I have been at a small practice this week but it is busy. They do a lot of nurse clinics which is great to have the interaction. Generally people are there as they want to listen and ask questions. To many places just have the odd one usually a post op check and it doesn't utilise nurses skills properly.
Where l have been nurses do micro chipping, health checks (dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs hamster, birds), post op checks, geriatric clinics, nail clipping (all above species)2nd(primary) vaccinations, basic behaviour clinics, more complicated they are sent to specialist behaviourists and several other clinics.
It has been my week for injuries though:
Have had both arms attacked with teeth and nails by cats .
Inside of one arm scratched by psycho rabbit.
Back of my hands scratched by nervous guinea pig.
And the best was a retriever that chomped my finger when l reached to its lead to get it out the kennel. There was no warning the teeth just snapped like a shark, my reflexes were a bit slow and it got the base of my finger. Pulling the hand out scored the teeth upwards to the tip. The HN had to under sign my remarks about what happened in the accident book and l said to put down... "Heard nurse swearing loudly about **&%^*& bitch" This was vetoed to just verbally.
Showing posts with label Dangerous Dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dangerous Dogs. Show all posts
Friday, 30 October 2009
Friday, 23 October 2009
Toadstools for Tea
It has been a poisonous time on shift this week not counting the usual cases that we have in.
Had a cat in whose renal parameters were all over the place but the worst was the way the calcium was heading to ground zero on subsequent checks. Given how his bloods stacked the vet was certain it was antifreeze tox. It is so depressing to see a lovely cat folding in and dying his bloods going worse and worse and nothing we could do would help. The vet rang the owner about 2am and had a chat.
A dog we had in had decided on a walk that those yummy orange toadstools growing out that nice smelly pile of cow dung were put there as a meal just for him. Being as he was a Labrador by the time the owner got to him and got him off the “meal” there was not much left.
He had a bad night of hallucinating (we think) as his eyes were like saucers and he was falling all over the place. With the aid of lots of iv fluids and some other treatment at the end of 24hrs he was able to go home with just checks for a couple of weeks.
We were all relieved to see him go because he was farting with a vengeance. To quote the vet “something horrible crawled up the dog’s arse and died” Critical care was so aromatic even with my bad cold l could smell it.
Another Labrador had been pulled off different toadstools [not orange ones] to late and he was very bad. His pcv (thickness of red blood cells) was 76. It should normally be max 55. He was so dehydrated that he did not have blood but syrup in his veins.
He needed fluid flung down his iv in vast quantities. He was shaking and collapsed, he had stinking blood leaking out of his rectum and saliva running like a bath out of his mouth. In fact saliva flowed out of the kennel like a tide onto the floor.
His owners were rung in the middle of the night and warned that it was unlikely he would see the morning and to be prepared for the worst.
Never say never though, at about 4am he was more alert, moved to a comfier position on his own and slowed down salivation. I went to do his stats and he raised his read and checked me out. By change over at 7am his rectal blood had stopped leaking.
He whizzed through 3 litres of fluid in 10hours on my shift, not counting what he had before l got in and more during the day, when l got in l the next night was over the moon to find out he had gone home. Again checks over the next couple of weeks but looking good.
Mind you l recon it was the noisy cat in the kennel above him must have helped keep him awake. He was claustrophobic. He had been in an RTA his back leg was past salvation. They had put a support dressing called a Robert Jones on and he had been going mad the dressing had slipped and it needed changing. The vet decided that if he was in so much pain the leg would come off in the night but in the mean time the 2nd dressing slipped.
He held the cat while l cut it [dressing] off, after first unscrewing the leg a couple of times so it faced the correct way.
We put him back in the kennel to see if he would settle down often animals just can not handle the dressing.
No it was obvious the leg was not bothering him but he loathed the kennel. He would pin himself to the door shaking it and yowling in anger leg whirring in the air. When not pinned to the door he did not even look at his leg but gazed angrily out. Stats were impossible, as soon as l tried to slide open the door l was being attacked by angry cat.
We got too busy for the leg so the vet gave him a very deep sedative and he took several hours to wake up to the agitated state he had been in.
His leg was removed the next day and he was sent home, a bit woozy but he was so stressed, first act on awakening was to attack the door. By now he had made his feelings clear that it was better he was sent home with less strength analgesia treatment instead of keeping him in overnight for stronger as we would normally do.
Yet 2 more dangerous dogs in that were grabbed on behalf of the police with instructions to slide water under the door lob food over the top and don’t go near them. One bit the collection driver the other tried.
Actually it was 3 dangerous dogs but number 3 was a boisterous staffie cross with no manners. We had him out having a game and a hunt the treat time and he was fine with us, what he needed was discipline. The most dangerous thing about him was his snapping for treats so we dropped them on the floor.
Had a cat in whose renal parameters were all over the place but the worst was the way the calcium was heading to ground zero on subsequent checks. Given how his bloods stacked the vet was certain it was antifreeze tox. It is so depressing to see a lovely cat folding in and dying his bloods going worse and worse and nothing we could do would help. The vet rang the owner about 2am and had a chat.
A dog we had in had decided on a walk that those yummy orange toadstools growing out that nice smelly pile of cow dung were put there as a meal just for him. Being as he was a Labrador by the time the owner got to him and got him off the “meal” there was not much left.
He had a bad night of hallucinating (we think) as his eyes were like saucers and he was falling all over the place. With the aid of lots of iv fluids and some other treatment at the end of 24hrs he was able to go home with just checks for a couple of weeks.
We were all relieved to see him go because he was farting with a vengeance. To quote the vet “something horrible crawled up the dog’s arse and died” Critical care was so aromatic even with my bad cold l could smell it.
Another Labrador had been pulled off different toadstools [not orange ones] to late and he was very bad. His pcv (thickness of red blood cells) was 76. It should normally be max 55. He was so dehydrated that he did not have blood but syrup in his veins.
He needed fluid flung down his iv in vast quantities. He was shaking and collapsed, he had stinking blood leaking out of his rectum and saliva running like a bath out of his mouth. In fact saliva flowed out of the kennel like a tide onto the floor.
His owners were rung in the middle of the night and warned that it was unlikely he would see the morning and to be prepared for the worst.
Never say never though, at about 4am he was more alert, moved to a comfier position on his own and slowed down salivation. I went to do his stats and he raised his read and checked me out. By change over at 7am his rectal blood had stopped leaking.
He whizzed through 3 litres of fluid in 10hours on my shift, not counting what he had before l got in and more during the day, when l got in l the next night was over the moon to find out he had gone home. Again checks over the next couple of weeks but looking good.
Mind you l recon it was the noisy cat in the kennel above him must have helped keep him awake. He was claustrophobic. He had been in an RTA his back leg was past salvation. They had put a support dressing called a Robert Jones on and he had been going mad the dressing had slipped and it needed changing. The vet decided that if he was in so much pain the leg would come off in the night but in the mean time the 2nd dressing slipped.
He held the cat while l cut it [dressing] off, after first unscrewing the leg a couple of times so it faced the correct way.
We put him back in the kennel to see if he would settle down often animals just can not handle the dressing.
No it was obvious the leg was not bothering him but he loathed the kennel. He would pin himself to the door shaking it and yowling in anger leg whirring in the air. When not pinned to the door he did not even look at his leg but gazed angrily out. Stats were impossible, as soon as l tried to slide open the door l was being attacked by angry cat.
We got too busy for the leg so the vet gave him a very deep sedative and he took several hours to wake up to the agitated state he had been in.
His leg was removed the next day and he was sent home, a bit woozy but he was so stressed, first act on awakening was to attack the door. By now he had made his feelings clear that it was better he was sent home with less strength analgesia treatment instead of keeping him in overnight for stronger as we would normally do.
Yet 2 more dangerous dogs in that were grabbed on behalf of the police with instructions to slide water under the door lob food over the top and don’t go near them. One bit the collection driver the other tried.
Actually it was 3 dangerous dogs but number 3 was a boisterous staffie cross with no manners. We had him out having a game and a hunt the treat time and he was fine with us, what he needed was discipline. The most dangerous thing about him was his snapping for treats so we dropped them on the floor.
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
The Next Generation.
The other day a young female came into work with her 8week old puppy. The puppy was due it’s first vaccination, great, she was being responsible. No not exactly she was walking the puppy. Her record stated she had been warned not to walk the puppy until 7-10 days after his second vaccination as he was at risk.
The svn explains she should not be walking the un-vaccinated puppy on the pavements but especially not in a veterinary surgery.
The client looks blankly at her and says “wot you mean?”
The svn tries to slowly explain “wot she means” but the blank look shows she isn’t really getting through.
Client sits down slowly pondering the information, puppy sits on the floor, because it is on the floor already and it can have a nice sniff and lick at all those smells and whatever.
The vet calls the client in and client’s first words as she is walking through the door… “Wot do they mean l shouldn’t walk him” vet can be heard repeating almost word for word what the svn and receptionist had warned the client about.
Client goes home with puppy they are due back in 2 weeks. I stuck my head around the door to make a sarcastic comment to the vet.
She cuts me off shaking her head in despair “The puppy is 8 weeks old, and she is to scared to pick up it’s bloody food bowl, the puppy growls at her. And the best part is, she is pregnant”.
The betting is closed on what age it will get put down for attacking the child or dumped for attacking the child. The betting is also closed on what future child she is bringing into the world. We are reckoning by 10 it will be known to the police as an out of control delinquent.
The svn explains she should not be walking the un-vaccinated puppy on the pavements but especially not in a veterinary surgery.
The client looks blankly at her and says “wot you mean?”
The svn tries to slowly explain “wot she means” but the blank look shows she isn’t really getting through.
Client sits down slowly pondering the information, puppy sits on the floor, because it is on the floor already and it can have a nice sniff and lick at all those smells and whatever.
The vet calls the client in and client’s first words as she is walking through the door… “Wot do they mean l shouldn’t walk him” vet can be heard repeating almost word for word what the svn and receptionist had warned the client about.
Client goes home with puppy they are due back in 2 weeks. I stuck my head around the door to make a sarcastic comment to the vet.
She cuts me off shaking her head in despair “The puppy is 8 weeks old, and she is to scared to pick up it’s bloody food bowl, the puppy growls at her. And the best part is, she is pregnant”.
The betting is closed on what age it will get put down for attacking the child or dumped for attacking the child. The betting is also closed on what future child she is bringing into the world. We are reckoning by 10 it will be known to the police as an out of control delinquent.
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Chalk and Cheese
Chalk and cheese refers not to names but temperaments.
We had a small cross breed Jack Russell size in for a stitch up. Pre op we had to use a double dose of domitor to get near him (a very strong sedative) We managed to then muzzle him and drip him. When we anaesthetised him his blink reflex went and his bite stayed ... crazy situation!!.
Post op we put him in an incubator for recovery, he was so evil when he came round that we couldn't get near him, to the degree that walking into critical care had him attacking the perspex to get to us. He had to be moved to a proper kennel as the incubator was only temporary and we needed it for other patients. We had to anaesthetise him to move him over, luckily he had a drip on so we put the propoflo down that.
He had been on a 24hr critical sheet but needless to say the only stats he was going to have done were injections through his drip line and visual checks... "yup, he's alive"
As he is only about a year old he is going to be recommended to a behaviourist. We often have nasty dogs in but this one was unreal.
We had another cross breed in that had a blood transfusion he was so critical on thursday. Friday it was a like playing with a ball in a tumble dryer sorting him. All he wanted to do was play. I swear he kept wetting his bed so we had to change it and he got a cuddle and game.
Doing his stats was "fun" he kept trying to wrap his paws round the stethoscope and yank it off or stick his head up and pull it out off my ears. No point feeling for a pulse he was to fat and bouncy.
When the door was opened he would jump in and out of his kennel only taking 2 steps to tease then sitting down and grinning at you as he got a big reaction ie vetnurse yelling stop and grabbing at him. He was attached to a drip and so to far would pull it out, however he knew the exact length and stayed within range.
We had a small cross breed Jack Russell size in for a stitch up. Pre op we had to use a double dose of domitor to get near him (a very strong sedative) We managed to then muzzle him and drip him. When we anaesthetised him his blink reflex went and his bite stayed ... crazy situation!!.
Post op we put him in an incubator for recovery, he was so evil when he came round that we couldn't get near him, to the degree that walking into critical care had him attacking the perspex to get to us. He had to be moved to a proper kennel as the incubator was only temporary and we needed it for other patients. We had to anaesthetise him to move him over, luckily he had a drip on so we put the propoflo down that.
He had been on a 24hr critical sheet but needless to say the only stats he was going to have done were injections through his drip line and visual checks... "yup, he's alive"
As he is only about a year old he is going to be recommended to a behaviourist. We often have nasty dogs in but this one was unreal.
We had another cross breed in that had a blood transfusion he was so critical on thursday. Friday it was a like playing with a ball in a tumble dryer sorting him. All he wanted to do was play. I swear he kept wetting his bed so we had to change it and he got a cuddle and game.
Doing his stats was "fun" he kept trying to wrap his paws round the stethoscope and yank it off or stick his head up and pull it out off my ears. No point feeling for a pulse he was to fat and bouncy.
When the door was opened he would jump in and out of his kennel only taking 2 steps to tease then sitting down and grinning at you as he got a big reaction ie vetnurse yelling stop and grabbing at him. He was attached to a drip and so to far would pull it out, however he knew the exact length and stayed within range.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Dog DNA
Had yet another dog brought in last night for attacking kids. Not the dogs fault he was only young. Apparently he had been "trained" with various methods that scum train fighting dogs with.
The police Sargent sent a message they wanted us to test it for DNA, fine but no instructions on what to use to store or keep it in. This is a new one usually we just keep any dog faeces and bag it for the forensics.
The vet rang the police control said they would get the sgt who was dealing with the case to ring up sometime. So as she is a new vet to our place and very quiet and believing she said ok and put the phone down.
I was not happy with this. They would ring up when we were up to our necks, and at some time means if lucky at all and most importantly how long would the dog have to go without food and water just so it was convenient for the police.
So l rang police control and asked for anyone in a forensics capacity who could give us advice. They said no one was available but that the sgt would ring back. Nope not good enough l want it sorted now, not at some vague point. We can not leave the dog without food and water for hours, just because it is not convenient for some Sargent to ring us back They promised he would ring back within 10minutes would that do. I glared at the phone and agreed.
Sure enough l got a call back. Yes he confirmed they wanted DNA.
"Ok l said how do we collect it and what do we store it in"
Silence.. "l don't know that's your job we just need it" He was being sulky and obtuse over it.
Now he had me annoyed and that is not good. "You want it you need to tell us how etc. If you do not know who is there in forensics to help? we can not leave the animal for hours with no food and water"
Sarcastic laughter "It is a Saturday night what do you mean forensics, they don't work weekends"
"Well what happens if someone is shot"
"They come out, that is a major crime"
"Well tell them someone has been shot"
Shocked silence "What...."
Me now very pissed off at what is asked and no advice given and a sarcastic Sgt being unhelpful. "Ok give me the phone number and l will deal with your forensics and get the info, no need for you to ask them and get you in trouble for waking them up. I can get the info and am happy to wake them. I am not leaving the dog for hours without food and water, because it is not convenient to you lot."
More silence as possible he sees a problem he may have just started asking for DNA, namely the realisation that if need be the vetnurse will make the night hell for the police and go higher up the food chain and piss off any senior officers who are skulking about. Or l may say sod you and wreck the DNA he is being so prissy about by giving the dog food and water and it will be his fault for being unhelpful.
"Ok ok l will have someone there within an hour with the kit. I assume the dog will be alright that long without food and water" He added the last part somewhat sarcasticly.
I refrained form making any comments which l was wanting to do "One hour yes that's fine the dog will survive, l gave him details of where we were and left him to spit his dummy into the corner and sort things"
Around time 2 WPC turned up. One knew all about the practice one did not and was puzzled about what we were. She seemed to have trouble grasping that we were a vet practice. The important thing was they had 2 BIG new packs of swabs for DNA.
We sedated the dog. He was a very mixed temperament. One second sweet the next nasty. No way were we sticking our hands near his mouth with him awake. One jab of dom/torb (sedative) and he slept peacefully. I popped the dog, onto the table.
I asked how many swabs to use and they didn't know but guessed about 2 or 3. They were adamant they were just couriers. I said nope looking at the 2 packs and feeling evil If they sent about 60 swabs they must want the lot. I grabbed about 10 out of one of their hands to start with, and said hang onto the others l will be back.
I held the mouth open and the vet swabbed. One of the WPC got a bit nervous about how many swabs l grabbed and rang the sgt.
He said he only wanted about four, two each from two different areas. Tough l handed the 4th mouth swab to the vet who was not really listening.
Being as l feel kind, and the two WPC were looking a bit intimidated at me holding the wadge of swabs in my hand and not knowing what to say. I grinned at them and as soon as the vet finished the mouth with the fourth swab, l pulled the tail up handed her another swab.
The WPC went a bit pale. I think they are new to the job and still a bit squeamish. If they were not new they would have been a tad more forthright over things not so shy.
Afterwards one of them was filling out a statement and had to ask where we swabbed. I said "mouth" but she wanted to know areas. So l told her the areas within the mouth that had been swabbed, she looked at me and muttered "mouth will do". I grinned at her.
My suggestion that she also write. "Shoved 5th swab up dogs arse" was vetoed by nurses, vet, and all others in the prep area watching. Some people are much to serious about life.
As to the dog that will be going off to holding kennels and up to the courts to decide on his fate.
The police Sargent sent a message they wanted us to test it for DNA, fine but no instructions on what to use to store or keep it in. This is a new one usually we just keep any dog faeces and bag it for the forensics.
The vet rang the police control said they would get the sgt who was dealing with the case to ring up sometime. So as she is a new vet to our place and very quiet and believing she said ok and put the phone down.
I was not happy with this. They would ring up when we were up to our necks, and at some time means if lucky at all and most importantly how long would the dog have to go without food and water just so it was convenient for the police.
So l rang police control and asked for anyone in a forensics capacity who could give us advice. They said no one was available but that the sgt would ring back. Nope not good enough l want it sorted now, not at some vague point. We can not leave the dog without food and water for hours, just because it is not convenient for some Sargent to ring us back They promised he would ring back within 10minutes would that do. I glared at the phone and agreed.
Sure enough l got a call back. Yes he confirmed they wanted DNA.
"Ok l said how do we collect it and what do we store it in"
Silence.. "l don't know that's your job we just need it" He was being sulky and obtuse over it.
Now he had me annoyed and that is not good. "You want it you need to tell us how etc. If you do not know who is there in forensics to help? we can not leave the animal for hours with no food and water"
Sarcastic laughter "It is a Saturday night what do you mean forensics, they don't work weekends"
"Well what happens if someone is shot"
"They come out, that is a major crime"
"Well tell them someone has been shot"
Shocked silence "What...."
Me now very pissed off at what is asked and no advice given and a sarcastic Sgt being unhelpful. "Ok give me the phone number and l will deal with your forensics and get the info, no need for you to ask them and get you in trouble for waking them up. I can get the info and am happy to wake them. I am not leaving the dog for hours without food and water, because it is not convenient to you lot."
More silence as possible he sees a problem he may have just started asking for DNA, namely the realisation that if need be the vetnurse will make the night hell for the police and go higher up the food chain and piss off any senior officers who are skulking about. Or l may say sod you and wreck the DNA he is being so prissy about by giving the dog food and water and it will be his fault for being unhelpful.
"Ok ok l will have someone there within an hour with the kit. I assume the dog will be alright that long without food and water" He added the last part somewhat sarcasticly.
I refrained form making any comments which l was wanting to do "One hour yes that's fine the dog will survive, l gave him details of where we were and left him to spit his dummy into the corner and sort things"
Around time 2 WPC turned up. One knew all about the practice one did not and was puzzled about what we were. She seemed to have trouble grasping that we were a vet practice. The important thing was they had 2 BIG new packs of swabs for DNA.
We sedated the dog. He was a very mixed temperament. One second sweet the next nasty. No way were we sticking our hands near his mouth with him awake. One jab of dom/torb (sedative) and he slept peacefully. I popped the dog, onto the table.
I asked how many swabs to use and they didn't know but guessed about 2 or 3. They were adamant they were just couriers. I said nope looking at the 2 packs and feeling evil If they sent about 60 swabs they must want the lot. I grabbed about 10 out of one of their hands to start with, and said hang onto the others l will be back.
I held the mouth open and the vet swabbed. One of the WPC got a bit nervous about how many swabs l grabbed and rang the sgt.
He said he only wanted about four, two each from two different areas. Tough l handed the 4th mouth swab to the vet who was not really listening.
Being as l feel kind, and the two WPC were looking a bit intimidated at me holding the wadge of swabs in my hand and not knowing what to say. I grinned at them and as soon as the vet finished the mouth with the fourth swab, l pulled the tail up handed her another swab.
The WPC went a bit pale. I think they are new to the job and still a bit squeamish. If they were not new they would have been a tad more forthright over things not so shy.
Afterwards one of them was filling out a statement and had to ask where we swabbed. I said "mouth" but she wanted to know areas. So l told her the areas within the mouth that had been swabbed, she looked at me and muttered "mouth will do". I grinned at her.
My suggestion that she also write. "Shoved 5th swab up dogs arse" was vetoed by nurses, vet, and all others in the prep area watching. Some people are much to serious about life.
As to the dog that will be going off to holding kennels and up to the courts to decide on his fate.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
A Ramble and a Rant
Today’s blog is a vague ramble through life. I have made a wonderful discovery. Up to now l have been unable to eat kiwi fruit. The initial taste was great then l got an awful taste in my throat that had me choking for hours and swilling coffee, coke cola and orange juice to try and flush the taste.
No more is that a problem, now l can eat kiwi fruit. The secret was found by accident. Before the 3 or so l have ever eaten l had peeled. The other day when l was looking at the fruit basket delivered to work l was drooling at the, for me, inedible kiwi fruit, l was told you can eat the skins.
I decided to take a chance as they did look nice. I discovered that if l eat kiwi fruit with the skin on, and make sure l get some skin in each mouthful (not hard given their size) l can eat them with only a very small after taste that goes within a few minutes and not the hours before.
On the subject of food l will be so glad when the hordes of Christmas chocolates are gone. No is a very flexible word with chocolates.
Speaking of insanity. Mike the vet has been away on a 2 day course on canoe rescue. He does a lot of canoeing. The thing is it is mid winter, it is many – below freezing and he said they will have to spend a lot of time in the river. We have a nice book running on if he comes back with a cold, frostbite or both, l hope both as thats what my money is on.
Just been having a read of veterinary type news and seen this which l may look at. I have tried Wibble on dog a car harnesses before but it end up all twisted and more of a danger than a help. And that was after one normal journey when all she did was sleep.
Being as how this is a Roger Mugfords Company of Animals item so l recon it should work.
Was cheered up reading an article that some liberal lord is trying to get the Dangerous Dogs act scrapped and put in place a proper act based on behaviour not breed. The change can not come quick enough as far as many of us are concerned.
The DD act is very much abused. I know of one dog warden who has had what probably amounts upto a couple of hundred dogs destroyed as they are pit bull or pit bull types.
The destroyed dogs are Staffordshire Bull Terriers or crosses. And that info comes from veterinary staff, not some wannabe that wants to be an expert.
Certainly the decision is visual there is no DNA test l know of that can say otherwise. And l trust the veterinary staff’s judgements not the wannabe expert.
99.5% of the dogs have temperaments that range from big babies to very sweet. Only a few at most 0.5% have been nasty and were justifiable to be put down on grounds of temperament. I am told this cretin did a one day course and is now considers its self some sort of expert.
The dogs destroyed include puppies of barely 10weeks through all ages to dogs that are old and crippled. Once marked then there is no choice but to destroy them as there is no way any rescue home will touch them.
The persons behaviour is building an even more totally unjustifiable position on the pit bull breed, availability and temperament. Believe me a lot more dogs from other breeds deserve the title of dangerous a hell of a lot more.
If the rescue homes are full, if the dogs are injured or ill and cost has to be taken into account including rehab, if they have a behavioural problem. Then l can use reason and accept PTS (put to sleep) but on the grounds given l find it abhorrent and repulsive.
Ahh well thats my bit of a rant for tonight. I am off to walk Wibble and the inpatients and consider falling into my pit and awaiting the morning.
*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*
Mike just came in darn l lost my bet he only has a cold :-))
No more is that a problem, now l can eat kiwi fruit. The secret was found by accident. Before the 3 or so l have ever eaten l had peeled. The other day when l was looking at the fruit basket delivered to work l was drooling at the, for me, inedible kiwi fruit, l was told you can eat the skins.
I decided to take a chance as they did look nice. I discovered that if l eat kiwi fruit with the skin on, and make sure l get some skin in each mouthful (not hard given their size) l can eat them with only a very small after taste that goes within a few minutes and not the hours before.
On the subject of food l will be so glad when the hordes of Christmas chocolates are gone. No is a very flexible word with chocolates.
Speaking of insanity. Mike the vet has been away on a 2 day course on canoe rescue. He does a lot of canoeing. The thing is it is mid winter, it is many – below freezing and he said they will have to spend a lot of time in the river. We have a nice book running on if he comes back with a cold, frostbite or both, l hope both as thats what my money is on.
Just been having a read of veterinary type news and seen this which l may look at. I have tried Wibble on dog a car harnesses before but it end up all twisted and more of a danger than a help. And that was after one normal journey when all she did was sleep.
Being as how this is a Roger Mugfords Company of Animals item so l recon it should work.
Was cheered up reading an article that some liberal lord is trying to get the Dangerous Dogs act scrapped and put in place a proper act based on behaviour not breed. The change can not come quick enough as far as many of us are concerned.
The DD act is very much abused. I know of one dog warden who has had what probably amounts upto a couple of hundred dogs destroyed as they are pit bull or pit bull types.
The destroyed dogs are Staffordshire Bull Terriers or crosses. And that info comes from veterinary staff, not some wannabe that wants to be an expert.
Certainly the decision is visual there is no DNA test l know of that can say otherwise. And l trust the veterinary staff’s judgements not the wannabe expert.
99.5% of the dogs have temperaments that range from big babies to very sweet. Only a few at most 0.5% have been nasty and were justifiable to be put down on grounds of temperament. I am told this cretin did a one day course and is now considers its self some sort of expert.
The dogs destroyed include puppies of barely 10weeks through all ages to dogs that are old and crippled. Once marked then there is no choice but to destroy them as there is no way any rescue home will touch them.
The persons behaviour is building an even more totally unjustifiable position on the pit bull breed, availability and temperament. Believe me a lot more dogs from other breeds deserve the title of dangerous a hell of a lot more.
If the rescue homes are full, if the dogs are injured or ill and cost has to be taken into account including rehab, if they have a behavioural problem. Then l can use reason and accept PTS (put to sleep) but on the grounds given l find it abhorrent and repulsive.
Ahh well thats my bit of a rant for tonight. I am off to walk Wibble and the inpatients and consider falling into my pit and awaiting the morning.
*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*====*
Mike just came in darn l lost my bet he only has a cold :-))
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Needles and Volcano's
I was in Tenerife running the rescue kennels. It was the end of lunch. I had Pat one of the committee members/helpers with me and we were at the local garage that had a small café attached, when Elsie rang me.
“Oh hello dear” said Elsie “I have just been to the kennels with Frau Weigner and dropped a dog off there. Her English neighbours dumped him when they went back to UK. The thing is he is a bit nasty and only the neighbours and Frau Weigner can handle him. He may need putting down, she understands this. I will leave it to you goodbye dear”
I had learnt by now that Elsie’s little problems made me work. We went straight back to the kennels and found a white German Sheppard locked in a kennel. Blanco as he was called hated the world. Elsie was right this was a PTS dog, and had to be done ASAP l needed the only empty kennel for a dog due in later that day. No way would l trust Blanco in with any thing animal or human.
Pat stood at the bottom of the passage staring in horror at the dog. I pulled up a couple of syringes of Rompun a very strong sedative and got my homemade dog grab ready.
“Right l told her, when l grab and pin this bastard in the corner you stick those in him where ever you can and inject him” I told her.
“What? no way” she said going whiter than Blanco. “I am scared of needles and l faint when l see them, and no way am l going near that, it isn’t a dog it is a demon”.
“Belt up and get a grip on yourself. This needs sorting now so stop pissing about. Use these to practice with and get the feel of” I snapped with all the deep understanding l could muster. I shoved an empty syringe a needle and bottle of antibiotic into her hands.
Pat managed to draw up and inject it back into the bottle a few times but looked very ill.
**At this point health and safety shut your eyes and don’t read on**
“Right l said lets get this sorted” and got Blanco out and pinned in a corner. To be fair Pat was doing her best. I was not to keen but it was a case of needs must. A scared person waving a large amount of dangerous drugs around with a dangerous dog is not smart but had to be done.
There was one very close moment. Pat almost fainted. I pushed her backwards into the kennel walls so she wouldn’t go into the passage back/head first. This nearly allowed Blanco to get a hold of me as l had to loosen my grip on him, and while she was going into her faint Pat almost rammed me with the needle.
Still she didn’t faint, l think slamming into the kennel side woke her up. We got it done. When Blanco was asleep l put him down, and notified Elsie. Later l placed his body in the bins on the way home. In Tenerife there is no where to put bodies other than the tip. No animal crematorium and with volcanic rock no real place to bury bodies unless it was a farmers field or a beach. Somehow l think people would complain at those 2 areas. The other option was an area exploded with dynamite, again not viable, anyhow no sane person would let me loose with dynamite.
This should have been it, problem solved. Until 7am the next day when Elsie phoned me.
“Oh hello dear”
“What” l asked suspicious?
“That’s not very friendly dear”
“Elsie you never ring me at 7am and after yesterdays little gift l am very suspicious, back to my question what are you trying to do to kill me now”
“Oh dear” She sighed. “I did say he was a bit nasty, oh well all sorted and done. Anyway Frau Weigner wants to come and visit Blanco’s grave. She is very religious and feels she wants to see him on his way and say sorry it needed to be done”
“No problem l will take her to the bin l threw him in” I said
“No dear don’t be like that, she wants to visit his grave, can you not just do something”?
I drew a deep breath ”I can easily find the Basura wagon that collected the bin, the lads can tell me what part of the tip he went on how’s that”
“Not funny dear she will be with you later in the morning but l don’t know what time, l will leave you to sort it please be gentle she is very upset and religious”. Elsie rang off very quickly, by the time l could call on all the saints to drop a bomb on her.
My trip to work was done at about 90mph l did not even finish the coffee l was drinking. I rang Pat up on my way out off the house. She had been due in that morning. Her mother was on holiday staying with her and she was under extreme stress. A day with me was apparently less stressful than her mother. “I need you there now we have an emergency” was all the info l gave her and slammed the phone down before she could ask what was wrong.
Pat stared at me like l was crazy. The place was sitting on top of solid rock, only dynamite was going to dig a hole that’s why the animals went in the bin. Ok what about we pile up rock. Not easy the rock was attached to the volcano. So we settled for sweeping up sand and carrying it over to a clearer part between the cactuses.
I forgot to mention those didn’t l thousands of them in all the spare spaces very big plants with very sharp thorns. They made a rhino horn look small. Dead sections of cactus spread by wind lay all over "clear" areas. We managed to clear a section and pile up sand, pebbles and rocks to look kind off like a grave, assuming you were drunk, half blind and cross eyed that is.
We were just walking in when the Frau turned up. She was in tears, carrying a HUGE bouquet of flowers, a big black bible and a smaller book. Pat legged it and left me to handle things, the traitor. I took the Frau around the back and left her. She spent about 3 hours there. Reading stories saying prayers and singing hymns. She left the flowers on the grave. I threatened the council lads around with excommunication if they touched the flowers. Frau Weigner came back every day for about 3 days then once a week for almost a year until l left. She would sit by Blanco's "grave" and read peacefully with her umbrella up to shade her from the sun.
I do not know if she realised the grave was empty or not. I felt awful lying to her, but it gave her comfort and she was so grateful she gave the charity a huge donation.
“Oh hello dear” said Elsie “I have just been to the kennels with Frau Weigner and dropped a dog off there. Her English neighbours dumped him when they went back to UK. The thing is he is a bit nasty and only the neighbours and Frau Weigner can handle him. He may need putting down, she understands this. I will leave it to you goodbye dear”
I had learnt by now that Elsie’s little problems made me work. We went straight back to the kennels and found a white German Sheppard locked in a kennel. Blanco as he was called hated the world. Elsie was right this was a PTS dog, and had to be done ASAP l needed the only empty kennel for a dog due in later that day. No way would l trust Blanco in with any thing animal or human.
Pat stood at the bottom of the passage staring in horror at the dog. I pulled up a couple of syringes of Rompun a very strong sedative and got my homemade dog grab ready.
“Right l told her, when l grab and pin this bastard in the corner you stick those in him where ever you can and inject him” I told her.
“What? no way” she said going whiter than Blanco. “I am scared of needles and l faint when l see them, and no way am l going near that, it isn’t a dog it is a demon”.
“Belt up and get a grip on yourself. This needs sorting now so stop pissing about. Use these to practice with and get the feel of” I snapped with all the deep understanding l could muster. I shoved an empty syringe a needle and bottle of antibiotic into her hands.
Pat managed to draw up and inject it back into the bottle a few times but looked very ill.
**At this point health and safety shut your eyes and don’t read on**
“Right l said lets get this sorted” and got Blanco out and pinned in a corner. To be fair Pat was doing her best. I was not to keen but it was a case of needs must. A scared person waving a large amount of dangerous drugs around with a dangerous dog is not smart but had to be done.
There was one very close moment. Pat almost fainted. I pushed her backwards into the kennel walls so she wouldn’t go into the passage back/head first. This nearly allowed Blanco to get a hold of me as l had to loosen my grip on him, and while she was going into her faint Pat almost rammed me with the needle.
Still she didn’t faint, l think slamming into the kennel side woke her up. We got it done. When Blanco was asleep l put him down, and notified Elsie. Later l placed his body in the bins on the way home. In Tenerife there is no where to put bodies other than the tip. No animal crematorium and with volcanic rock no real place to bury bodies unless it was a farmers field or a beach. Somehow l think people would complain at those 2 areas. The other option was an area exploded with dynamite, again not viable, anyhow no sane person would let me loose with dynamite.
This should have been it, problem solved. Until 7am the next day when Elsie phoned me.
“Oh hello dear”
“What” l asked suspicious?
“That’s not very friendly dear”
“Elsie you never ring me at 7am and after yesterdays little gift l am very suspicious, back to my question what are you trying to do to kill me now”
“Oh dear” She sighed. “I did say he was a bit nasty, oh well all sorted and done. Anyway Frau Weigner wants to come and visit Blanco’s grave. She is very religious and feels she wants to see him on his way and say sorry it needed to be done”
“No problem l will take her to the bin l threw him in” I said
“No dear don’t be like that, she wants to visit his grave, can you not just do something”?
I drew a deep breath ”I can easily find the Basura wagon that collected the bin, the lads can tell me what part of the tip he went on how’s that”
“Not funny dear she will be with you later in the morning but l don’t know what time, l will leave you to sort it please be gentle she is very upset and religious”. Elsie rang off very quickly, by the time l could call on all the saints to drop a bomb on her.
My trip to work was done at about 90mph l did not even finish the coffee l was drinking. I rang Pat up on my way out off the house. She had been due in that morning. Her mother was on holiday staying with her and she was under extreme stress. A day with me was apparently less stressful than her mother. “I need you there now we have an emergency” was all the info l gave her and slammed the phone down before she could ask what was wrong.
Pat stared at me like l was crazy. The place was sitting on top of solid rock, only dynamite was going to dig a hole that’s why the animals went in the bin. Ok what about we pile up rock. Not easy the rock was attached to the volcano. So we settled for sweeping up sand and carrying it over to a clearer part between the cactuses.
I forgot to mention those didn’t l thousands of them in all the spare spaces very big plants with very sharp thorns. They made a rhino horn look small. Dead sections of cactus spread by wind lay all over "clear" areas. We managed to clear a section and pile up sand, pebbles and rocks to look kind off like a grave, assuming you were drunk, half blind and cross eyed that is.
We were just walking in when the Frau turned up. She was in tears, carrying a HUGE bouquet of flowers, a big black bible and a smaller book. Pat legged it and left me to handle things, the traitor. I took the Frau around the back and left her. She spent about 3 hours there. Reading stories saying prayers and singing hymns. She left the flowers on the grave. I threatened the council lads around with excommunication if they touched the flowers. Frau Weigner came back every day for about 3 days then once a week for almost a year until l left. She would sit by Blanco's "grave" and read peacefully with her umbrella up to shade her from the sun.
I do not know if she realised the grave was empty or not. I felt awful lying to her, but it gave her comfort and she was so grateful she gave the charity a huge donation.
Monday, 17 November 2008
The RTA & Franco
I was driving to the kennels one morning. I was setting up to turn left. (In Tenerife driving is on the other side of the road) when WHAM some idiot tail ends me. I was grateful for seatbelts, had l not had one l would have been in the wind shield and in a mess.
I pulled to the right hand side hard shoulder as did the person that rammed me, and half of Tenerife. If an accident takes place there are long lines of parked cars in Tenerife as people park up to go and look, and hopefully for them see blood. Thankfully there was none just shaken drivers.
I was very shaken and as it was going to involve police and explanations, my language skills, normally ok at that moment had gone down to nil, l could not even think of the word for "hello". I was shaking and l guess in a mild shock, l knew l needed help so l rang Elsie who was fluent in spanish.
While waiting for her, the guys from the rubbish (basura) depot, stationed on the section above the kennels, came over to help. They were always very helpful and a nice bunch. They insisted while l waited for the police l go and wait in the depot.
As l walked in l saw Franco the Presa Canario (bull mastiff breed) chained up. He was loose at night and named Franco after General Franco as he was so nasty. Everyone but those that handled him avoided him. He was all business. After he almost killed a couple of would be thieves the basura yard was left well alone. There was better targets.
Down along from him was the German Sheppard about 8months old called Eccle. It was the nearest l came to pronouncing his name, but he seemed happy with the way l said it. Eccle was too sweet to be nasty. I gave him his vaccinations and regular cuddles, treated his cut foot and gave him his medication. I got nothing but slobbery kisses back. Everyone agreed he would not make a good guard dog but they liked him, so he stayed.
As l say, I was upset and defiantly not thinking right. I walked up and started to stroke Franco. There was total stillness even Eccle was heard to draw in a gasp in shock. One of Franco’s handlers saw what was going on but was to far away to do anything. Franco looked at me for all of 30 seconds… then he attacked.
Before anything could register in my head, both of my hands were deep in his mouth and he was ragging his head trying to rip my hands off my arms. Everyone was staring in horror even Franco’s handlers were not sure what to do. *They had not ever seen anything like this, although handlers they fed him and kept an eye on him but were not trained.
The fact he was chained had saved my life, there is no doubt about that. He was an attack dog, trained to work on his own without command and had an idiot in front of him. Normally he would let go when the person who he was eating had escaped, he was bored of their taste, the person was dead or if the person was lucky and the handlers* were around if they could persuare him to let go.
At moments like this the world clears and everything goes into slow motion.
I knew that he would not be able to come forward due to the chain, and he would want a better grip at some point. So l put my weight backwards and stood as still as the ragging would allow. The only sensible thing l could do, given the stupid thing l had just done. Not easy though when a 50+kg bull mastiff is doing his best to rip your hands off.
As Franco tried to get a better grip his mouth opened enough that my backward leaning weight pulled me free.
I stumbled backwards pouring blood from both badly bitten hands and lower arms. This broke the tableau around me and everyone came running. I yelled to everyone NOT to blame Franco leave him it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. His handlers were trying to calm him without getting bitten. Elsie had turned up just as it exploded and l was yelling at her to translate. She was trying follow what l was saying, speak to the lads and examine my hands to see how bad the damage was.
As things subsided Franco was pushed off to sit in his kennel growling and licking my blood off his lips.
Elsie herded me back to wait in the car for the police, l was still yelling not to blame Franco over my shoulder. The basura men went off shaking their heads at the confirmation l was weird.
I had just placed my backside in the car, l am told l was white as a sheet. Elsie was trying to find something to stem the blood when the police turned up. I had seen them around town in the past and they had looked round the kennels. Many police and Guardia civil did. They looked at my damaged and bleeding hands and you could see the wheels turning in their head. The car was hit from behind and l was pouring blood from my hands and arms but there was nothing to cut myself on and no blood in the car just around the car.
Elsie chimed in trying to be helpful that the dog bit me. I was now in a fairly deep shock and remember saying over and over don’t you go blame Franco it wasn’t his fault it was mine.
Of course there was no dog around which added to their confusion, had l been able to l would have laughed but nothing seemed real.
The police decided that l was not worth speaking to. They wanted a nice simple report not lunatic babbling females, invisible dogs and bleeding hands so went to speak to the person that whacked my car. They asked Elsie to get me to the hospital if she wouldn’t mind. I never spoke to them again nor did they ask me for papers etc.
I found out later from the Basura guys that the Police booked the person behind me for dangerous driving. (driving to closely and driving to fast)
The basura men continued to help and kept an eye on my car while l was at the hospital and one of them checked that all the dogs in the kennels were ok and had water. They were always brilliant, which is more than l can say about the general council workers (bar 2) based at the lower depot, but that’s another story.
At the clinic yet another argument, the Dr said dangerous dogs and l let loose. Not the dog’s fault it was mine.
“No no he and the nurse were saying it was the dogs fault”
Don’t you dare blame him he was doing his job… Elsie tell them l won’t have Franco blamed”
There was a little crowd gathered now and poor Elsie was getting flustered again trying to explain what had happened to the crowd, calm me down, and translate my ravings. I did not need a translation back for what the others were saying. "Loco" (crazy) featured strongly.
I have this feeling the clinic were pleased to see me go. The nurse rammed an anti tetanus into my backside, but l didn’t feel a thing. My hands had a decoration of steri strips patterning them. The Dr wanted to do more, but l just wanted to get out and check my dogs, so we compromised and l had a list of antibiotics, with instructions to keep my hands clean and if they broke down or looked nasty to go back asap. They didn't exactly look nice at that point, but he did not see the humour in my comment when l said that.
Hub came over to help that day as did Judith and Elsie. We managed to get things sorted. It took about a week before l could hold anything, great for dieting. Even then it was sore as hell, but l couldn’t sit on the side so started to work again. I felt that my helpers had enough to do without trying to run their lives and the kennels while l sat around feeling sorry for myself and giving them orders.
I am pleased to say that Franco was not blamed, it was all allowed to die down. I think they were too scared to do anything as they would have had to deal with me, and there was probably doubt on my sanity!!.
Franco and l would look warily at each other from a distance. Me thinking of his teeth Franco wondering if he could do a better job if there was a replay.
I gave him and Eccle a bag of treats by way of apology for bringing confusion into a nice normal morning.
Many thanks to Judith, Elsie, the basura men, and all those who helped me out that week.
I pulled to the right hand side hard shoulder as did the person that rammed me, and half of Tenerife. If an accident takes place there are long lines of parked cars in Tenerife as people park up to go and look, and hopefully for them see blood. Thankfully there was none just shaken drivers.
I was very shaken and as it was going to involve police and explanations, my language skills, normally ok at that moment had gone down to nil, l could not even think of the word for "hello". I was shaking and l guess in a mild shock, l knew l needed help so l rang Elsie who was fluent in spanish.
While waiting for her, the guys from the rubbish (basura) depot, stationed on the section above the kennels, came over to help. They were always very helpful and a nice bunch. They insisted while l waited for the police l go and wait in the depot.
As l walked in l saw Franco the Presa Canario (bull mastiff breed) chained up. He was loose at night and named Franco after General Franco as he was so nasty. Everyone but those that handled him avoided him. He was all business. After he almost killed a couple of would be thieves the basura yard was left well alone. There was better targets.
Down along from him was the German Sheppard about 8months old called Eccle. It was the nearest l came to pronouncing his name, but he seemed happy with the way l said it. Eccle was too sweet to be nasty. I gave him his vaccinations and regular cuddles, treated his cut foot and gave him his medication. I got nothing but slobbery kisses back. Everyone agreed he would not make a good guard dog but they liked him, so he stayed.
As l say, I was upset and defiantly not thinking right. I walked up and started to stroke Franco. There was total stillness even Eccle was heard to draw in a gasp in shock. One of Franco’s handlers saw what was going on but was to far away to do anything. Franco looked at me for all of 30 seconds… then he attacked.
Before anything could register in my head, both of my hands were deep in his mouth and he was ragging his head trying to rip my hands off my arms. Everyone was staring in horror even Franco’s handlers were not sure what to do. *They had not ever seen anything like this, although handlers they fed him and kept an eye on him but were not trained.
The fact he was chained had saved my life, there is no doubt about that. He was an attack dog, trained to work on his own without command and had an idiot in front of him. Normally he would let go when the person who he was eating had escaped, he was bored of their taste, the person was dead or if the person was lucky and the handlers* were around if they could persuare him to let go.
At moments like this the world clears and everything goes into slow motion.
I knew that he would not be able to come forward due to the chain, and he would want a better grip at some point. So l put my weight backwards and stood as still as the ragging would allow. The only sensible thing l could do, given the stupid thing l had just done. Not easy though when a 50+kg bull mastiff is doing his best to rip your hands off.
As Franco tried to get a better grip his mouth opened enough that my backward leaning weight pulled me free.
I stumbled backwards pouring blood from both badly bitten hands and lower arms. This broke the tableau around me and everyone came running. I yelled to everyone NOT to blame Franco leave him it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. His handlers were trying to calm him without getting bitten. Elsie had turned up just as it exploded and l was yelling at her to translate. She was trying follow what l was saying, speak to the lads and examine my hands to see how bad the damage was.
As things subsided Franco was pushed off to sit in his kennel growling and licking my blood off his lips.
Elsie herded me back to wait in the car for the police, l was still yelling not to blame Franco over my shoulder. The basura men went off shaking their heads at the confirmation l was weird.
I had just placed my backside in the car, l am told l was white as a sheet. Elsie was trying to find something to stem the blood when the police turned up. I had seen them around town in the past and they had looked round the kennels. Many police and Guardia civil did. They looked at my damaged and bleeding hands and you could see the wheels turning in their head. The car was hit from behind and l was pouring blood from my hands and arms but there was nothing to cut myself on and no blood in the car just around the car.
Elsie chimed in trying to be helpful that the dog bit me. I was now in a fairly deep shock and remember saying over and over don’t you go blame Franco it wasn’t his fault it was mine.
Of course there was no dog around which added to their confusion, had l been able to l would have laughed but nothing seemed real.
The police decided that l was not worth speaking to. They wanted a nice simple report not lunatic babbling females, invisible dogs and bleeding hands so went to speak to the person that whacked my car. They asked Elsie to get me to the hospital if she wouldn’t mind. I never spoke to them again nor did they ask me for papers etc.
I found out later from the Basura guys that the Police booked the person behind me for dangerous driving. (driving to closely and driving to fast)
The basura men continued to help and kept an eye on my car while l was at the hospital and one of them checked that all the dogs in the kennels were ok and had water. They were always brilliant, which is more than l can say about the general council workers (bar 2) based at the lower depot, but that’s another story.
At the clinic yet another argument, the Dr said dangerous dogs and l let loose. Not the dog’s fault it was mine.
“No no he and the nurse were saying it was the dogs fault”
Don’t you dare blame him he was doing his job… Elsie tell them l won’t have Franco blamed”
There was a little crowd gathered now and poor Elsie was getting flustered again trying to explain what had happened to the crowd, calm me down, and translate my ravings. I did not need a translation back for what the others were saying. "Loco" (crazy) featured strongly.
I have this feeling the clinic were pleased to see me go. The nurse rammed an anti tetanus into my backside, but l didn’t feel a thing. My hands had a decoration of steri strips patterning them. The Dr wanted to do more, but l just wanted to get out and check my dogs, so we compromised and l had a list of antibiotics, with instructions to keep my hands clean and if they broke down or looked nasty to go back asap. They didn't exactly look nice at that point, but he did not see the humour in my comment when l said that.
Hub came over to help that day as did Judith and Elsie. We managed to get things sorted. It took about a week before l could hold anything, great for dieting. Even then it was sore as hell, but l couldn’t sit on the side so started to work again. I felt that my helpers had enough to do without trying to run their lives and the kennels while l sat around feeling sorry for myself and giving them orders.
I am pleased to say that Franco was not blamed, it was all allowed to die down. I think they were too scared to do anything as they would have had to deal with me, and there was probably doubt on my sanity!!.
Franco and l would look warily at each other from a distance. Me thinking of his teeth Franco wondering if he could do a better job if there was a replay.
I gave him and Eccle a bag of treats by way of apology for bringing confusion into a nice normal morning.
Many thanks to Judith, Elsie, the basura men, and all those who helped me out that week.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
The Dangerous Dog
I decided to put up about a dangerous dog incident l was involved with at the start of the year. The dogs behaviour is not unusual for what is faced when we get calls for dangerous dogs, if anything the animals are getting worse not better.
Several times we have been told the ARV have been activated but as far as l know our drivers have managed to get the animals before they were needed. I am sure it will come soon though the way things are going.
There was a phone call about 1am from the police for a pit bull that was locked in a bedroom and out of control. The owner had been arrested just before new year, he had been bailed that day, about 5 days later. Normally people inform the police that they have animals and the animals are taken into care, this cretin did not think to do so.
He had gone home via a bar and at about midnight tried to break into his own house. A neighbour heard him breaking in and rang the police. The cretin tried to take a swing at them and got a nice pair of shiny bracelts, the neighbour mentioned the dog. There was no point getting the cretin to try and catch it as he couldn’t handle it and was scared of it, hence wanting it put down.
He signed a handwritten consent for destruction order and was hauled off someplace deep, dark, smelly and full of cockroaches (well ok, it would be nice if he was thrown into a place like that).
The vet asked me to go with the driver P. (same driver as the “Midnight Snake Hunt” episode). He said it would be safer and easier to put it down at the house than taking it back wards and forwards from the house and then putting it down back at work.
I loaded up with a bottle of rompun (sedative) a lot of needles, big syringes and a bottle of pentobarb (to put the dog down with).
By the time we got there someone had tazered the dog and managed to get it into the human cage section in a police van. This was a mixed blessing. We did not have to try and grab him in an open space like a bedroom, but he was now round and pumped up on adrenaline. Had he been left in the bedroom he may have been easier to handle. That however is an unknown and the situation was now the one to deal with.
He was not happy, in fact it was fair to say he was murderous. About 30kg to 40 kg of mainly pitbull possibly crossed at some point with bull mastiff, mind you that was immaterial, he wanted, and was fully able to kill.
I did check up if l should take it back into work with the van following us but the vet was just going into a major op, l was told stick to plan A.
The van the dog was in had a cage affair at the back. The inner door was a slider and the outer (back) was an standard pull open door. It made life easier, the door could be slid slightly open for P. and the police dog handler that was also there to try and get their dog grabs on the dog. Sliding meant he could not slam into it like an exocet missile and get the door open.
When they had their front end sorted I was to open the back door and inject him while they held him.
Simple enough except the dog had worked out dog grabs. He ducked his head, swung his body around, opened his mouth and grabbed the loops, slammened into the doors and made clear he was not stupid enopugh to get caught.
He also got his jaws onto all 3 metal dog catching poles at various times that P. and the dog handler had between them. They were mangled, that necessitated emergency fixing.
And a quick prayer from me, that when they did grab him he would not break free, swing and get me when l shoved a syringe of Rompun into him.
Some plod (none to bright) muttered tazers. P. and l heard him, l have an idea that my snarl and and P. comment made him think that maybe the pitbull was not as angry as we would be if they did that to it again.
The poor dog was in for a bad enough end as it was, we were dammed if it was going to be made worse. No dignity here as it was, anger and fear were the way he was going to die. No one, was going to add the pain of tazers to that.
It took a good 3/4hour of fighting to get the loops onto him. By now there seemed to be a hell of a lot of police standing round, they must have had a boring night, or wanted to see someone eaten.
I pulled open the door, eyeing the loops on the dog catchers to see if they looked secure. I planted about 8ml+ of Romun into his backside as best as l could, given that his backside was moving all over as he fought to get free of the grabs and get to me he came off the needle a couple of times and l needed to reinject.
I backed off and locked the door, he broke out of the loops at about the same point. There is a god! He let me get out the van and shut the door first.
We sat back and waited, 20 min. later there was no sign of any effect he was so pumped up with everything. I rang the vet to confirm worth giving more as usually there is no point on adding as it won’t have an effect. The message passed back was go for it given what was happening another dose may or may not work, but unless tried we wouldn’t know.
This time it took about 10min to get the dog, not sure if it was a slight slowing down on his part or just better aim with the grabbers. I put in several more mls of Rompun in and thankfully he did not get off the grabbers this time.
By now he had had a huge dose of sedative and we sat waiting. The reason l did not use the pentobarb straight off is that if something had gone wrong and l self injected or injected someone by accident if the dog got free while l was trying to get the needle in then l would rather not be using a drug that can kill.
Finally about 20min later he went down enough that when the grabbers went onto him he chomped at them but did not stand up. Now there was no point in top up’s of Rompun and it was time for the final injection.
I decided that veins were out of the question. I could not get anyone to raise one l wouldn’t risk that, and my tornique was no good as he was to concious. Trouble was l could not leave it longer in case he started to fight off effects off the drug. I opted for an injection into the kidney. Due to the blood volume going through the kidneys it can be better than a vein. On dogs they can be hard to find if they are fat but his build made it easy. In under a minute he had died.
It was so bloody undignified and scary for him. I wished eternal hell and damnation on the owner, yes the dog was dangerous but only thanks the human race.
Not all pitbulls are nasty, it is just that they are generally owned by people who have them to prove how tough they are. In fact l belive that the dog that holds the most championship medals for various tests about 17 is a pitbull. The championship medals include hearding ducks and cattle, searching in fact a whole gamut of tests.
The dangerous dog in question could have been and often is a German Shepherd, a Rotweiller or any other full or even cross breed. So long as it is big, nasty, unmanagable and has big teeth it uses then the &*%$** are happy.
The other type of dangerous dog is owned by a well meaning nice family who do not understand dogs, have self trained it, if any training was done on the dog and it turns on them or someone.
P. had just got back to work after an operation and was not going to try and help lift the body to our van, I would not have been happy had he tried. This left the 15 or so police (all males) standing round watching and chatting.
I considered asking for help but decided that as none was a gentleman enough to stepforward and offer to help l was dammed if l would ask for help.
I picked the dog up carried him to our van and placed him down as gently as l could. It did not matter, he was dead, somehow it seemed the best l could offer him after all he had been through.
Several times we have been told the ARV have been activated but as far as l know our drivers have managed to get the animals before they were needed. I am sure it will come soon though the way things are going.
There was a phone call about 1am from the police for a pit bull that was locked in a bedroom and out of control. The owner had been arrested just before new year, he had been bailed that day, about 5 days later. Normally people inform the police that they have animals and the animals are taken into care, this cretin did not think to do so.
He had gone home via a bar and at about midnight tried to break into his own house. A neighbour heard him breaking in and rang the police. The cretin tried to take a swing at them and got a nice pair of shiny bracelts, the neighbour mentioned the dog. There was no point getting the cretin to try and catch it as he couldn’t handle it and was scared of it, hence wanting it put down.
He signed a handwritten consent for destruction order and was hauled off someplace deep, dark, smelly and full of cockroaches (well ok, it would be nice if he was thrown into a place like that).
The vet asked me to go with the driver P. (same driver as the “Midnight Snake Hunt” episode). He said it would be safer and easier to put it down at the house than taking it back wards and forwards from the house and then putting it down back at work.
I loaded up with a bottle of rompun (sedative) a lot of needles, big syringes and a bottle of pentobarb (to put the dog down with).
By the time we got there someone had tazered the dog and managed to get it into the human cage section in a police van. This was a mixed blessing. We did not have to try and grab him in an open space like a bedroom, but he was now round and pumped up on adrenaline. Had he been left in the bedroom he may have been easier to handle. That however is an unknown and the situation was now the one to deal with.
He was not happy, in fact it was fair to say he was murderous. About 30kg to 40 kg of mainly pitbull possibly crossed at some point with bull mastiff, mind you that was immaterial, he wanted, and was fully able to kill.
I did check up if l should take it back into work with the van following us but the vet was just going into a major op, l was told stick to plan A.
The van the dog was in had a cage affair at the back. The inner door was a slider and the outer (back) was an standard pull open door. It made life easier, the door could be slid slightly open for P. and the police dog handler that was also there to try and get their dog grabs on the dog. Sliding meant he could not slam into it like an exocet missile and get the door open.
When they had their front end sorted I was to open the back door and inject him while they held him.
Simple enough except the dog had worked out dog grabs. He ducked his head, swung his body around, opened his mouth and grabbed the loops, slammened into the doors and made clear he was not stupid enopugh to get caught.
He also got his jaws onto all 3 metal dog catching poles at various times that P. and the dog handler had between them. They were mangled, that necessitated emergency fixing.
And a quick prayer from me, that when they did grab him he would not break free, swing and get me when l shoved a syringe of Rompun into him.
Some plod (none to bright) muttered tazers. P. and l heard him, l have an idea that my snarl and and P. comment made him think that maybe the pitbull was not as angry as we would be if they did that to it again.
The poor dog was in for a bad enough end as it was, we were dammed if it was going to be made worse. No dignity here as it was, anger and fear were the way he was going to die. No one, was going to add the pain of tazers to that.
It took a good 3/4hour of fighting to get the loops onto him. By now there seemed to be a hell of a lot of police standing round, they must have had a boring night, or wanted to see someone eaten.
I pulled open the door, eyeing the loops on the dog catchers to see if they looked secure. I planted about 8ml+ of Romun into his backside as best as l could, given that his backside was moving all over as he fought to get free of the grabs and get to me he came off the needle a couple of times and l needed to reinject.
I backed off and locked the door, he broke out of the loops at about the same point. There is a god! He let me get out the van and shut the door first.
We sat back and waited, 20 min. later there was no sign of any effect he was so pumped up with everything. I rang the vet to confirm worth giving more as usually there is no point on adding as it won’t have an effect. The message passed back was go for it given what was happening another dose may or may not work, but unless tried we wouldn’t know.
This time it took about 10min to get the dog, not sure if it was a slight slowing down on his part or just better aim with the grabbers. I put in several more mls of Rompun in and thankfully he did not get off the grabbers this time.
By now he had had a huge dose of sedative and we sat waiting. The reason l did not use the pentobarb straight off is that if something had gone wrong and l self injected or injected someone by accident if the dog got free while l was trying to get the needle in then l would rather not be using a drug that can kill.
Finally about 20min later he went down enough that when the grabbers went onto him he chomped at them but did not stand up. Now there was no point in top up’s of Rompun and it was time for the final injection.
I decided that veins were out of the question. I could not get anyone to raise one l wouldn’t risk that, and my tornique was no good as he was to concious. Trouble was l could not leave it longer in case he started to fight off effects off the drug. I opted for an injection into the kidney. Due to the blood volume going through the kidneys it can be better than a vein. On dogs they can be hard to find if they are fat but his build made it easy. In under a minute he had died.
It was so bloody undignified and scary for him. I wished eternal hell and damnation on the owner, yes the dog was dangerous but only thanks the human race.
Not all pitbulls are nasty, it is just that they are generally owned by people who have them to prove how tough they are. In fact l belive that the dog that holds the most championship medals for various tests about 17 is a pitbull. The championship medals include hearding ducks and cattle, searching in fact a whole gamut of tests.
The dangerous dog in question could have been and often is a German Shepherd, a Rotweiller or any other full or even cross breed. So long as it is big, nasty, unmanagable and has big teeth it uses then the &*%$** are happy.
The other type of dangerous dog is owned by a well meaning nice family who do not understand dogs, have self trained it, if any training was done on the dog and it turns on them or someone.
P. had just got back to work after an operation and was not going to try and help lift the body to our van, I would not have been happy had he tried. This left the 15 or so police (all males) standing round watching and chatting.
I considered asking for help but decided that as none was a gentleman enough to stepforward and offer to help l was dammed if l would ask for help.
I picked the dog up carried him to our van and placed him down as gently as l could. It did not matter, he was dead, somehow it seemed the best l could offer him after all he had been through.
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Glasses
The rottie (rotweiler) was being admitted as being generally off colour. I went to collect her from the consult room.
She was making some strange noises, not a growl and not a whimper. I asked if she was friendly, number1 question with certain breeds especially in view of the sounds she was making.
“Oh that’s her normal noise, she is always speaking, and she is the sweetest natured dog” said her owner.
Well my instinct was get a muzzle, with the noise she was making, however she seemed very quiet. I took her through to the prep. room.
We lifted her onto the table, she was quiet so easy to handle at a height. We were not going to put a drip on her unless needed just handy to have iv access and certain drugs could go that route.
There was an iv catheter ready to go, the vet clipped the rotties leg and l raised the vein.
The vet just touched the leg with the iv catheter and the “bitch” swung round taking one bite at my face. One top canine tooth slid under my glasses and cut just under my eye, the other canine tooth hit the glass part of my glasses and deflected.
She swung back and gazed at the wall as if nothing had happened. She was laying the ground rules. No fear biting, no attack mode just a short and simple message “back off or next time l won’t stop”
The vet and l were both shaken, “before you wash your face get those owners in here to hold her while we muzzle her, l want them to see what their sweet dog has done” she said, although not so politely.
Fine by me, l caught them at the desk and they were making all kinds of horrified noises about her, and my face . They went back to help with a muzzle while l washed my face. I could not believe how lucky l was that l was wearing my glasses, and that she had only bitten once. Many dogs wont just bite once but do a follow through of bites several times.
Come morning, and a few more growls from the “bitch” l stressed to the change over nurse to be careful and that the owners should come down to collect the “bitch”. With my bruised face as evidence that was a good enough warning. Apparently she had a few growls though the morning as well.
The owners came to collect her and were asked to go down the back and collect her and hold her while the catheter was taken out.
Now comes the part that makes me very angry. Up to now l can accept that l should have muzzled her. I did allow my instincts to be over ruled by the “sweet nature” comments. The owners turned round and said.
“Oh you do not need to worry she has never bitten anyone she is so sweet brilliant with everyone”.
It was pointed out that she had bitten the nurse in the face the night before and they at this point tried to deny that this had ever happened.
It did not work they were made to collect and hold her for the iv catheter removal. They went off with a dog that was by now bouncing and happy, to be going home. The dogs file was marked up as a **Watch Bites** Obviously the owners are unreliable.
A lot of dogs and cats do transform from nice to nasty in a surgery. We may cuss a ton but at the end of the day it is stressful for them, they are just reacting.
The point that makes vet staff’s blood boil is when you ask what an animal is like temperament wise and you get assured it is “so sweet butter would not melt in the mouth”.
At collection, the owner on being told that it tried to eat someone says "oh yes she/he does that"
Far better to be honest and say “Well normally he/she is sweet but….” just adding that but, can save someone a lot of damage.
It is nothing to be ashamed of, vet practices are a high stress situation and the owners know their dog. No one is saying that the dog should be put down for being dangerous. They want it made well, all that veterinary staff ask for is a little honesty to help keep them safe while treating the patient.
Even when standing there it is attempting to eat you some owners will still deny the dog has an unfriendly side.
Since the incident l routinely muzzle all rotties that need work done on them unless l know they are 100% safe, and l only know about 4 like that. It makes life easier and safer.
Actually a lot of breeds are routinely muzzled at vet’s. Anyone who objects to their little darling being muzzled has not been on the receiving end of a pair of flashing fangs.
She was making some strange noises, not a growl and not a whimper. I asked if she was friendly, number1 question with certain breeds especially in view of the sounds she was making.
“Oh that’s her normal noise, she is always speaking, and she is the sweetest natured dog” said her owner.
Well my instinct was get a muzzle, with the noise she was making, however she seemed very quiet. I took her through to the prep. room.
We lifted her onto the table, she was quiet so easy to handle at a height. We were not going to put a drip on her unless needed just handy to have iv access and certain drugs could go that route.
There was an iv catheter ready to go, the vet clipped the rotties leg and l raised the vein.
The vet just touched the leg with the iv catheter and the “bitch” swung round taking one bite at my face. One top canine tooth slid under my glasses and cut just under my eye, the other canine tooth hit the glass part of my glasses and deflected.
She swung back and gazed at the wall as if nothing had happened. She was laying the ground rules. No fear biting, no attack mode just a short and simple message “back off or next time l won’t stop”
The vet and l were both shaken, “before you wash your face get those owners in here to hold her while we muzzle her, l want them to see what their sweet dog has done” she said, although not so politely.
Fine by me, l caught them at the desk and they were making all kinds of horrified noises about her, and my face . They went back to help with a muzzle while l washed my face. I could not believe how lucky l was that l was wearing my glasses, and that she had only bitten once. Many dogs wont just bite once but do a follow through of bites several times.
Come morning, and a few more growls from the “bitch” l stressed to the change over nurse to be careful and that the owners should come down to collect the “bitch”. With my bruised face as evidence that was a good enough warning. Apparently she had a few growls though the morning as well.
The owners came to collect her and were asked to go down the back and collect her and hold her while the catheter was taken out.
Now comes the part that makes me very angry. Up to now l can accept that l should have muzzled her. I did allow my instincts to be over ruled by the “sweet nature” comments. The owners turned round and said.
“Oh you do not need to worry she has never bitten anyone she is so sweet brilliant with everyone”.
It was pointed out that she had bitten the nurse in the face the night before and they at this point tried to deny that this had ever happened.
It did not work they were made to collect and hold her for the iv catheter removal. They went off with a dog that was by now bouncing and happy, to be going home. The dogs file was marked up as a **Watch Bites** Obviously the owners are unreliable.
A lot of dogs and cats do transform from nice to nasty in a surgery. We may cuss a ton but at the end of the day it is stressful for them, they are just reacting.
The point that makes vet staff’s blood boil is when you ask what an animal is like temperament wise and you get assured it is “so sweet butter would not melt in the mouth”.
At collection, the owner on being told that it tried to eat someone says "oh yes she/he does that"
Far better to be honest and say “Well normally he/she is sweet but….” just adding that but, can save someone a lot of damage.
It is nothing to be ashamed of, vet practices are a high stress situation and the owners know their dog. No one is saying that the dog should be put down for being dangerous. They want it made well, all that veterinary staff ask for is a little honesty to help keep them safe while treating the patient.
Even when standing there it is attempting to eat you some owners will still deny the dog has an unfriendly side.
Since the incident l routinely muzzle all rotties that need work done on them unless l know they are 100% safe, and l only know about 4 like that. It makes life easier and safer.
Actually a lot of breeds are routinely muzzled at vet’s. Anyone who objects to their little darling being muzzled has not been on the receiving end of a pair of flashing fangs.
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
The Rugby Tackle
It was 2am in the early hours when sensible people were asleep. I was checking inpatients and giving medications. The vet and 2nd (and only other duty nurse) were carrying out an operation on a German Shepherd for a ruptured spleen. Something that the breed is well known for once they reach about 8years old.
The doorbell rang and the auxiliary appeared down the back with a Weinerama that had sliced its leg open and was bleeding through his home made dressing. In fact the passage was a path of bloody footprints.
The dog had the wary eye that behoved us to be careful, the pearly white teeth that showed under the slowly raising lip also gave a strong clue.
I tied him up and asked her to print a quick consent form. I grabbed all we needed for a pressure dressing, had a quick dig through the muzzle bin till l found one that looked like it would fit, and got a drugs regime from the vet.
The auxiliary came back and we got the muzzle on (l shall call him Fang), and managed to lay Fang on his side on the floor, this gave us slightly better control over him. Anyway he was to big to get onto the table fighting against us. Fang may have lost a lot of blood but his temper had not run out with the blood.
The aux. had her hands full holding Fang down and as still as possible. l wrapped a quick tornique and took the owners dressing off. We ducked and avoided the spurt that shot up. It only added a bit more to the mess already on the floor and us, I got my dressing started.
By now we all looked we had bathed in red paint. I had almost done the first layer when fang decided he had had enough. Up came the 2 front legs, grabbed his muzzle and with a wrench it was off.
He sprang at the pair of us, l tripped over the bandages and went flying, his dressing came off and my tornique unclipped as the artery forceps twanged apart.
Teeth bared he headed for me on the floor but thankfully the aux. pulled off a tackle a rugby player would have been proud of. She flung herself onto him and he slid on the blood and fell over. I recovered and slammed the muzzle back, and made it even tighter.
Finally the leg was dressed with several firmly applied layers and he was given his drugs, and placed in a walk in kennel still muzzled.
The vet and other nurse appeared about 5 minutes later and made the smug comment that we made more mess with our simple cut leg, than they did removing a spleen.
I wish l removed the muzzle in revenge and made them get Fang out for his op to suture the wound.
The ungrateful beast went home the next day, after kennel guarding and doing his best to eat us. I was so glad that l was not going to be doing his op check and leg redressing.
The doorbell rang and the auxiliary appeared down the back with a Weinerama that had sliced its leg open and was bleeding through his home made dressing. In fact the passage was a path of bloody footprints.
The dog had the wary eye that behoved us to be careful, the pearly white teeth that showed under the slowly raising lip also gave a strong clue.
I tied him up and asked her to print a quick consent form. I grabbed all we needed for a pressure dressing, had a quick dig through the muzzle bin till l found one that looked like it would fit, and got a drugs regime from the vet.
The auxiliary came back and we got the muzzle on (l shall call him Fang), and managed to lay Fang on his side on the floor, this gave us slightly better control over him. Anyway he was to big to get onto the table fighting against us. Fang may have lost a lot of blood but his temper had not run out with the blood.
The aux. had her hands full holding Fang down and as still as possible. l wrapped a quick tornique and took the owners dressing off. We ducked and avoided the spurt that shot up. It only added a bit more to the mess already on the floor and us, I got my dressing started.
By now we all looked we had bathed in red paint. I had almost done the first layer when fang decided he had had enough. Up came the 2 front legs, grabbed his muzzle and with a wrench it was off.
He sprang at the pair of us, l tripped over the bandages and went flying, his dressing came off and my tornique unclipped as the artery forceps twanged apart.
Teeth bared he headed for me on the floor but thankfully the aux. pulled off a tackle a rugby player would have been proud of. She flung herself onto him and he slid on the blood and fell over. I recovered and slammed the muzzle back, and made it even tighter.
Finally the leg was dressed with several firmly applied layers and he was given his drugs, and placed in a walk in kennel still muzzled.
The vet and other nurse appeared about 5 minutes later and made the smug comment that we made more mess with our simple cut leg, than they did removing a spleen.
I wish l removed the muzzle in revenge and made them get Fang out for his op to suture the wound.
The ungrateful beast went home the next day, after kennel guarding and doing his best to eat us. I was so glad that l was not going to be doing his op check and leg redressing.
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