Happy Birthday Amy

D. E. Larsen, DVM 

I remember the day well.  The day in that year was a Friday, and I was in my Freshman year in veterinary medical school at Colorado State University. I was excited about your pending entrance into the world.  I was also concerned about missing the Friday afternoon exam in anatomy. Yours was the first birth to occur in the class, and everyone was excited for us. 

We made a trip to the doctor’s office early in the morning (Dr. Voss), and he decided it was time. They admitted your mother to the hospital (Poudre Valley Hospital) and started sublingual oxytocin at about 10:00 AM.

About 1:00 PM, the nurse, decided it was time to call Dr. Voss. They moved Sandy to the delivery room and started her final prep. Changing into to scrubs with Dr. Voss, he was in a casual mood and full of questions about vet school. He shared the same name as a young horse doctor on staff. There were a few stories that Dr. Voss, the horse doctor, liked to tell. I am sure the phone calls got mixed up at times.

We got into the delivery room a little after 1:30. The anatomy test was at 4:00 every Friday, and I was sure that I was going to miss it today. After Dr. Voss did a quick exam, he said he would break the water and get things started. He took a small hook and ruptured the amnion. I was a little surprised at the volume of the fluid rush. Dr. Voss turned away to set the hook aside, your mother did one hard push, and you were presented. He reached back and cradled your head, one more push, and you were out.

Can’t remember your weight, 8 pounds, and maybe some 12 ounces. A couple of stitches for Mom, cleaned you up a little, and you two were in a room by 2:30. I stuck around a bit until everyone was settled, and they moved you to the nursery. You were by far the prettiest baby there.

I made it back to class just before the exam. The entire class was in the amphitheater when I rushed in. Late arrivals were not allowed entry. There was a standing ovation and many congregations but no cigars. Everyone was shocked that I made it to the exam.

Now I am sure someone is going to ask for a story about the Drs. Voss. Sandy’s Dr. Voss was an older (gray hair) OB/Gyn, and Dr. Voss, the horse doctor, was a young man (40 some) and very popular with clients and students. He later became the Dean of the vet school, and the new teaching hospital is named after him. Dr. Voss always had stories to tell in class or on calls. He loved to tell the story of a phone call he received one evening during a porker game he was holding at his house. A large group of senior students was present. 

The call was from a young lady, “Dr. Voss?” She asked.

“Yes, this is Dr. Voss.” he replied.

The young lady then went into a long story about her problems to which Dr. Voss would say “I see” or “oh” or the like. Usually with an eye roll or other expressions to the now interested group.

Finally, after several minutes of listening Dr. Voss says “I’m sorry mam, I don’t think I can be of much help for you, I am Dr. Voss the horse doctor.”

There was a brief period of silence then a distinct and loud click as she hung up.

This was one of his favorite stories and had some truth to it as it was backed up by a large group of students.

Two Down at Once

D. E. Larsen, DVM

The appointment said 1:30. I looked at my pocket watch, it said 1:30. I stood in the driveway, wondering what to do now. At least I wasn’t far from the clinic.

Finally, Paul comes out of the house and down the walkway to my truck.

“Sorry for the hold-up,” Paul says as he extends his hand. “Sue was supposed to be here by now. It is her horse, but I guess I can give you a hand, up until there is blood. I don’t do blood.”

Paul is a big guy, well over six feet tall and well-muscled. He stands and watches as I get my things together. Horse castrations were basic surgery,  but I wouldn’t say I liked the procedure. I guess I was just not a horse vet. A lot of guys did the procedure with the horse standing. But with most owners lacking adequate facilities, I was reluctant to do standing castrations. That, and the fact that I watched a classmate lacerate his arm with a scalpel doing a standing castration in school.  I found that a good dose of Pentathol works wonders. It laid them down comfortably, and recovery was fast enough and smooth for the most part.

“Where is the horse?” I ask.

“He is out in the pasture. Sue thought that would be the best place to do this,” Paul said. “He is not a problem to handle. Sue said, you were going to sedate him.”

“Yes, I give an anesthetic, lay them on the ground to do the surgery. They recover without much of a problem.”

“Are you going to be okay if I leave after you get him on the ground?” Paul asked.

“Yes, I will be fine. I tie a leg up, and the surgery if relatively rapid.”

“I would do more, but blood is just one of those things I can’t handle,” Paul said with some anxiety in his voice.

“Well, there is not much with this, and once we get him on the ground, you can just walk away,” I said.

I handed Paul a few things to carry and stood, waiting for him to lead the way to the pasture. I was hoping that he was correct about the horse is no problem to catch. Often the owner has that story, and when the vet arrives, the head goes up, and there is no catching him.

There was no problem today. I picked a nice level spot in the pasture and sat my things down. Paul brought Pepper over with a lead on his halter, and we were set to go.

Pepper was a nice looking young horse, probably less than two years old. He was a gray roan. That probably lead to his name.

I soothed Pepper a little. I had drawn up three grams of Pentathol into a 60 cc syringe. I stood at Pepper’s left shoulder, and Paul was standing at my shoulder, holding the lead. Pepper was as calm as one could expect. I held off the jugular vein with my left hand, palpated it with the back of my right hand, and then slipped the needle into the vein. I glanced at Paul, and he was doing fine. I drew back on the syringe to ensure I was in the vein. A small flashback of blood came into the syringe. It looked like an upside-down reddish mushroom. With everything in place, I started the injection. Then I glanced back a Paul.

There he was, flat out on the ground behind me. That small mushroom of blood in the syringe was all it took. He was out like a light. At least he had some soft ground to land on. My problem now was I had started the injection and couldn’t stop midstream. I gathered the lead rope in my left hand and delivered a full two gram into the vein.

I was able to guide Pepper’s fall back and to his right side so he would end up well away from Paul. The with Pepper on the ground, I slowly gave the other gram of Pentathol to get him well under anesthesia.

With Pepper under control, I went over to check Paul. He was starting to come around when I got down beside him. I helped him sit up, and then after a moment, I helped him onto his feet.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” Paul said. “It doesn’t take much blood to do me in, I guess. Are you going to be alright here? I think I am going back to the house.”

With Paul under control and gone, I put a sideline on Pepper and took a wrap on his left fetlock. Then I pulled that foot forward and up, securing it out of the way. Then I prepped the scrotum with Betadine Scrub and sprayed it with Betadine.

Everything was set for surgery now. I incised the scrotum over each testicle, extending the incision into the testicle, so the tunic was also incised. Then, hooking my finger in the pocket formed by the everted tunics, I pulled both testicles, and their tunics, out of the scrotum.  This freed all the tunic attachments. 

Then I clamped an Oschner forceps across the cord and removed the testicle and tunic with the emasculator. I held a firm grip on the emasculator for a moment to ensure a good tissue crush. I sprayed the cord with an antibiotic and released the forceps. This allowed the cord to retract into the scrotum. The next testicle was removed the same manner. Then with scissors, I removed the bottom of the scrotum between the two incisions. I stretched the opening to ensure adequate drainage and sprayed the area with an antibiotic spray. I sprayed a large area with fly spray, including the tail.

With everything done, I picked up everything and moved out of the way. I removed the sideline and grabbed the lead rope. While I was waiting for Pepper to recover, I gave him a booster to his tetanus vaccination. And since Sue was usually at work during office hours, I gave him a good dose of Dual Pen. I didn’t use antibiotics following surgery if there were no problems, I just thought this might save me a return trip.

It was not long, and Pepper opened his eyes, then with one motion, he righted himself to rest on his sternum. Then he stood up, I needed to steady him a bit, but he was good to go in no time at all. I removed the lead road and gathered my stuff, putting almost everything into the now-empty bucket.

After getting everything put away in the truck, I glanced out to the pasture. Pepper was grazing, almost as nothing happened. I went to the front door and knocked. Paul was a little slow to open the door but looked okay when he did.

“I was just checking to make sure you were okay,” I said.

“I am okay, Doc,” Paul said. “I will have Sue stop by your office to pay the bill and get any instructions.”

“Good enough, you take care of yourself,” I said. “Pepper is up and eating. You don’t need to worry about him, Sue will check him when she gets home.”

Photo by Jan Canty on Unsplash.

Midge

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I had met Midge when she was 2 days old. I was looking at a cow at Ron’s place. I mentioned that we were looking for a dog for the kids.

“We happen to have a new litter of pups. Lab mixes, I would guess,” Ron said.

“The mother is a lab?” I asked.

“No, she is an Australian Shepherd. Well, mostly Australian Shepherd.”

We finished up with the cow, and Ron took me over to the pump house. There was Bessie, curled up in her box with a litter of 8 black puppies. All the pups only had short stubs for a tail, inherited from mom.

“You bring your kids back in 6 weeks, and they can have the pick of the litter,” Ron said with a broad smile.

“You have a deal, I am sure they will enjoy picking out their pup from the bunch. But you had better give away any of the pups you can. The pick of the litter is not that big of a thing for the kids. You wait on us, and you might end up with 7 dogs running around here.”

The kids marked off the weeks on the calendar. They were excited to be getting a new puppy. We all loaded in the car and headed out to Ron’s ranch. It was a warm day in the early summer, and the whole valley was green and growing. It made for a pleasant drive, out Pleasant Valley Road, and over the hill on Berlin Road.

Both Ron and Helen were waiting for us when we pulled into the driveway. The kids were bailing out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. Ron led the parade to the pump house. When he opened the door, the whole litter came tumbling out, falling over one another. They were happy puppies and happy kids. And the black lab mix pups all had legs not much over an inch long.

“These pups are fine, but you know, I don’t think they are black lab crosses,” I said to Helen as we watched the kids. Amy and Dee were on the ground with pups swarming over them, trying to lick the faces. Brenda had made her selection and had scooped her up early. My guess is that would be our pup.

“They have to be labs, there was no other dog around here,” Helen said, looking at Ron for support.

“The only other time there was a dog on the place was when Les came over,” Ron said.

“Yes, but Les’s dog was a Dachshund,” Helen said. “There is no way they could have got together.”

“My guess is when there is a well, there is a way,” I said. “You know the system is made to work. She probably laid down for him.”

Brenda loaded the little female pup into the back seat with the other girls. They had named her Midge before we were out of the driveway. Her legs were never over three inches long, and she conducted herself like a perfect little German Lady.