Big Cat Encounter 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

“Doc, I know it is late, but I have three dogs who just tangled with a cougar,” Lon said. “They all have large gashes on the top of their heads. The worse one has three slashes that are really deep and long. The other two are not as bad. My wife, she’s a nurse, you know, she thinks we need to sew them up tonight.”

“How do you know it was a cougar, Lon?” I asked.

“I was pretty obvious,” Lon said. “They were making a hell of a racket. They were down by the road in a group of trees, right across the street from the school.”

“My hound clients say that cougar behavior has changed since they are no longer hunted with dogs,” I said. “They have dogs that get torn up by the big cats all the time. Those dogs run across a cougar a lot when they are hunting bobcats. The top of the head is a common target for the cats.”

“Can I bring them in tonight?” Lon asked.

“Yes, I can meet you at the clinic in about thirty minutes,” I said.

Lon’s three dogs, all grey pit bulls, came through the door with tails wagging and tongues handing out of their mouths, still excited from their encounter. They were utterly oblivious to their injuries.

Samson, the dog who took the brunt of the assault, had three long slashes that covered the length of the top of his skull. These slashes were deep and into the muscles. They were evenly spaced and perfectly aligned, about one and a half inches apart.

As I looked at these slashes, I remembered Dr. Adams told me about sewing up a horse in Africa that had been attacked by a lion. He had said those wounds all fell apart, heavily injected by the cat claws. His advice would be to treat these wounds as open wounds. Closure may be futile.

“Lon, these are definitely wounds from a large cat,” I said. “I had a professor who told a story of closing wounds like this on a horse in Africa. Those wounds were from an attack by a lion, and they all fell apart after he sutured them. We might be ahead to treat these as open wounds.”

“I don’t think you want to have that discussion with my wife,” Lon said.

“I know, but you just remember what I said when these things fall apart,” I said. “And Lon, just between you and me, medical doctors and nurses, make the worse veterinarians I know.”

Large dogs were always so easy to work with. They had enough self-confidence that you could usually do things with them that you could never accomplish on a small dog.

I injected these slashes with lidocaine, and Samson never fletched once. After shaving and prepping the wounds, I applied an antibiotic ointment to the exposed tissues and then wiped most of it out.

“The experts will tell you that I should never put anything into a wound like that,” I said to Lon, who was holding Samson and trying not to watch too closely.

“Why is that?” Lon asked.

“They think they have seen wounds in this situation, but in reality, they live in a different world,” I said. “They probably allow for system antibiotics for these wounds, but they do approve of locally applied antibiotics. But I say the truth is in the pudding. If I close contaminated wounds, I apply antibiotics to the exposed tissues.”

I sutured the fascia covering the muscles to close the deep tissues and then closed the skin of each slash with a two-layer closure. We put Samson down on the floor and chuckled at the three neat rows of sutures on the top of his head.

The other two dogs were a snap compared to Samson. One short slash on the top of one head, and on the other, a longer slash came close to his left ear and then just a nick closer to the middle of his skull. There was no muscle involvement in any of these wounds. I closed both of these with local anesthesia.

“I am apprehensive about this cat,” Lon said.

“My guess, Lon, is that three pit bulls got their licks in during the battle,” I said. “That cat probably made his exit as soon as you got the dogs into the house.”

“Those trees are directly across the road from the elementary school playground,” Lon said. “Do you think I should call the sheriff or someone?”

“I will call Fish and Wildlife in the morning,” I said. “I doubt that they are going to be very responsive, but I will give them a call.”

***

In the morning, I called the regional office of the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife. I was shuffled through a couple of different phones until one of the ladies on the line offered to connect me to the biologist.

“Hello, this is Doctor Larsen. I am a veterinarian in Sweet Home. I was calling to let you guys know that I sewed up three dogs last night,” I said. “They were in an altercation with a cougar on their property. That property is located across the street from the elementary school here.”

“How do you know it was a cougar?” the lady biologist asked.

“For one thing, the owner heard the commotion and was sure it was a cougar,” I said. “The second thing is I have been in this business for a few years. I have worked on several hounds with similar injuries from hunters who encounter the cougars by accident while chasing bobcats. All these wounds look the same, and most of them are on the top of the dog’s head, just like the wounds last night.”

“Well, I guess we are all going to have to do a better job at convincing owners to keep their pets in the house,” the esteemed biologist said.

“You’re not worried about the proximity to the school?” I asked.

“That cat is long gone. There is no danger to the school,” she said.

***

When Lon brought the dogs in for suture removal, the wounds had healed well.

“I guess you were right about the antibiotic in the wound,” Lon said after I removed the sutures.

“When they regrow their hair, you won’t be able to see a scar,” I said. “By the way, I did call ODFW. They weren’t very concerned, just like I suspected.”

“Well, I’m concerned,” Lon said. “Those cats belong up in the hills, not down here around houses and schools.

“I agree,” I said. “When I came to Sweet Home, I would hear a cat story once or maybe twice a year. Then they stopped hunting them with dogs, and the Forest Service quit harvesting timber in the National Forest. Now, most of the logging is done on private land. Clear cuts are the major source of browse for the deer and elk. And private land is close to town. The cats follow their food source, and that puts them close to people. And they start doing a lot of hunting in towns after they learn that cats and dogs are easy prey. Now I hear cat stories every couple of weeks. It is just a matter of time before some kid goes around a corner and runs into one of them.”

“Well, in town or not, if I see one in the future, I am going shoot it,” Lon said.

“It is a problem that needs a solution,” I said. “I am not sure what is going to have to happen for that solution to be found.”

Photo by John Borrelli on Unsplash.

From the Archives, one year ago

The Birds and The Bees and Bassett Puppies, Click the link:

https://docsmemoirs.com/2020/10/28/the-birds-and-the-bees/

Drink Upstream from the Herd

 D. E. Larsen, DVM

Jim was waiting for me at his lower corral. I could see a lone steer standing in the corner of the corral. The steer didn’t move when I drove up.

“Good afternoon, Jim,” I said as I got out of the truck. “The note I got said that you needed me to stop by on my way back to the clinic, but they didn’t tell me what was going on.”

“I found this guy this afternoon,” Jim said, motioning to the young steer. “I guess I just had a few questions. I am not sure he is worth fixing.”

I leaned on the top rail of the fence, looking at the steer on the far side of the corral. 

“Aw, now I see that leg,” I said. 

The steer had a fracture of his right front cannon bone. The lower leg was sort of dangling, so it was definitely broken.

“When did this happen, Jim?” I asked.

“I was out with the herd this morning,” Jim said. “I can’t say for sure that I saw this guy, but I certainly never saw any problems. Then this afternoon, he is standing here in the middle of this end of the field like this. He moved okay on three legs to get in here, but he can’t go on like this.”

“We could build a Thomas splint, and if you could keep him in a stall, this leg would probably heal,” I said. “I say probably because that lower leg is really dangling. He could have some major soft tissue injury along with the fracture that would interfere with healing.”

“I would guess that I would spend more than he is worth,” Jim said.

“Yes, you know, sometimes the best medical decision is not the best financial decision,” I said.

“Do you think I could slaughter him?” Jim asked.

“I think if you are going to do that, you need to do it right away,” I said. “By morning, his meat will already be starting to turn bad with all the stress in inflammation.”

“Well, I think that is what I will do,” Jim said. “I will call and see if I get a mobile guy out this afternoon. If I can’t, I will shoot him and gut him out, and they can deal with him in the morning.”

“Do you have a place to hang him?” I asked. 

“Yes, I can hang him in the shed,” Jim said. “It stays pretty cool in there, and it is supposed to be cool tonight.”

“You might want to skin him out also if you are up to that,” I said.

“Yes, I will get that all done,” Jim said. “Thanks for dropping by and checking on him.”

***

It was less than two weeks later when Jim called the office.

“Doc, I don’t know what is going on out here,” Jim said. “I have another little steer with an identical fracture that we had in the one last week.”

“You must have some sort of booby trap out there,” I said. “Have you walked the pasture?”

“I can’t get around a lot, but I have driven all over the place on my tractor,” Jim said. “I don’t see anything. “Maybe, if I could get you to look things over for me, it might help. Your eyes are a little younger than mine.”

“I have some time this evening that I could take a look at things for you,” I said. “But, you know there will have to be some fees for that work.”

“Doc, I can’t afford to make hamburger out of one of these little steers every week,” Jim said. “I’m not asking for you to do this for nothing.”

Jim’s pasture where he had the herd was large. It was probably twenty or thirty acres. I stood on the trailer hitch of the tractor as Jim drove slowly out to the middle of the field.

“You plowed this field a couple of years ago if I remember right,” I said as Jim brought the tractor to a stop in the middle of the field.

“Yes, I have farmed it a couple of times in the last six or seven years,” Jim said. “That is why I am dumbfounded as to where the problem could be. This field is smooth as can be.”

I stood looking at the layout of the pasture. There was the road running along one side and a creek on the other side. Finally, I realized what was bothering me. There was no water in this pasture.

“Jim, where do the cows get their water?” I asked.

“There are a couple of spots where they can get down to the creek for water,” Jim said. “One spot right over there.” Jim pointed to a spot where the brush was gone from the creek bank. “The other spot is down on the far end of the pasture.”

“Let’s look over here at the closest spot,” I said as I dismounted the tractor and started walking toward the creek. Jim followed me on the tractor.

The creek had a steep bank about six feet deep, where the cows had a well-worn trail down to the water hole. I stood and looked at the bank. It was all soft dirt, almost like topsoil down to the level of the creek. This was obviously a fertile field.

I scrambled down the bank and surveyed the waterhole carefully. I was at a loss to find any problem that could be causing the fractures. So I turned to climb back up the bank.

Then I noticed it on the other trail down the back, just a little up the creek from where I had come down. In the middle of the trail was a large tree root that looped out of the bank. A steer coming down the bank could easily step through the root, and coming down the steep bank, he would not be able to stop, and it could easily fracture the captured leg.

“Jim, I think I have found your problem,” I said. Jim was standing up on the bank where I had come down. “Come over to this trail and look at this root.”

“This bank is soft enough that this root is probably a recent exposure,” I said. “This would be perfect for fracturing those legs.”

“Let me hand you my little power saw,” Jim said. “We can fix that right now.”

I took the small power saw and pulled the starting rope. It only took a couple of moments to cut both ends of the root flush with dirt. I tossed the severed root to Jim and scrambled up the bank.

“I would have never found that,” Jim said. “Thanks a lot.”

“We removed that root, but I think you have a bigger problem here, Jim,” I said. “The erosion on this creek bank when the herd goes to water is going to continue. That is probably not too much of a problem now, but we will have a big storm one of these years, and this creek will be a raging torrent. If it starts cutting into this bank, you could lose an acre or two off of this field overnight. You would be far better off to get a water trough or two in this pasture. Maybe one on each end of the field.”

“The creek is a lot easier to maintain,” Jim said.

“Yes, but thinking about potential loses, the risk to your herd is significant if that water hole gets contaminated during low water flows some August,” I said. “If you get one cow with lepto, and she pees in that water hole, all of a sudden you have a bunch of animals infected. And lepto is something you could catch also.”

“You really think I should do that, don’t you,” Jim said. “I don’t think I have a well that will water the herd.”

“You have that little dam on this creek up at the top of your property,” I said. “You could pipe the water down here. There is enough of an elevation drop; you wouldn’t even need a pump. It would still be surface water, but all the cows wouldn’t be standing in it. It is sort of like the old cowboy wisdom saying.”

“I guess I’m not into the cowboy wisdom stuff,” Jim said.

“Drink upstream from the herd,” I said. “Simple wisdom, but that dam is upstream from the herd.”

“I guess you must get a commission from Stan, down at the feed store,” Jim said.

“No, I don’t get a commission, but I get along with Stan real well,” I said. “He helped me out a little when I came to town. I consider him somewhat of a colleague, we both need to make a living, but we do it by helping our clients do the best they can do for themselves.”

“I know you’re just making recommendations,” Jim said. “I am just trying to figure the cost of everything in my head.”

“You might need some sort of a foot valve up at the lake,” I said. “Other than that, just some plastic pipe and a shut off at the tank. You will probably need to fence off the access points to the creek. I think the brush will work well along the rest of the creek. Probably not much more than what your wife was planning to spend on your Christmas present this year.”

“You probably have that right,” Jim said. “It will come out of my half of the couple of hundred that we get in profits from this bunch of cows.”

“Money well spent. It is just the cost of this great lifestyle,” I said. “If you wanted to be rich, you would have bought a grass seed farm.”

***

We eliminated the offending issue today, and Jim did install a water trough at each end of the pasture. The loss of those two young steers probably saved Jim some major heartache in the future.

Photo by Marta Wave from Pexels.