Laughter and Tears “A Veterinarian’s Memoir and Advice”

By Kenneth Cohn

After practicing veterinary medicine for over 38 years, Dr. Cohn has written a memoir describing his adventures as well as many of the lessons he has learned and taught. He portrays those who cherish their pets and others who merely tolerate them. We read about some who tearfully say goodbye to their pets while others are restless to see the end of their responsibility. These memories are sandwiched between the incredible stories of his own family pets. Although every drama offers some advice, Dr. Cohn finishes the book with a lengthy appendix of valuable advice and lessons. This is a book to be cherished by pet owners; share in the laughter and tears and learn more about pets as you enjoy every page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781621832416

Kenneth Cohn

I grew up in a home where pets were not a priority. Maybe the lack of a dog or cat prompted me to look out for the neighborhood pets and rescue every stray or injured creature I came across.Before I finished veterinary school I was married. Within the next few years we had two children and shortly thereafter, we adopted our first cat. I had opened my veterinary clinic the same year I graduated, and while practicing small animal medicine and surgery with emergency visits and house calls as needed, I had too little time to sit back and enjoy my own pets. In fact I had been practicing for almost ten years before I was introduced to Max, the dog of my dreams, and became a truly devoted pet owner for the first time in my life. I have to credit this Doberman with opening my heart to all the pleasures and fulfillments a pet offers. Almost seven years later I adopted my cat, Kipper. Max had his first feline roommate, and I came to appreciate this fascinating and incredible creature. In fact, my story begins when Kipper enters my life.Five dogs, one cat, and sixteen years later I sold my clinic. My wife, Sharon, and I moved to Tucson where I resumed making house calls while working at a veterinary clinic. Kipper was 19 years old and in failing health when he passed away. We now live in Tucson where I continue doing what I love the most...making house calls.

Book preview

Foreword

Before I was nine, I knew exactly what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I loved animals, so I would become a veterinarian. While friends were at home watching television, I was outside looking for strays and injured animals. If I found a stray, I either located the owner or took it home. Whenever I caught an injured bird or rabbit, if I couldn’t help it, my parents and I brought it to the Humane Society. I was bitten or scratched more times than I like to remember. My parents were not thrilled with the profession I chose. They thought a dentist or a physician would make a lot more money, but I knew what I wanted and no one could ever talk me out of it. How many of us can look back at a decision we made when we were that young and say it was the best decision we ever made? I can. Every time I hear about someone who has no idea what they want to do with their life I think how lucky I have been.

During my third year of veterinary school, I completed an internship at the Riegel Animal Hospital in St. Louis. This was a small practice run by the late Dr. Richard Riegel and his younger associate, Dr. Michael D. Klingler. Dr. Klingler was skilled and compassionate, and we became close friends. A year later he left to start his own practice. Before I graduated, Dr. Klingler helped me set up my first office, which served as an outpatient facility. I performed surgeries, took x-rays, hospitalized sick pets, and provided limited boarding at his clinic which was set up as our central hospital. For ten years this arrangement worked well; Dr. Klingler was an inspiring teacher, and my skills grew as my practice expanded. I tried to always be there for my clients; I was available for emergencies around the clock and had office hours six days a week. But, when I look back through all these years, my fondest memories are the surprises and challenges I found during house calls and the adventures I shared with my own pets.

After ten years, Dr. Klingler and I agreed we had each become too busy to continue to share the same hospital facilities; it was time for me to set up an independent clinic. My growing practice justified the change, and my clients would appreciate the increased convenience. I bought an older, abandoned veterinary clinic, and after extensive renovations, my dream became a reality. This was my pride and joy, and here I matured and thrived over the next twenty-three years. In 2008, I sold my St. Louis practice. My wife and I moved to Tucson, Arizona where I worked at a member hospital of a huge national chain of veterinary clinics. When I witnessed corporate veterinary medicine at its worst, I decided to stay only as long as I could continue to be honest and principled. As I came under growing pressure to increase production, I knew it was time to say goodbye, but of course, continue making house calls. Today, I consider myself semi-retired and still enjoy home visits to people and the pets they love.

This is a collection of incredible memories. Interspersed among the anecdotes of many of the pets I took care of over the years are the stories of my own pets, each introduced with a brief novelized autobiography by the pet. My story begins with the adoption of my first cat, Kipper, and continues as you follow me on house calls and eavesdrop on office visits. As I share successes and frustrations, I’ve changed a few names. I don’t remember every exact date, but none of these stories are fiction. My memoir compresses thirty-five years into a time frame that begins with the adoption of Kipper and ends with his death eighteen years later.

I’ve organized the second part of this book as an appendix composed of advice given in comprehensive lessons that will benefit both novice and experienced pet owners. The thirteen topics range from selecting the perfect pet to feeding the best food and the importance of how much to feed; I talk about understanding your cat, house training, and the basics of obedience training for your dog; I discuss neutering, ear infections, and grooming. The final four lessons deal with how to pick a good vet, saving money at the clinic, vaccinations your pet needs and how often he really needs them, and finally, the questions we all face surrounding euthanasia at the end of a cherished pet’s life.

If considering a new puppy or kitten, if contemplating a rescue animal, or even if you already have the most wonderful pet anyone could imagine, you will be amazed by how much you can learn by studying these lessons. This book will entertain, but most importantly, it will teach. Ultimately, these stories and advice will guide you through many years with a happier and healthier pet.

Chapter One

Kipper

I’m not proud of it, but I was born in a rundown back alley. I had three brothers, two sisters, and a mother who loved us dearly. Times were tough and there wasn’t always enough food, but we enjoyed running around and playing. Every evening Mom bathed each of us before we piled up and slept in a comfortable and well-hidden little space. I must have been only a few months old when two of my brothers and I snuck into this strange place to get some really good smelling food. All of a sudden there was this terrible noise and I knew we were in trouble; we were caught in a really scary contraption. That same day we were taken to this huge animal jail. It was a depressing place and we knew we would never see the rest of our family again.

We had only been there a few days when we were drugged; we woke up feeling a little dopey and noticed some blood near our privates. They had done something to us, but we could never figure out what. Before we were even there a week, I was yanked out of my cage; I never even got to say goodbye to my brothers, and I was shoved into a box and then back into another car. I was on my way to my first home with humans.

It wasn’t a bad experience. There was always food sitting out for me. That was great, but there were too many people. And everyone was pawing at me and trying to rub on me. It was really kind of obnoxious. Because the food was always around, I could stay hidden until I wanted to grab something to eat. Everything was really fine for the six or seven months I lived with this family. Periodically I’d go outside with someone and have a good time, and then they’d carry me back in. Then one day I decided to sneak out with one of the less obnoxious kids. Nobody even noticed I was outside, so I took a longer look around.

I was wandering down the street and minding my own business when someone grabbed me from behind and threw me into a car. I guess I shouldn’t be angry about it. She was really nice and I know she meant well, but I was finally used to this family and I was happy. She took me to a strange place with all these sick animals and tried to give me to this animal doctor. He was not sure if he wanted me (his loss!) and he handed me off to an old lady and her little dog that was afraid of his own shadow, but I think I could have gotten used to playing with him. He was an easy target! I knew he could never catch me and certainly could never hurt me. I’m stronger and faster than any dog!

Then the animal doctor must have realized what he was missing! He came back and took me home with him. There was this big, dumb dog there, but that was okay. I never met a dog that I was afraid of. I have to tell you what I didn’t like. In my other home the food was always available. I never had to be nice to anyone. I’d grab something to eat whenever I wanted, and I’d be nice if and when I felt like it, but honestly I didn’t feel like it much. Why be nice if you don’t have to? Now the food didn’t stay out. I hated waiting to be fed, and I knew I was losing control of everything. I found myself rubbing up against the doctor when I was hungry and I got scared that I was growing too attached. I had never enjoyed a human before, and now I was even kneading on the dog! I was glad there were no other cats around to see how I was changing. They were using food to dominate me and I could not resist!

***

Kipper and Max

Ms. Clanton, my friend Sue, and I stood together talking in a small home in south St. Louis. Like most of the others in this neighborhood, the shotgun bungalow was just one room wide. You could walk from the living room, through a bedroom, through a dining room, and then enter the small 1950’s kitchen. The year was 1992, and we were watching a sleek, short-haired, orange and white cat who in turn watched a pudgy, tan Chihuahua named Smudge, as he walked across the dining room floor. When we stopped talking, the only sound was the clattering of Smudge’s toenails on the old floorboards. If we watched carefully, we’d notice the cat’s ears dip down and forward as his posture changed. Then, suddenly, with no warning, he would race across the room, grab his victim by the neck, and throw him down on the floor. Grumbling, meowing, growling, and barking followed; as our heart-rates accelerated, we realized this was just a game, and the cat and the dog were enjoying every minute of it.

Poor Ms. Clanton cried out, You see why I can’t keep that cat! He’s going to kill Smudge one day.

Before she could finish her sentence, Smudge was up and running-but not hiding, and in fact, didn’t even leave the dining room. He stopped in a few seconds and turned to look at Kipper; the cat stood and watched his helpless prey. And, again, his ears dipped, his tail twitched, and he went flying after Smudge.

Sue and I looked at each other and burst into uncontrolled laughter. I was the veterinarian and Sue was just a good, old fashioned animal lover, and we knew this was a match made in heaven. But poor Miss Clanton didn’t understand. Smudge was her baby, her pride and joy, and this scene was being repeated time after time, and day after day. It scared her to death. Yes, for the sake of Miss Clanton, the cat must go.

You’re right, Miss Clanton, I said. We all agreed to a one-week trial to see how Smudge would take to this stray cat, and I can see it is very difficult for you. Honestly, I don’t think he would ever hurt your dog, but we’ll take him back to the office and try to find another home for him.

***

It was one year after my divorce; I was sharing the small apartment above my clinic with my Doberman, Max, and I hadn’t considered another pet, although Sue had wanted me to adopt this cat from the very beginning. She called him Kipper because she had found him around the Jewish holiday of Yom Kipper. The clinic was only a few miles from Miss Clanton’s home, and ten minutes after we left her house, I was carrying Kipper past the kennel he had spent the night in a week earlier. We walked through my office, opened the door and headed up to my apartment and Max. Of course, before I reached the top of the steps, I was wondering how Kipper and Max would get along. Max was always well-behaved with both dogs and cats, but he hadn’t ever had to share his home or me with a cat. Kipper had been fine with Miss Clanton’s dog, but Smudge and Kipper were almost the same size. Max weighed eighty pounds. He was a giant next to a cat.

I carried my new pet into the apartment; Max immediately sat and his eyes locked on this orange-and-white ball of fur. There wasn’t a sound as I set Kipper on the floor only a few feet in front of Max and prepared to reprimand Max if he moved. The brave cat walked right up to his new roommate, carefully sniffed him for a few seconds, and casually headed into the living room. Max trembled slightly as he watched this small, brave creature give him a once over and then walk away. With Kipper in the other room, Max relaxed and gave me my customary, exuberant greeting. As he was calming down, the cat walked back into the room. When they came nose to nose, I knew that this could be the first step toward a unique and highly entertaining relationship. That same evening Kipper became my pride and joy for the next eighteen years. But, before I describe my life with Kipper and Max, I want to tell you more about Max and introduce you to the Affton Veterinary Clinic.

***

He was a handsome, well-muscled, black-and-tan Doberman. He loved all animals, but of course, no creature, human or animal, was allowed between the two of us. Max was almost ten years old, and he would spend this last year of his life with Kipper. Kipper would grow to love Max, and Max would grow to tolerate our new companion.

This Doberman came to me nine years after I graduated from veterinary school at the University of Missouri in Columbia. He was my first dog since I had left home, and he was the perfect pet. Max’s story began on a very slow day in my first clinic. Linda, my receptionist, asked if we could bathe a Doberman for an older gentleman. An hour after he assured us the dog was easy to handle, I was walking Max to the kennel. He was a gentle giant. I told him to sit as I opened the kennel door and he immediately responded. When I commanded him to get into the large cage, he literally flew in and sat as if to demonstrate what I should expect after his years of obedience training. This was my first clinic, and it was small and meager. I left the cramped kennel and walked across an open area to the basement door. Once down the steps, I found an appropriate pet shampoo and conditioner. An old claw-footed tub was conveniently placed above the drain for the few times we might need to bathe a patient. The light wasn’t great, and it would have been easier if the tub had been elevated, but I could still get the job done.

A few minutes later, Max was coming down the stairs by my side. We stopped in front of the tub; I tapped it, and prompted him to hop in. To my surprise, he sprang over the side and landed in the middle of the tub. He immediately sat and looked me in the eye as he awaited the next command. This was how he behaved all afternoon. I never had to ask twice. His first response was always impeccable.

While he sat under a cage drier in the kennel, I told Linda that this was the dog I would love to take home with me. As a young and diplomatic veterinarian, I admit I had said this to a client now and then−especially when I knew they wouldn’t take me up on it−but this time I really meant it. Twenty minutes later Mr. Tynes was in the waiting room.

I walked toward him to introduce myself and noticed that he had been crying. Hello, Mr. Tynes. I’m Dr. Cohn. Max is an amazing dog. He was certainly no trouble.

He was my son’s most prized possession. My son died of cancer just a few months ago and I’m actually trying to find him a new home. Do you know anyone who might be interested?

I replied that I would be thrilled to adopt Max. Almost immediately, he relaxed, and his eyes lit up. He handed me the leash and some papers and a few minutes later was smiling as he left the clinic.

I felt like I had won the lottery. Max was not only beautiful, but impeccably trained. Linda was obviously thrilled for me, and now I began to think how I might introduce this huge beast to my wife, who had never wanted a dog, and my two children, Lisa and David, who were only five and eight years old. First, I headed over to my best friend’s veterinary office to show off my amazing new pet and get some advice on how to approach this subject with my wife and kids. On a Sunday afternoon a few weeks earlier, I had brought my kids to the office while I treated a few hospitalized pets and saw an emergency. I was finishing in the exam room when David and Lisa started screaming and came running down the hall. A split second later I heard a high pitched yapping as a tiny, mixed breed puppy passed the door in hot pursuit. My client and I had looked at each other and laughed, but yes, Max was going to be a hard sell.

As I paraded my pride and joy around Dr. Klingler’s office and bragged to him and his staff, my beeper went off (this was still the age of pocket pagers). I needed to call my office immediately. It turned out that when Mr. Tynes returned home without Max, his wife was quite upset and told him that this was not his dog to give away. Apparently his son’s will had not yet been read, and Mrs. Tynes believed her former daughter-in-law had probably been given the dog. Max’s destiny would be in her hands. As disappointed as I was, it didn’t help when I opened my car door and Max continued to sit quietly while waiting for a command. Only after I gave him a hand signal did he hop up into the car. On the trip back to the office, my only thought was that if this dog was given to anyone else, they would never give him up.

Mr. Tynes was waiting for me, and after apologizing, he explained he didn’t think his son’s ex-wife would want Max, because she already had two large dogs. The will would be read in a week, and within two weeks someone would let me know the final agreement.

Thirty minutes later I walked into my house, and after talking to my wife and kids, I asked my wife to sit down with me in the living room before dinner.

Someone walked into my life today and we had an immediate and profound attraction to each other. I don’t know what to do, because we need to be together.

My wife stared at me as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. Now, while she was thinking of a response to this mysterious threat, I took advantage of her fear and trepidation and confessed, It’s a Doberman and I know I can’t live without him.

I don’t know if it was my contrived introduction, or my description of this gentle and well-trained pet, but there was no argument. I went about my life and waited for a phone call that I never really expected.

When I had given up all hope of seeing Max again, the phone call came. He had been left to the daughter-in-law, and she was calling me. As Mr. Tynes had said, she already had two large dogs and really couldn’t afford another pet. But,—and isn’t there always a but—she would like to get some money for him. Trying to hide my excitement, I asked what she thought would be a fair price for a three-year-old Doberman. It was obvious that her main concern was that he find a good home. We agreed on $100, and the next afternoon I drove through south St. Louis to pick up my new pet.

***

As we sat in her living room discussing Max, I asked all the questions I could think of. I’ve always remembered one question in particular: Does he climb onto the furniture?

Not unless you let him, she replied.

Like many first-time dog owners, I thought I would train him to stay off the furniture, stay off the bed, and stay out of the kitchen while we were eating. And like many first-time dog owners, I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stay off the furniture, stay off the bed, or stay out of the kitchen while we were eating. Before long, I found I enjoyed having him on the furniture next to me, and I didn’t mind him in the bed when I was there. He never begged while we ate, so why couldn’t he be in the kitchen when we were eating? (Before you begin to interpret this scenario as my approach to welcoming a new dog into your home, please read Lesson 9 on the essentials of dog training. Remember, this was an exceptionally well-trained three-year-old pet. This same approach with a puppy or untrained dog could have dreadful results!)

This was the start of my life with Max. He went to work with me every day, which often meant six to seven days a week. I occasionally made house calls, and now I had company and sometimes−necessary−security. Once on a house call, the client and I decided to leave Max in the bathroom while we examined her pet. He was always quiet and well behaved, but could be scary for anyone who was afraid of Dobermans or other large dogs. Minutes later, an elderly woman came down the stairs. When she put her hand on the bathroom doorknob, her teenage grandson stopped her.

You don’t want to go in there, Grandma!

But she was in a hurry. What do you mean? I have to go in there right now!

He was now begging. Grandma, trust me. Please wait just a few minutes.

She wasn’t listening to anyone. Get out of my way, young man! I’m an old lady and I can’t wait!

But, Grandma, the vet’s Doberman Pincher is in the bathroom.

Thank you; I can wait.

***

It was a thirty-five minute drive into work, and Max always sat tall in the passenger seat. His nose rested only a few inches from the windshield, and often, when I slowed or stopped, it would leave its perfect imprint on the glass. On cold winter mornings I sometimes dressed him in a knitted stocking cap. Sitting perfectly still in the front seat, he was quite the picture.

Because Dobermans are short coated, they are more sensitive to the cold than many other breeds. It was not unusual for a client to ask if their Doberman’s shaking meant anything. If it was winter, the reason was usually quite simple: he is cold. When they are cold, they tremble like a child. They also love climbing under the covers or trying to nest. If there are no loose blankets, they may end up damaging a bedspread or couch as they try to burrow to stay warm. My parents would occasionally dog-sit for us, and unfortunately, they learned about this behavior the hard way. After Max shredded a bedspread, and, on another visit, tried to burrow into a seat cushion on a couch, they weren’t as eager to dog-sit. Once, after a long winter hike with a friend, we stopped for dinner and left Max in the back of the car. Unfortunately, it was a chilly evening, and he tried to dig his way into the old vinyl seat. The following week I paid for a visit to the upholsterers.

***

Not too many years after graduating veterinary school, I was lucky enough to receive a phone call asking me to make a house call to meet Holly. She lived in one of the more exclusive areas of St. Louis County, only about twenty-five minutes from my office. As I waited at her front door, I studied the ivy climbing up the formidable stone walls. Seconds later I walked into the mansion and a whole new world. Holly wasn’t unattractive, but it was obvious she wasn’t trying to impress anyone with her wardrobe or hairstyle. Behind her, the massive home spread out. Formal and elegant, but well-used furniture accented the spaces I could see, but we didn’t stay there for long.

I raise Pekingese dogs, and they stay in a very nice kennel behind my home.

We walked through a garden and across a large stone patio to a free-standing brick building that appeared almost as large as my home. Holly opened the door and we entered a formal foyer. The rear wall was covered with glass shelves, and each was crowded with trophies, ribbons, and framed photographs. The door to our right opened into large bathing room. A built-in, elevated tub was placed against one wall, and two grooming tables stood separately in the center of the room. Along another wall were several cages with large blow dryers set up to