The Siberian Mouse Hound

D. E. Larsen, DVM

George and Smudge waddled through the door together. Smudge was some sort of a Dachshund mix. Smudge had a long body, broad shoulders, and legs that were just long enough to keep an oversized belly from dragging on the ground.

“What are you two in to see the doctor for today,” Joleen asked.

George was an older man, probably in his seventies. His description would match Smudge’s to the tee if he walked on all fours. 

“I have been treating Smudge’s rectum with Preparation H for nearly a month now, and his hemorrhoids just don’t seem to change much,” George said. “I figured I better get the Doc to get a look at him.”

“You picked a good time to walk in,” Joleen said. “Doc is just finishing up in surgery, and it is half an hour before he has an appointment scheduled. I’ll grab your chart, and we can get you ready to see Doc.”

Hoisting Smudge onto the exam table was a surprising chore. He was so low to the ground and overweight, it was like bending over to pick a bag of concrete off the floor.

Taking a deep breath from that exertion, I started a routine exam on Smudge. 

Starting at the nose and working toward the tail, I did a full exam on every patient before looking at the specific problem.

“You are on the wrong end,” George said. “We are here for you to look at his rectum.” 

“Smudge is no picture of health,” I said. “He is well past middle age and a little overweight. We just want to make sure everything is okay before we start concentrating on one little area.”

“So, what do you find?” George asked.

“I find a couple things, George,” I said. “They are easily fixable. The hemorrhoids you have been treating with Preparation H are actually Perianal Gland tumors. They are seldom malignant, but we should remove them while they are small. They do cause some local issues when they get big. He also has a tumor in his left testicle. If you look, the left testicle is large beside the right testicle that is quite small. There is likely a Sertoli cell tumor in that left testicle. These tumors are also not generally malignant, but they produce estrogens. The estrogens probably account for some of Smudge’s belly and his small right testicle.”

“What do we need to do, Doc,” George said.

“The best thing to do is to get the tumors off the rectum and to get rid of the testicles,” I said.

“Sounds simple enough,” George said. “When can we do it?”

“We need to run some blood work to make sure his liver and kidneys are up to the surgery,” I said. “If that is okay, we can schedule his surgery next week.”

George was right on time for Smudge’s surgery appointment. George was nervous and talkative. 

“I would rather have the surgery myself than to put Smudge through it,” George said to Sandy.

“You do know what they are going to do today?” Sandy says. “You know that he’s being neutered along with the rectal work, don’t you? I don’t think you would like that very much.”

“This dog means more to me than just about anything,” George says.

“We know that,” Joleen says as she leads George and Smudge into the exam room for Smudge’s pre-surgical exam. “He will do just fine. He will bounce out of here this afternoon like nothing happened.”

The surgery went well. We did the neuter first, keeping in mind to do the cleanest surgery first. The tumor in the left testicle was the size of a marble, and the right testicle was atrophied. That would be consistent with a Sertoli cell tumor. Still, just to be sure, we will send the tissues in for a pathologist to confirm the diagnosis.

In Veterinary medicine at that time, there were few options for cancer patients besides surgery. Chemotherapy and radiation were available at a couple of university clinics, namely Colorado State and the University of California. Most clients were not inclined to take such a referral.

The small perianal gland tumors were easily removed with sharp dissection, and the wound was closed with a few silk sutures. When they were this small, dogs did not seem to be bothered by the surgery.

George was anxious when he came to pick up Smudge in the afternoon. I had explained that Smudge would feel much better with the testicular tumor removed, and it should help with his weight somewhat.

“George, I want you to start feeding Smudge a reducing diet,” I said as I handed him the leash. “That means no table scraps. We want to see some space between the floor and the belly. With that tumor gone, he should feel like being more active also.”

George stopped and talked with Joleen and Sandy on the way out the door.

“Now he should be good as new in a few months,” George said. “He should be back into his old hunting shape.”

“Hunting shape, he doesn’t look like much of a hunting dog to me,” Joleen said.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” George said. “He is a purebred hunting dog.”

Joleen leaned over and looked at Smudge on the floor.

“He doesn’t look like any purebred that I know,” Joleen said. “I better get the dog book out and see if I can find him in there.”

“Smudge is a Siberian Mouse Hound,” George said flatly, not cracking a smile. “Full-blooded, he is.”

“A Siberian Mouse Hound, I have never heard of that breed before,” Joleen said. “Now I really will have to get the dog book out to look it up.”

George smiled and chuckled a little as he headed out the door, giving Smudge a pull on his leash.

“What was that all about?” I asked Joleen.

“He says Smudge is a purebred Siberian Mouse Hound,” Joleen answered.

“I think you have been had,” I said with a smile.

Photo Credit: https://pixabay.com/?ref=pexels

Benefits of Experience

D. E. Larsen, DVM

The phone jarred me awake. It was going to be another late night, and I thought calving season was over. I glanced at the clock as I picked up the receiver, 1:30.

“Doc, this is Jack. I have a llama who gave birth tonight,” Jack said in an excited voice. “They almost always birth during the morning, but this one came tonight, and she has a problem.”

“What’s going on with her, Jack?” I asked.

“I think she has a prolapsed uterus,” Jack said. “And she is not doing well. She hasn’t even looked at the baby.”

“Llamas rarely have birthing problems,” I said. “But when they have problems, it is when they give birth at night.”

“Can you come out and get a look at her, Doc?” Jack asked.

“It won’t take me too long,” I said. “You know I am in bed.”

“I know, Doc,” Jack said. “I’m sorry, but it is like when we used to have to Hoot Owl in the woods. You just got to get up and go.”

“Don’t do anything with her until I get there,” I said. “If she is not feeling well, she might be in shock. We don’t want to add any stress. Where do you have her, Jack?”

“She is in the little barn up here by the house,” Jack said. “I will have all the lights on for you.”

I have seen very few birthing issues with llamas. One with a prolapsed vagina that I ended up delivering the baby, and that was about it. If this is a prolapsed uterus, it will be a first for me. Unlike a cow, this llama is probably worth about $30,000.

Jack was waiting at the barn door when I arrived. He was having trouble standing still.

“I am glad you could come so quick, Doc,” Jack said as I stepped out of the truck. “She doesn’t look good to me at all.”

I gathered my stuff for the first trip into the barn. A stephoscope, bucket of warm water, BeI gathered my stuff for the first trip into the barn: a stethoscope, bucket of warm water, Betadine scrub, and a dose of Oxytocin. Jack had the cria under a heat lamp. Mom was paying no attention to the baby. That in its self was an unfavorable sign.

She did have a prolapsed uterus. The membranes had already passed. This did not look bad, just one horn of the uterus was prolapsed. But Momma did not look good. Her oral membranes were ghost white and she was resting on her sternum and not responsive to my attention.

“Jack, there was a day that I would blame her condition on blood loss but I think she is in shock,” I said. “Let me run back to the truck and I will get a couple of bags of fluid and some medication and we will see if that helps her before we do anything with this prolapse.”

“Is she going to be able to breed after this?” Jack asked.

“We have to worry about her surviving the night before we worry about her breeding again,” I said. “Actually, Jack, I doubt is there is much data on fertility in the llama following a prolapse. Most of the time they breed back in the first month or so following delivery. I would think that is not going to happen, but I have no data or experience on the top of my head to support any opinion.”

I hung a bag of fluids from a nail on a nearby support post for the barn and placed a 14 gauge needle in her jugular vein. I ran the fluids as fast as they would flow and added 20 mg of Dexamethasone Sodium Phosphate to the first liter.

Halfway through the second liter, Mom was looking for her cria and acting like she would live. I slowed the flow and gave 10 mg of Oxytocin IV. Then I turned my attention to the prolapse.

This was a fraction of the size of a bovine prolapse and the oxytocin was already contracting the uterus. I scrubbed it vigorously with Betadine Scrub. Then I lubed it with J-Lube, a powdered lube that, when wet, became as slick as anything I knew.

A couple of pushes and the uterus popped back into its normal position. I ran my hand through the cervix and made sure the uterine horns were completely returned to normal. At the same time I put a couple of grams of Oxytetracycline powder in the uterus. Then I sutured the vulva closed with several sutures.

I have never experienced a prolapse that came out a second time. Especially if Oxytocin was given to contract the uterus. But, be it training, or just making myself and the owner happy, I always sutured the vulva for a 1 – 3 days.

I cleaned up Mom and removed the IV. A gave good dose of long acting antibiotics and she jumped right up, looking for her baby.

“My guess is we are home free, Jack,” I said. “I will run by and recheck her in a couple of days and get those suture out. You just need to check her over real well in the morning. Make sure is eating and taking care of the baby. You call if you have any questions about how she is doing.”

The trip home at 3:00 in the morning gave me time to ponder. Would I have been so quick to give fluids to this gal if had not been able to peek inside of the belly of Ag’s cow a couple of summers before? I am not sure of the answer to that question. I guess once you know the correct answer, it is hard to think of another solution.

Photo Credit: https://www.pexels.com/@belen-rubio-1986517

The Shock of it All

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Ag had called, “We have a cow with a prolapsed uterus out in the calving pasture. Alice and I are going to bring her into the barnyard. Can you come out and get a look at her?”

     I glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight. I thought to myself, “Ranchers must never sleep during calving season.”

     I could see the cow in my headlights as I pulled into the barnyard. Standing with Ag and Alice on each side of her, she was still a hundred yards out in the field.

      I opened the gate and pulled out into the field. I stopped and closed the gate before driving out to where the cow was standing. I left the lights on when I got out of the truck.

This cow, a large Charolais, was either very tame or very sick. She did not flinch when I pulled up in front of her in the truck.

“I think she has decided this is as far as she is going to go,” Ag said as I stepped out of the truck.

I could see her uterus hanging out of her, almost reaching the ground. This was always a bad sign. These cows, who have lost all inner attachments of the uterus, had a poor prognosis in my experience. I assumed that to be from the rupture of the ovarian vessels and blood loss. Even when I replaced these uteruses, over half of these cows would die.

“That uterus looks like bad news to me,” I said. “Let me get a look at her before we start on putting things back together.”

“She walked to this point pretty well,” Alice said. “But then she just stopped. We have been standing here for 15 minutes before you got here.”

     I lifted her muzzle so I could look at her oral membranes in the lights. She was ghost white. 

“I think this cow is going to drop dead any minute now,” I said. “That uterus has lost all its ligament attachments and is hanging out full length. She is probably bleeding inside.”

“Let’s try to hamburger her,” Ag said, looking at Alice.

“I’m willing to help,” Alice said. “If we get her gutted tonight, we can get Chuck out here in the morning with his mobile slaughter truck.”

Both these ladies were in the 60s, Alice probably older. It is past midnight, and they are talking about butchering a 1500 pound cow like it is just a small chore.

“What do you think, Doc?” Ag asked.

“I think it might be marginal, but the USDA says that a cow is fit for slaughter if she has passed her fetal membranes,” I said. “This is a lot of hamburger, if the meat is no good, you can probably determine that before you process it. That way, you are only out the slaughter cost. And in this case, maybe just an extra hour of work.”

“I will go get the tractor with the frontend loader,” Ag said as she started toward the barn. “I guess you can go, Doc.”

“Actually, I think I will stay and give you gals a hand,” I said. “I am a little interested in what she looks like inside.”

About the time Ag returned with the tractor, the cow collapsed. Alice cut her throat, shackled her hocks, and lifted her off the ground with the tractor’s loader. Then the work started. My headlights provided ample light, and they both worked with practiced repetition. 

When the abdomen was opened, I expected to find a significant amount of blood. There was none. I looked at the ovarian vessels. The ovarian ligaments were ruptured, but the vessels were intact. My thinking that these stretched out uterine prolapses resulted in substantial blood loss was just wrong. This cow died from shock.

This would change my approach to treating these cases. It is not always possible to give these cows a large volume of fluids out in a distant pasture in the middle of the night. Like in this case, many are probably too far gone by the time I get to them. But for some, a good dose of Dexamethasone and a bottle of Glucose or Calcium might be enough to do the trick.

I called in the morning, just to check with Ag on the status of the carcass. My guess was that saving 500 pounds of hamburger would not be as appealing after a night’s sleep and clearer thinking.

“What did Chuck think of the cow?” I asked.

“We didn’t even call him,” Ag said. “Things just didn’t smell right this morning. It was a good thought last night, but not so much now.”

“That is probably the best,” I said. “It would be one thing if you were starving to death, but when we have access to the world’s best meat supply, there is little benefit in trying to salvage marginal meat.”

“That is just about what Alice said,” Ag said. “She wasn’t hungry enough to want it.”

“There was some good to come out of last night,” I said. “I have always felt some of these cows died from blood loss. But there wasn’t a drop of blood in that belly last night. She died from shock. That will change the way I treat these cows with a massive prolapse. I will treat them for shock first, then worry about the prolapse. That is how we learn things, that is why they call it practice.”

“Now, I just have to get the rendering truck out here before the dogs get into that gut pile,” Ag said.

“That would be good. Otherwise, I will see a sick dog or two for you,” I said.

Photo Credit: johnhmarble@icloud.com