthy. Never a white coat spared for vanities sake. We were smelly, dirty, and proud of the badges of barn dust and species feathers we pinned in our caps. We boasted about having to be very skilled to fix a patient who didn't speak their ailments. We helped every patient who came our way. Each and every one of them, owned, beloved, lost, frail, unnamed, or otherwise was seen our duty, and our reputation on the line if we didn't at least try. We fostered compassion with every act of empathy. We were never too busy to be a beacon of hope in a world of cruelty. We were old souls that passed on our pearls of the profession from our weathered hands and thrifty resourcefulness to fresh faces of the next generations. We stood for the common man and their house pets inherent nucleus of the families whole. I set out to go to vet school to be this person. I bought my practice to perpetuate this long sought after lifestyle. I came into vetmed with all of this as our collective credo. The torch of quiet kindness for the sake of all the souls of the world we live within made vetmed the most honorable profession of them all. Without exception we were all cut, fashioned, and trained from this.  

Raffles. My Beloved kitty

I used to believe all veterinarians came here for this. The preservation of purpose. Perhaps we still graduate as this fledgling of hope and goodness, but, somewhere along the way the elevation of the status to pets being the glue and marrow of our all too complicated lives became so valuable it was extort-able, things changed. These voiceless, beloved to the point of needed beyond replacement value pets became fodder for greed. At some point it became permissible and acceptable to go to vet school at a price point the market could not support. With the incurring hundred of thousands of dollars of vet school debt, the corporate take over of the practices and the limitless, unregulated increasingly escalating cost of care, the professions barrage of whispered reminders that we are worth the six figures we command, the idea of being the one who cares for all as the oath we all took got lost. The profits soared, the costs climbed and the divide between the cans and the cannots grew in never before seen numbers. It became acceptable to place blame. It became permissible to deny care. It became excusable to turn the most needy away as we lacked the time, the willingness, and the empathy for them to make it worth our while. I don't know when that first denial to help because it was no longer profitable to even try happened, but it is now a systemic plague that has killed millions. We are part of this even if we can justify to myriad of reasons why. There is a shortage of veterinarians, and a squabble of people throwing obscene amounts of money at them, making it feasible by charging exorbitant amounts of money to feed the machine, and perpetuate the profession. We were once the place where all are welcome, all are cared for, and now we are the profession of the wealthy, or good luck finding help among the masses in the same boat as you are. I am going to tell all of those nameless, overlooked, dismissed and forgotten, broken hearted pet parents who have met the face of economic driven pet care that they are right. It is now very much about the money. If you are a person who loves their pets as family, spends most of your day insuring that your pets are comfortable and happy beyond the ability to provide the same for yourself than you have either learned this lesson, or will soon. If you are a pet parent who will need to hear the estimate for the cost of your pets care, and then have to negotiate for a higher credit limit to provide it, let's say you do not have $6,000 on hand for a 2 am ER visit, then you need to begin to plan for the ugly that lies ahead. Most vet professionals would insert a strong recommendation to get pet insurance. I will not. While I realize that the future of healthcare for your pet is not foreseeable to most, it is helpful to have some kind of financial plan. The hitch here is that you will not have access to this at 2 am when the deposit is required. You have to have an emergency fund of at least $2,000 and you have to be prepared before that fateful night happens, and you need to have insurance.

My Storm and Frippie.

I came into vetmed when every patient was given options to make them feel better. I came here when "tincture of time" and a pennies on the dollar analgesic plan was the norm. I came here at a time when vetmed didn't have access to the diagnostics, the specialists, or the corporate ownership and we saved more lives in spite of them. I came here when every pet parent was given equal access to our time, our talents and our unquestionable integrity. While it wasn't perfect, it served the patients with equal concern for their family. It came with generous hope, and unmitigated compassion. It was a time when euthanasia was only offered to spare an untreatable pet a suffering death. When equipment was purchased to save lives not bolster share holder dividends and entice/dazzle new talent acquisitions. We paid at point of sale, and never conceived of buying by marketing and passing the purchase price to clients in packages tied to services they couldn't opt out of. We were independent, privately owned, and working for the community who knew us by more than our credentialled monograms. We were faithful, devoted, and supportive of each other in a home-town baked-apple-pie way. I came here to pass the torch my predecessors granted me. Somewhere along the way we all decided we liked stuff, nest eggs, and the chasing of wealth more than the ability to be kind to all. We, the huge collective chasing the American Dream, we, all bought into this. We are all going to be reminded of it every time a life lies in the balance. What would you do if you were in our shoes? How many times do people tell me that they couldn't do my job because they would want to save them all? Where does the ability to chase the American Dream, profit upon the fruits of your labors, and the quest to get as much as you can meet the empathy needed to save the companions we call our lifes joy?

What Your Pet Wants For Christmas

In the heart of Macy's department store for the month of December rests a large red Santa's mailbox. It is nestled between the racks of clothes, flanked by flocked evergreen trees, and it is always easy to find as it is the center of the crowd in the middle of the first floor. I visit it each year as a reminder of how magical this time of year is to the little kids in all of us. The front mail door swings open with its traditional metal hinge melody so often it sounds like part of the caroling. Children, of every size, from every corner of the world, congregate here to mail their present list to Santa. Although I have never slipped an envelope into its red belly, I stop and watch as the other kids do. For each time that door is pulled open and the mouth of the North Pole is summoned to answer a request, I wish for that kid to know that the magic is always here. Not in a store, but in the hope of a wish put to paper. The feeling of anticipation that whatever you ask for might be provided. If you take pause, and allow yourself to be the witness to another's joyful excitement you will quickly be reminded about how sweet the gesture of writing a list and sending it to make-believe-land is. You can stand as an onlooker to this little spot of letters, wishes, dreams, and love and just lose the rest of the bustling patrons elbowing by. I always wonder what those letters hold. How many are asking for a toy, a doll, a childhood keepsake to mark the year in the timeline of a life that grows up. How many are for such basic wishes that no child should ever have to ask for. Food, clothing, a home to feel safe in. How many hold wishes like mine always did; a pony, a puppy, a bunny. Something alive for me to cuddle and keep safe. Some little life to love and be needed for.

How do you do a thoracocentesis?
One of our rescue kittens getting treated by my team.
Giggles are always on the schedule.

These days my life revolves around the little lives my home calls its heart. I have 5 cats, and two dogs, and I will admit with 100% honesty that I spend every day asking myself if I have fulfilled all of the items that they would have penned in their letter to Santa. They always have the basic needs of a cat or dog at their toes. The basic is food and water, a warm place to sleep every night, but the wishes meant for Santa's ears, they are the items that I ask myself if I am providing.

So I thought that this year I will share what I think my pets would ask for, should Santa remind them that their Nice days outnumber the Naughty.

Wren is the cat I call my beloved. She is the first one I go looking for at bedtime if she isn't already purring at the top of my pillow. She is aging, and less finicky. Less likely to call out in alarm when she hasn't gotten her way. She lets the kittens plow past her and grumps with the expiration of an old soul who hasn't got time for shenanigans anymore. She is wise, adored and Queen. She bows to no one, and puts up with even less. This year we got her a heating mat that has 10 settings, (she prefers 3), and we set it for 12 hours. She also likes her water changed daily. We keep a glass by the bed, and she prefers options even in this. It is more likely that she will drink from my overnight water glass, a tiptoe at a time to scoop it from the glass to her tongue. Even in this we share everything. (I know not to drink past bedtime). She prefers fresh plants in winter. It's too cold to go out for a green nibble. Reminding the housekeeping staff to bow to her as they pass. 

Wren

She has a window sill of her own. Packed with a bed and blankets. A perch to see the sunrise, and then set, and monitor the critters of her kingdom. For cats, every single one of them, this perception that they are the apex predator, the indisputable badass of their kingdom, is paramount. Every cat needs to feel they are free to make choices. Free to have opinions, and able to execute commands at whim. Finding your place in your own home when you are their servant is the key to an equitable, honest, and amicable life. Your cat always needs to feel that they are in charge, and this will not be threatened. It is part of the reason that there is a critical mass threshold for multi-cat homes. That one extra cat too many that tilts the apple cart and leads to marking territory, cat fights, and stress in the multi-cat home. She is the constant comfort for all of my days. The one who purrs when she sees me. Takes delight in me just being near. She is the epitome of why we all sacrifice so much for the pets we call family. 

Birdie

My two rabies quarantine kittens; Raffles (short for the state bird of Pennsylvania; the Ruffed Grouse), and Birdie, (the state bird of New York; the Eastern Bluebird), are wild, crazy, pure kitten energy rambunctious. These days my husband is retired. The two kittens follow him like ducklings, always underfoot. They grew up with the puppies, Frippie and Storm, and seemed to imprint on them as much as us humans, so they follow the dogs in and out for the am pee and the before bed bathroom. Unlike the dogs who stay wherever we are, they decide if it's time to come, or go, and beckon their wishes with long drawn out meows fit for drama soap operas of the B-rated variety. My husband stands near the door and opens it slowly for the kittens to come and go, based on which side of the door they scream from. He will stand their like a doorman and say, "I do this all day," with a prideful subservience only a parent could admit to. Their new favorite fancy is feathers. My dear friend Kim gave us a handful of her peacocks plumage and they have systematically disemboweled each frond. The confetti of a killer spread across the living room floor. Life for a kitten is easier, as long as it is quiet, safe and has ample food. They make the simplest things fun. You just need to remember their energy threshold requires they come in pairs.

Raffles

The dogs; Fripp and Storm. Two peas in the pod who could not exist without each other, even though they are so different. There is a firm two dog rule in this house. Two dogs to keep each other company. Two to play so hard during the day that they sleep well enough through the night, so their already exhausted mom can go to sleep as soon as she gets home from work. This couldn't work if they didn't have each other. Their Christmas list to Santa would very likely include a wish for the other. They are this couple. They would only ask for more time. More time together to go on long walks. Walks where they lead and decide which trail to follow. Time to find that ever elusive squirrel and finally make peace with the pursuit. More steak dinners. Fewer vacations for their parents that involve planes or trains. The kind of vacations we take with cars allow them to go, therefore they prefer these. They are family and they expect every family vacation will include them. They are greeted every morning by a whisper of a "hello" that allows them to jump on the bed and curl up on our pillows. They insist that bedtime follow the same principles. Every day begins and ends with a bed in the bedroom and a wish for a peaceful night of dreaming about the adventures of tomorrow. These house fellows of ours never want for more than time together. It is the most sincere wish for Santa anyone of us could ever desire.

Storm and Frippie

Here's to wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a holiday season where all of your time is loved and treasured with the family you call yours.

Pets With Santa 2023

If you need some hints on what your pet might want this Christmas, think about these;

- a place to call home. So many pets die in shelters, and so many others still live in horrific conditions breeding the puppies of the internet sales ads.

- a person to remind them that they are loved. We all deserve this.

- the gentle acknowledgement that they are the most beloved being in the world.

- a warm place to sleep.

- a collar (dog only) AND a microchip that says "you are mine" (and the appropriate contact information).

- a place of their own. We all need a place that is exclusively ours. A bed, a perch, a cage, a corner, a space.. a bathtub and a vanity (if you are me).

- current vaccines for the appropriate place you live. Nothing, no one, not one living being should die from a preventable disease. Watching a pet die from parvovirus, rabies, a pyometra, the list is exhaustive, the mental pain, and the enduring heartbreak these bring, is avoidable. Why are we still begging for this?

- spayed, neutered, and putting the life of your pet above all else. (Breeding them puts their lives at risk, and we already have too many unwanted pets in the world).

- a walk everyday that is just for you, (I am talking to your dog, but, I know lots of cats who love being outside safely. Maybe consider a walk with them too). We don't walk a dog to go from point A to point B, we walk them so they can get out, stretch their legs, employ their nose to investigate a world of scents we can only imagine. Let your dog do the walking, just be the chaperone.

- a catnip station, toys, water fountain and feathers. How about indoor cat grass year around. What does your cat love to get their claws into? Do you think your cat feels like they are a guest in their own home, or do they think that you are?

- photos on the wall, the mantel, the wallet, all of the places where terms of endearment lie. Doesn't everyone have their screensaver set to their pet?

- cats need lots of choices for litterboxes. If you have four floors in your home, and your cat has access to each of them a litter box on each is a sign that they are welcome. Also, choices are important. What if your cat is afraid to get in the box with the lid, or can't quite manage to jump on the top to gain access? Think about your cat aging, and struggling with the joints? Who wants to debate a painful poo?

- dogs come in every shape, size, and demeanor. Some are highly social others just want mom and dad, and don't need anyone else. Maybe a gift of learning to allow others to have value is a way to ensure that your pet has options outside of you and your life. Dogs are just like people. Aren't we each our own individuals?

- remind your pets that they are the most important part of everyday. Say "good morning!" Say "I love you!" Or, say, "you are the most beautiful girl in the world!" it doesn't matter what you tell them, but acknowledge them every time you see them. There will never be another life who loves you so devotingly. 

Spend some time thinking about how lucky you are to have your pets. How lucky are we to have each other. 

Happy holidays to all of us who love the pets we devote our lives to.

I want to hear about your pets list to Santa. What would they wish for?

Cheeto,, another broken kitten who needs us..
He will have half of his tail amputated tomorrow.
He came to us with multiple injuries,, and his story continues.
He is loved and he reminds us of our purpose.