Dear Sick Kitty,

Here you are in my office, after spending many weeks hiding your symptoms from your owner.  Suddenly you feel so unwell that you have no choice but to surrender your guard and show your owner that you might be having some issues (you won't stop throwing up on their favourite duvet, the litter box is no longer your friend, or you simply just won't eat that food you used to love so much).  I know that is hard for you.  It has only be a few thousand years since you were domesticated from your wild ancestors.  It is still in your nature to hide sickness due to the fact that once upon a time illness meant you fell prey to a foe. However let me reassure you, in this day and age, it is okay to show your caring owner that you are sick.  And frankly, the sooner the better.  Because usually by the time you tell anyone something is wrong, something is REALLY REALLY wrong. 

So, my problem is I can only tell so much by examining your body.  Your temperature is normal, your belly is soft, and beyond telling your caring family member that you are a bit dehydrated and have lost one pound, I have no idea what is wrong with you.  I can't read your mind, and I don't have a crystal ball.  I beg you to help communicate with your caring owner that I need to run some tests to figure out what is wrong with you.  I know that is going to cost some money, but it is necessary and in your best interest so I can most effectively pick the right medicine to help you.  Since you can't talk and your body is not telling my anything from an exam, I need to run tests on your blood, urine, and maybe even an x-ray.  Who knows, it might even take a "CAT" scan... :-)

Once I can figure out what is wrong with you, I pray to the powers that be it will not require giving you a pill every day.  Can you not understand it will cure your disorder?  Why must you fight, and froth, and then spit that gall darn pill out behind the couch.  Perhaps if we crushed it up and hide it in your food? No?  Of course not, that would be too easy.  In addition to that, you won't eat that special food that was also prescribed to help you feel better.  Your loving owner paid good money for this, and there are starving kittens in the street.  But no, you are going to hold out for the 10 cent can of cat food from the grocery store.  I hope that is not what made you sick in the first place!

Sincerely, Dr. Erin

Let me introduce myself: I am Dr. Erin, and I own a complete goof ball dog named Jack.  Don't get me wrong, that is a term of endearment.  Every once in a while we are given a pet who makes us crazy, but in their unique way weave themselves deeply into our hearts.  So for me, this is Jack.  

My first dog, Toby, was a calm and gentle soul.  He was probably the easiest dog anyone could ask for.  Since it was my first attempt at dog ownership, it was a dream.  He rarely barked, he never chewed anything, he was extraordinarily clean, he almost never needed a leash, and for 13 years he never left my side.

Then about a year after I had to say goodbye to Toby, Jack came into my life.  A dear client of mine had heard about this young shelter dog who was so sweet, calm, gentle, and QUIET.  He was at the Ottawa SPCA and wondered if I would consider adopting him.  I took one look at his photo and fell in love, so I said "sure, we'll give it a try". 

Jack's first night here was a dream.  He definitely was the sweet, gentle dog they said he was. He slept on the main floor, did not make a peep.  Lulling us into a false sense of security...

 Over the following months, Jack's personality emerged once he felt comfortable and knew he had found his forever home.  Suddenly there was earth shattering barking in the middle of the night at some unknown phantom outside.  There were at least 3 episodes of coming home to find the entire living room covered in shredded paper.  One instance it was an entire roll of toilet paper blown into white confetti bits all over the furniture.  He discovered that couches and beds make much better sleeping surfaces than the floor, so we would come home to find secret doggy imprints on the furniture.  Our backyard became a mine field of holes dug for the purpose of burying tennis balls.  Every moving leaf outside was the enemy and had to be barked at and chased, pulling my arm out of my socket.  This dog had tireless energy, we would go to the off leash park for hours and then back at home he would still bring his toy to throw for another 5 hours.  He escaped from the back yard at least 6 times, every time being found a few streets away, usually covered in some disgusting substance of unknown origin that he had rolled in.  Every new person that came through the door was jumped upon by a 50lb flurry of black fur whose entire reason for living is to lick your face. 

But here we are after one year, 3 obedience classes later, and lots of training at home.  Jack has finally mellowed leaving his destructive behaviors behind.  He lounges late in the mornings like a teenager, but still loves to go for 2 hour walks.  He is still a digger but sticks to one hidden corner in the back yard that he thinks we don't know about.  He doesn't jump up as much, and he has this hysterical way of playing with his toys by chewing on them like a cob of corn.  Just this morning he spent an hour with the noisemaker he extracted from a stuffed toy.  It makes this high pitched repeated barking sound that he kept triggering by throwing the bloody thing against the wall.  I would have been annoyed if I didn't find the behavior so incredibly intelligent and comical. 

So Jack has taught me these lessons: 1) Live life in the moment, and forget your problems for a while because for now this ball is the greatest thing I see. 2) Smile at everyone you meet and always try to make new friends. 3) Patience is a virtue.  Good things come from learning, teaching, and persistence.  4) Laughter makes everything better. 

Dr. Erin