Snake Bit in Sweet Home

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I always told folks that if they wanted to get a veterinarian to treat Salmon Disease in the dog, don’t go to Kansas. Likewise, if you’re going to get a veterinarian to treat a snake bite, don’t come to Sweet Home. Actually, I have treated one local snake bite, and it was on a horse.

The call came in the early afternoon on a hot August day of 1977.

“Doc, I have a horse with a large swelling on his chest,” Bob said. “I was wondering if you could come up and get a look at him.”

Bob was a young man, maybe a few years older than me. He was well built, and his skin was deeply tanned. I suspect it was a farmer’s tan. He wore a wide brim hat with a snakeskin band on it.

“Sure, Bob, I can get up this afternoon,” I said. “I will need directions, and maybe a hint as to what you think might have happened.”

“I live on a small place upon the top of Fern Ridge,” Bob said. “It’s on the right side of the road, has a large white house and an old barn, you can’t miss it.”

“And, do you have any idea what happened to the horse?” I asked again.

Bob pointed to the band on his hat. “We have a few of these critters around up there. We see them more this time of the year. They tell me there is an old rock quarry over the hill from us a little way.”

A little later, I pulled onto Bob’s place. He had the horse tied to the fence a short distance up the hill from the barn. I surmised that what Bob was seeing was a large abscess if it was a snake bite. I was not confident that a snake could strike a horse in the chest, however.

Looking at the horse, a large grey gelding named Joe, everything was fine except for the sizeable fluctuant swelling on the right side of his chest, over his pectoral muscles.

I shaved the swelling. There in the middle of the swelling were two deep red fang marks.

“It must be a snake bite, alright,” I said. “I don’t see how a snake could strike this high.”

“I have this road that runs up the hill, and there is a steep bank on one side,” Bob said. “It could easily happen if the snake was on that bank.”

“How many snakes do you see around the place?” I asked.

“Not many, this one,” Bob says as he points to his hatband. “And the one that bit the horse. That’s enough for me. Folks say this is about the only area where they are found around Sweet Home.”

“How did you find that one?” I said, pointing to the hatband.

“I walked into the barn one afternoon, the cat was standing in a corner with a mouse in his mouth. This snake has him cornered in a standoff,” Bob says, pointing to his hatband again. “I ran back to the house and got my 22 pistol and decided the argument in favor of the cat.”

“Some story, that might make a person a little worried about doing anything under the barn,” I said.

“For sure,” Bob said. “What do you think about this bite on the horse?”

“I think this happened a few days ago, maybe more,” I said. “Just a big abscess right now. I will open that, drain the pus and flush the wound. Then give antibiotics and tetanus vaccination, and that should do it. You will need to keep the area clean and sprayed for flies. I will come back in a few days and remove the drain. It should be a piece of cake. If he was a racehorse, I would be a little worried about whether that muscle under this abscess was damaged, but it shouldn’t be a problem. And if it was damaged, there isn’t anything we could do about it.”

So that was about that, I scrubbed up the area. I injected a little Lidocaine before making a sizable hole in the abscess. The pus that drained was really rank smelling, not typical at all. After flushing the wound with Hydrogen Peroxide and followed with Betadine, I sutured a Penrose drain in the opening. I gave a hefty dose of long-acting Penicillin and a tetanus booster. 

After spraying the whole area for flies, Joe was fine until the fly spray but settled right down when it was over. I tossed the can of fly spray to Bob. “Twice a day, the more, the better. I will be back on the third day and check things over and get the drain out. I would expect things to heal fine.”

That was close to the extent of my snake bite experiences in Sweet Home until one evening when a guy comes through the door right at closing time. He has his wife and 5 kids and a hound dog with him.

“We just moved into town a few minutes ago,” Jim says. “We moved from Susanville, California. This hound was snake bit a couple of days before we moved, I was hoping you could get a look at him. He is really swollen.”

So the bite was at least 3 days ago, this was probably going to be a replay of the bite wound on Joe.

Jim lifted Burno onto the exam table. Burno was a large Blue Tick hound. He had more black on him than many Blue Ticks but some black ticking on white on his legs and front shoulders. His exam showed an elevated temperature and a submandibular abscess.

“I was afraid the swelling was going the shut off his airway,” Jim said.

“It is pretty loose, shouldn’t be a problem just yet,” I said as I opened Burno’s mouth and used my finger to explore the back of his mouth and upper airways.

“How do you do that without getting bit?” Jim asked. 

“I keep my thumb on the roof of his mouth with quite a bit of pressure,” I said. “That keeps his mouth open, that and then you have to be quick. His airway is fine. This is just a large abscess at this point in time. I will drain it with local anesthesia, flush it, and place a drain for a few days. That and antibiotics should be all he needs.”

Burno’s treatment was identical to Joe’s except for the tetanus vaccine. Dogs are pretty resistant to tetanus and are not routinely vaccinated.

So now, having treated two cases of snake bites, both multiple days old, I could almost call myself a novice. I have talked to veterinarians in other areas about how they handled snake bites, and there is a wide variety of opinions. Antivenom is expensive, but many veterinary patients survive without it. 

Photo credit: Photo by Alexis Chateau from Pexels

Hot Tub Skin Infection

D. E. Larsen, DVM 

 “Doc, this is Dave, I just brought in an old cow from the back pasture,” Dave said into the phone. “I think she has a dead calf in her. I have been busy, and It has been several days since I checked those cows. I guess I didn’t even suspect this old gal was pregnant. But she is sloughing a lot of fluid and smells pretty bad.”

 “I can up there this afternoon if that works for you,” I said. “Do you have the cow in the barn?”

 Dave had the old cow in the crowding ally when I pulled up to the barn. I enjoyed going to Dave’s place. He had a commanding view of Sweet Home, plus his facilities for working his cows were some of the best around.

 This was a big old Angus cow. I could smell her when I stepped out of the truck. 

 “The way she smells, that calf must have been dead for several days,” I said.

 “It’s been several days since I checked that pasture,” Dave said as he loaded her into the squeeze chute.

 This was one big old cow. Reaching the depths of this old girl’s uterus will be impossible for me. With the volume of fluid she is discharging, and the odor, this was going to be a real mess. After scrubbing her well, I pulled on a plastic OB sleeve on each arm.

 I ran my left arm into the vagina. I ran into a shoulder of the calf lodged into the birth canal. Feeling around, the head is turned back to the right side of the calf. Both front legs are retained. I could feel the hair slipping off the calf while I maneuvered my hand around him while exploring his position.

 When I pulled my arm out, the sleeve was covered with black hair. 

 “Dave, this calf has been dead 5 to 7 days to be losing hair like this,” I said. “This is going to be a mess. I think the best thing for the cow is to do a fetotomy. I always try to do a fetotomy on a dead calf first. I think we see better fertility in the cow following a fetotomy versus a C-section.

 “That sounds good to me,” Dave said. “What do you need from me?”

 “Aw, actually, you are going to have to do a lot of the real work,” I said. “You are going to have to do all the sawing. I will have to position the wire saw and hold the fetatome in position while you do the work.”

 With a fetatome, I could make right angle cuts on the fetus. My first cut would be to remove the head and neck. That should allow me room to bring the front legs into the birth canal. Then t will depend on how much air has accumulated in the abdomen of the calf. 

 Passing a wire around the neck of the calf proves nearly impossible. I finally have to strip down to my waist and go in with a bare arm to drop an OB chain over the top of the neck. 

 “Dave, I need something to stand on,” I said. “This big old cow is a long reach for me.”


Dave brings a big block of wood, an oak round, for me to stand on. Standing higher, I reach as deep as I can, my shoulder is in the vulva now. Finally, I grab the chain on the underside of the neck.

 Tying the OB wire saw to the chain, I can pull the wire around the calf’s neck. Then I thread the wire through the two barrels of the fetatome. This fetatome sort of looks like a cross between a double-barrel shotgun and a trombone. 

 With everything in position, I give Dave a brief lesson on how to run the saw handles. He is a strong young man, this won’t take long.

 “The only thing I want you to remember is my hand is holding the end of the fetatome in position,” I said. “If you hear me holler, you stop. That saw will take a finger off in a single pull.”

 Severing the neck takes less than a minute. I quickly set the fetatome aside and run my arm back in to try to grab the head. The head has slipped into the depths of the uterus.

 I can reach the front legs, but I had to stand on the block of wood to accomplish that feat. With the aid of a little J-Lube, I can pull the calf with little difficulty. 

 Now the only thing is to get the head. Reaching as far as I can into the uterus, I can only just touch the head. I try again and again. There must be another way.

 “When I was in school, the thing that was always stressed was time,” I explained to Dave, as much for my benefit as his. “If you haven’t accomplished what you are trying to do in 20 minutes, you better be doing something else.”

 “So, what else is there at this point?” Dave asked. “Are you going to do a C-section for the head?”

 “That would be like doing a C-section for the last puppy after spending half the night to deliver the first 10 pups,” I said. “I have been there, done that. If worse comes to worst, we might have to do that. But first, we are going to use some tincture of time. I will put a package of tetracycline powder in this uterus and load her up on some antibiotics. I will recheck her in the morning. Hopefully, this uterus will shrink up enough that I can get ahold of the head and pull it out.”

 “You think she will be okay?” Dave asked.

 “I think so,” I said. “The cow is a funny beast, though. This calf has been dead in there for a week, and she is looking pretty good. Then I come and dig around in there, and it knocks a lot of bugs off into her bloodstream. We have to load her up on antibiotics. Otherwise, she will be in a problem in the morning. The biggest risk with this plan is if the uterus closes up too much, and we can’t get the head out. Then it will be like that last puppy.”

 With the cow taken care of, I started washing up. I exhausted my water supply in the truck, and my arm still smelled.

 “Maybe you should come in the house and wash again,” Dave suggested.

 I was quick to take him up on that. I scrubbed and scrubbed on my arm before I felt comfortable putting my shirt back on.

 The next morning, the view from Dave’s place was eerie, Sweet Home was covered with a dense layer fog. Standing beside the barn and looking out over where you knew the town was, and it looked like you were looking out the window a jetliner at 20,000 feet: nothing but a layer of clouds.

 The cow was in the chute, and it was an easy trip. I scrubbed up the old cow and ran an arm in, and there was the head. She probably would have delivered it if I had given her a little more time. Removing it was no problem. I put some more antibiotics into the uterus, and the cow was good to go.

 In most cases, that would be the end of the story. But when I stepped into the shower on Saturday morning, I noticed that I had little pustules at every hair shaft on my left arm. Had I lived by myself, I would have taken antibiotics off the shelf at the clinic. But Sandy would not hear of that, so it’s to the doctor of me.

 On Saturday morning, I have a little trouble convincing Dr. T that I should be looked at today rather than Monday. I think he relented more out of professional courtesy than real concern for my arm.

 Dr. T looked at my left arm carefully. The pustules ran almost to my shoulder. They were small pustules, and there was no real discomfort.

 “If you want my opinion,” I said. I always gave the MDs my opinion. “I think I just need some antibiotics and a few good scrubs.”

 “I can’t figure this out,” Dr. T says. “This arm looks just like someone who was in a real dirty hot tub. But the rest of you looks fine.”

 “Vagina, Doctor, this arm was in a real dirty vagina,” I said.

 Dr. T shook his head, “What you guys go through, I will never understand.”

Photo Credit: Photo by Harry Cunningham @harry.digital from Pexels

Banana Chip Therapy

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Rex watched from his bed on the porch as the little red pickup pulled into the driveway. This was Jimmy’s truck now. Rex could remember when his owner, Pete, owned that truck, and they would drive up the lake to fish and play in the water. 

Jimmy stepped out of the truck and pulled a bag out with him. Pete met him at the door.

“Jimmy, it is a surprise to see you here,” Pete said as he offered his rough hand for a shake. “Your mother said you were through school, but she didn’t say anything about you coming by here.”

“I have almost a week before I have to go to work,” Jimmy said. “I thought I would stay with you for a few days as I look for a place to stay.”

“Your mother said you would be working here,” Pete said. “You don’t have to look very far for a place to stay. You are welcome here as long as you want to stay. It is just me and old Rex there, and things get sort of slow around here anymore since your Grandmother passed.”

“That sounds great,” Jimmy said. “Maybe I can find some things to help you around the place. And I would like to take you and Rex up to the lake to fish a little like we did years ago.”

“Me and old Rex aren’t as spry as we were years ago,” Pete said. “He only gets off the porch to do his business. I doubt if you can get him to go fishing.”

“Well, we will just have to see about that,” Jimmy said. “If I am going to stay here a while, I better check your refrigerator and stuff. I don’t want to end up eating dry cereal for breakfast.”

After a trip to Thriftway, Jimmy starting unpacking the groceries into the near-empty refrigerator and pantry.

“It will take us a month to eat all this stuff,” Pete said. “And what did you buy this bag of banana chips for?”

“Grandpa, if you remember, Rex used to love those things,” Jimmy said. “If he is going to just lay on the porch and die, the least I can do is give him a little joy in his last days.”

The next morning, Jimmy was up early, and Pete watched him grab a small handful of the banana chips and head out the door.

“I am going for my morning walk,” Jimmy said over his shoulder as he went out the door.

Jimmy went over and put the banana chips in Rex’s food dish and patted him on the head. “We are going get you back to enjoying life,” he said.

Rex watched Jimmy skip off the porch and walk out to the sidewalk. He licked up the banana chips. He remembered how good they were, but it had been years since he had any.

The next morning, Pete watched Jimmy repeat the event of yesterday. Only when he opened the door, Rex was up and waiting at the door. Rex took the banana chips from Jimmy’s hand and wagged his tail.

He followed Jimmy to the edge of the porch and wagged his tail as Jimmy skipped out to the sidewalk.

“I’ll be darned,” Pete said to himself.

The next morning, Jimmy took a larger handful of banana chips. Rex was at the door, and Jimmy gave him half the chips. This morning when Jimmy started out to the sidewalk, Rex followed along with tail wagging.

Jimmy walked with Rex at a leisurely pace, handing Rex a few chips at every street corner. By the time they got back to the house, Rex had a bounce to his step. Pete watched them come through the gate, and Jimmy sat on the porch with Rex and talked about going fishing.

When Jimmy came through the door, Pete said, “I haven’t that dog so happy in a long time, probably since your Grandmother died.”

“Grandpa, you two have just been sitting around here growing old,” Jimmy said. “Maybe you start eating some of those banana chips. You can see how they have helped Rex.”

“I have noticed, I ate a few this morning when you were walking Rex.”

This went on for the next few days. With Jimmy around, Rex was almost back to his old self. He was coming into the house in the evening, laying at Jimmy’s feet. Jimmy would talk with him and pet his head. Rex even rolled over to have Jimmy scratch his belly.

“I have been thinking,” Pete said. “Maybe we should take that trip up to the lake and do a little fishing. I am feeling a lot better since I have been eating those banana chips. I don’t know what it is that is in them, but they sure make me feel a lot better.”

“So, that is a plan,” Jimmy said. “We will go in the morning. Are you ready to go fishing, Rex?”

Rex stood up and wagged his tail with the word ‘go,’ or maybe it was ‘fishing.’ In either case, he was ready.

The fishing trip was not quite like it was in the old days. But Pete and Rex had a good time. Rex swam a little, and both Pete and Jimmy caught a few fish. They got home in the middle of the afternoon, and Jimmy cooked fresh trout for dinner. By now, Rex was sitting at attention beside Jimmy at the dinner table. Jimmy kept a small handful of banana chips at the corner of the table.

“I am so glad that you came to stay with Rex and me,” Pete said. “And finding those banana chips was the best thing that ever happened for me, and Rex too, for that matter.”

The next week, Pete walks into the barbershop for his weekly haircut. Tuesday morning was senior day at Bill’s Barber Shop, and the usual crowd filled the chairs, waiting for their turn. They were not worried about the wait. For most of them, this was their social time. The new spring in Pete’s step was not missed by the crew as Pete came through the door and found a place for his hat on the rack before taking a chair.

“My, don’t you look like a new man this morning,” Bill, the barber, said.

“My Grandson, Jimmy, is living with me for a few weeks or months,” said Pete. “He started feeding my old dog and me some banana chips from Thriftway. I feel like a new man and old Rex is acting like a puppy.”

“You don’t say, do those really work?” Walter said. “I could sure use a boost. Maybe I will have to stop by and pick some up.”

“My wife has been complaining about my activity level for months,” George said. “I might give those a try also.”

“You guys make me laugh,” Bob said. “Banana chips are not going to do a thing for you.”

“Look at Pete, last week we didn’t think he was going to live through the winter,” Walter said. “This morning, he comes bouncing in here like he just found a new girlfriend.”

“Not a new girlfriend, but we had one hell of a fishing trip up to the lake,” Pete said. “And I even had a dream about little gal down the street.”

Bill smiled to himself as he worked. “Next week is going to be interesting,” he said to himself.

When Jimmy went to Thriftway for more banana chips a couple of days later, the bin was close to empty. He thought that was a little odd, but he filled his bag as full as possible. He didn’t want to run out.

“You guys must have had a run on banana chips?” Jimmy said to the checkout lady. “Last week, that bin was full, and today it is close to empty.”

“I don’t know what is going on,” the lady said. “But I think we have had almost every old man in town buying those things. They must be on to something.”

That night at the dinner table, Jimmy remarked, “I couldn’t believe it. Thriftway was just about sold out of banana chips this afternoon.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Pete said. “I told the crew down at the barbershop about how much better Bubba and I are feeling after eating those things. I would guess everybody plus a few were down there buying a supply.”

“That is interesting,” Jimmy said, not wanting to delve into the subject.

The next week at the barbershop, the talk was fast and furious. Almost everybody was feeling so much better they couldn’t get over it. Everyone that is, except for Bob.

“I have to admit,” Bob said. “I went to Safeway with the wife, and I bought a bag of banana chips. I don’t think they did a thing for me.”

“Well, let me tell you, my wife has been really impressed with how they have helped me,” George said. “I haven’t even had to take one of those little blue pills this last week. Your mistake, Bob, was buying the banana chips at Safeway. The ones at Thriftway are the ones that really work.”

“I feel like a million bucks,” Walter said. “And I told the guys that I play poker with on Wednesday evening up at the Elks. A lot of those guys are trying them also. I think they work.”

A couple of weeks later,  I got around to Bill’s Barber Shop for a quick hair cut. I took a few minutes out of my clinic time to rush over to the barber chair.

“Doc, I have wanted to talk with you for some time now,” Bill said. “Have you heard all the buzz about these banana chips?”

“I had an old guy in the clinic the other day asking me if I thought banana chips had any magic in them,” I said. “I wondered where that question came from.”

“Will, Pete’s Grandson, came to live him,” Bill said. “And Jimmy started feeding Pete’s old dog Bubba these banana chips that you can buy down at Thriftway. Anyway, Pete sees this old dog start acting like a puppy, so Pete starts eating these banana chips. Then he comes in here acting like he is 40 years old and credits it all the banana chips. Now half the old men in town are scarfing down these banana chips. Thriftway can hardly keep them in stock. Half of them have thrown out their blue pills. I think it is just crazy. What do you think, Doc?”

“Sounds to me like old Bubba needed some attention,” I said. “Old dog lays on the porch, and nobody pays any attention to him, then all of a sudden, someone comes along and gives him a treat every day, pats him on the head, and says come along. The old dog figures, maybe he isn’t going to die after all.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Bill said. “But what about all these old men? Something must be going on?”

“Old dogs and old men, not much different,” I said. “Pete had pretty much given up since Alice died. Having the grandson around probably did the trick. All the other old guys, it is just the placebo effect. They think it’s going to work, and it does for a lot of them. The placebo effect is potent. That is why they have to do double-blind studies to make certain drugs work. Even the doctor will think something is working if he wants it to work. All these old guys have just been waiting for that spark to show up again.”

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