Careful, She Bites
Dec. 6th, 2007 07:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyspriteOne of the major risks in my line of work is, obviously, injury from animals. While we primates are smarter and, for the most part, stronger than our patients, they tend to have a lot more in the way of innate weaponry - and we're hampered by not wanting to hurt them, while many of my patients have no such compunctions when it comes to me.
As a profession we have come up with many tricks to help even the odds in this sort of situation, involving the use of everything from muzzles and welding gloves to fishing nets and spaceman-like bubble helmets for little smush-face dogs. And for cats, at least, when all else fails, we have The Tank.
The Tank (or, to give it its proper medical name, the Induction Chamber) looks like a modified fish tank with a wide opening lid and in and out valves that connect to an anesthesia machine. A cat can be slid directly from its carrier into the tank, the lid slid on with relatively little risk to human fingers, and oxygen and anesthesia flow in until kitty is happily asleep. This is called tanking down, and it's a genius invention - one that allows us to examine many cats that would otherwise be getting their vaccines via blowdart. However, in order to OK a cat for The Tank, we still need to try to examine them first - just to make sure that they're healthy enough for general anesthesia. Sometimes this is harder than it seems; other times not so much.
Not too long ago, f'rinstance, I had a morning appointment booked for a new client who wanted to leave their cat for a tank-down, checkup, and full-body shave. Not surprising; many cats that need that level of sedation for an exam are tough for the owners to groom at home. But when I brought the owner into the exam room first, they started to get upset.
I tried to explain that we needed to look at their pet first, and at least try to get some cursory physical information. The owner tried to discourage me, warning me that this cat had lacerated and bitten several doctors and that noone had ever been able to get so much as a peep at her while she was awake. I explained our requirements, and they tried to indicate that I was clearly insane and had a death wish.
Cats can honestly be vicious, and I admit I'd rather deal with an irate dog than an evil cat any day - cats are pointy in five places, have a sly cunning about how to trick humans, and possess the disturbing ability to flex their spine in ways no vertebrate should in order to turn inside out in your grip and slay you. So I did take the client's warning seriously. My tech and I both put on heavy leather gloves, and, finding the biggest towel I could, I assumed the position of catcher as my tech stood back, opened the carrier door, and tilted it towards me.
Out sauntered the cutest, fluffiest cat I've ever seen.
"Don't touch her! She'll take your arm off!" cautioned the owner, as the cat sat down on the wadded towel and started nuzzling her chin against my leather-clad wrist. I cautiously reached out with my other hand to take the cat by her scruff in the hopes of catching her off-guard, certain that this was all a ruse on her part to lure me into a false sense of safety. She deftly twisted to position her head under my hand and tilted it cutely. Changing tactics, I started rubbing her ears.
"She's gonna bite you!" the owner said.
"She's purring," I replied, as the cat started kneading the towel and leaning into the scritches.
As the owner persistently declared their cat's ferocity, and insisted that this had never happened before, the tech and I quickly slipped off our gloves and worked out a system that kept at least one person giving ear scritches and chin rubs at all times. Ten minutes later, fully examined and with a lean bill of health, kitty was bundled off to the groomer without any sedation, the tech was happily putting The Tank away, and the owner was asking in a confused and awed tone just what kind of drugs I had slipped their pet while they weren't looking.
Most of the time, it's not that easy - but sometimes, to make up for the incidents at the other end of the spectrum, things go drastically and unexpectedly well....
As a profession we have come up with many tricks to help even the odds in this sort of situation, involving the use of everything from muzzles and welding gloves to fishing nets and spaceman-like bubble helmets for little smush-face dogs. And for cats, at least, when all else fails, we have The Tank.
The Tank (or, to give it its proper medical name, the Induction Chamber) looks like a modified fish tank with a wide opening lid and in and out valves that connect to an anesthesia machine. A cat can be slid directly from its carrier into the tank, the lid slid on with relatively little risk to human fingers, and oxygen and anesthesia flow in until kitty is happily asleep. This is called tanking down, and it's a genius invention - one that allows us to examine many cats that would otherwise be getting their vaccines via blowdart. However, in order to OK a cat for The Tank, we still need to try to examine them first - just to make sure that they're healthy enough for general anesthesia. Sometimes this is harder than it seems; other times not so much.
Not too long ago, f'rinstance, I had a morning appointment booked for a new client who wanted to leave their cat for a tank-down, checkup, and full-body shave. Not surprising; many cats that need that level of sedation for an exam are tough for the owners to groom at home. But when I brought the owner into the exam room first, they started to get upset.
I tried to explain that we needed to look at their pet first, and at least try to get some cursory physical information. The owner tried to discourage me, warning me that this cat had lacerated and bitten several doctors and that noone had ever been able to get so much as a peep at her while she was awake. I explained our requirements, and they tried to indicate that I was clearly insane and had a death wish.
Cats can honestly be vicious, and I admit I'd rather deal with an irate dog than an evil cat any day - cats are pointy in five places, have a sly cunning about how to trick humans, and possess the disturbing ability to flex their spine in ways no vertebrate should in order to turn inside out in your grip and slay you. So I did take the client's warning seriously. My tech and I both put on heavy leather gloves, and, finding the biggest towel I could, I assumed the position of catcher as my tech stood back, opened the carrier door, and tilted it towards me.
Out sauntered the cutest, fluffiest cat I've ever seen.
"Don't touch her! She'll take your arm off!" cautioned the owner, as the cat sat down on the wadded towel and started nuzzling her chin against my leather-clad wrist. I cautiously reached out with my other hand to take the cat by her scruff in the hopes of catching her off-guard, certain that this was all a ruse on her part to lure me into a false sense of safety. She deftly twisted to position her head under my hand and tilted it cutely. Changing tactics, I started rubbing her ears.
"She's gonna bite you!" the owner said.
"She's purring," I replied, as the cat started kneading the towel and leaning into the scritches.
As the owner persistently declared their cat's ferocity, and insisted that this had never happened before, the tech and I quickly slipped off our gloves and worked out a system that kept at least one person giving ear scritches and chin rubs at all times. Ten minutes later, fully examined and with a lean bill of health, kitty was bundled off to the groomer without any sedation, the tech was happily putting The Tank away, and the owner was asking in a confused and awed tone just what kind of drugs I had slipped their pet while they weren't looking.
Most of the time, it's not that easy - but sometimes, to make up for the incidents at the other end of the spectrum, things go drastically and unexpectedly well....
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Date: 2007-12-06 04:59 pm (UTC)