Hydrogen peroxide (H2O2) is such a strong oxidiser it is highly reactive.
Due to its weak disinfectant and antiseptic properties, hydrogen peroxide as a 3% solution was often used to treat cat fight abscesses. However, it has fallen out of favour because it is thought to slow healing by affecting tissue growth through several possible factors.
Only a very minute concentration of H2O2 can induce healing, and only if not repeatedly applied.
Surgical use can lead to gas embolism formation.
Over the summer, I spent six weeks volunteering for Inti Wara Yassi in Bolivia. The charity was set up in 1992 and now runs three animal sanctuaries throughout this South American country.
The park at which I spent most of my time was Ambue Ari, which is home to over 20 large cats, two species of monkey and a few other exotic species such as tapirs, tejons and many different birds. It was an incredible experience and I would definitely urge other vet students or even qualified vets to get involved in projects like this.
Wading through a waist high swamp, being mauled by a swarm of mosquitos, I think to myself, “What an earth am I doing here?” But after 15 minutes and a short trek through the jungle, Carlos’ cage comes into view and I remember exactly why. I shout “Hola Carlos” and we meow back and forth to each other until I reach the cage. He brushes up against the metal wire, wanting attention. I stroke him through the cage for a couple of minutes before calling “Vamos!” and making my way to the doors – working with Carlos gives me a chance to practise my (very limited) Spanish.
While I’m making my way around, he races through his cage with excitement before stopping to wait patiently at the door. I unlock the cage and attach a rope to my waistband before entering the second door to get to him. He paces, rubbing up against my legs before sitting and licking my hands. I clip him onto the other end of the rope and open the doors. He tugs at the rope to begin with, leading me along the trail that he wants to do today.
I watch out for his every move, prepared to burst into a sprint when he leaps over a log or to unclip his rope when he ducks under a branch to low for me to follow him. He tries to stalk something in the bushes. I can’t see what it is, so I stop him pouncing – trying to strike a balance between letting him be a puma and keeping him from unseen dangers such as snakes.
As the day heats up, he stops to lie down and sleep a while. This is when my war against the mozzies really starts. Sitting still, I have little choice but to watch their ceaseless assaults on my skin, despite my sweating under numerous layers of clothing.
After a time, Carlos appears to have rested enough and continue on his trail. The rough ground and natural obstacles result in the rope getting caught between his back legs. “Step over your rope,” I call out (apparently pumas are bilingual) and, after a couple of attempts, he’s free to walk normally again. I congratulate him: “Muy bien”.
After a few hours of walking, we return to the cage and he utters a deep purr, craving more attention before I say goodbye. I give him a few minutes of fuss before looping his rope around a nearby tree and entering his cage to clean his feeding platform and sleeping area. Leaving his meat on the platform, I return to him, careful to watch for signs that he might pounce while I unclip his rope from the tree. When I do, he tugs towards the cage and we both go through the first of the double doors. I unclip him from the rope and open the second door. He runs towards the platform, leaps onto it, grabs the meat in his jaws and darts into the bushes to eat in peace.
Turning away, I lock the cage behind me and start the return journey through the swamp, not forgetting to call out “Chao” as I leave.
If recent genetic studies are to be believed, domestic dogs evolved from wolves around 11,000 years ago when our ancestors stole wolf cubs, domesticated them and trained them to help hunt for food.
However, other than their shared genealogy, both animals are very different nowadays – particularly when it comes to temperament. The wolf is in every sense a “wild” animal, while the dog is obviously far more suited for the domesticated life of chasing sticks and tummy rubs.
Despite this, media reports of dog attacks, combined with the trend among certain elements of society to own vicious “status dogs”, have led to a situation where many Brits are afraid of strange dogs and people are becoming increasingly wary of our canine companions in general.
A poll of more than 1,000 adults (commissioned by behaviour product supplier The Company of Animals) found that 71% of people are nervous around dogs they don’t know, while more than half (54%) are worried by particular breeds.
Around 20% also admitted to having become more afraid of dogs over the past decade.
This news comes as a shock, and it would be a huge shame if man’s best friend was to slowly find himself usurped by the cat, spelling an end to walkies as we know it and guaranteeing you’ll only ever get your stick back if you retrieve it yourself.
Mind you, we can but wonder what a “status llama” might look like.
The animal should be prepared for the study by being starved for a minimum of 24 hours. Drinking during this period is allowed.
If the study is to include the large intestine, it is important the large bowel has been evacuated prior to the study.
A barium concentration of 80-100% W/W is used. The volume to be administered should be 6ml/kg-12ml/kg BW. The high dose/kg is recommended for cats and small dogs, while the low dose/kg is recommended for large dogs.
You can administer the solution into the cheek pouch of the patient using a 50ml syringe with a catheter tip, and allow the patient to swallow it in its own time. It is important to not extend the animal’s neck, or to administer the liquid at a rate that is too great for it to be able to drink comfortably.
Make sure you give the patient an opportunity to stop drinking and take a breath. If the oesophagus is not to be included in the study, or if you are administering the contrast material to a cat that is fractious, then an oesophageal tube may be used to administer the barium.
If sedation is required, acetylpromazine is a useful sedative, as it doesn’t significantly alter gastrointestinal function. The use of atropine, ketamine, and barbiturates will depress gastrointestinal motility, and are not recommended in dogs. Ketamine/diazepam is useful for feline sedation.
A young cat in good condition with a history of coughing and mixed dyspnoea with increased abdominal effort on expiration is most likely to have feline asthma.
Although chest radiographs are necessary to confirm, harsh lung sounds in all fields and the absence of a heart murmur or gallop rhythm makes the diagnosis of asthma very likely.
Everyone knows that there’s an ancient feud between vet and medical students. Glasgow is no exception – only the other day, I had a heated debate on the topic with another student (who, annoyingly, wasn’t even a medic).
While, for the most part, it’s just friendly banter, there is some truth in both arguments.
A doctor will usually have one area of focus and will spend his whole career becoming more and more specialised in that particular field, whereas a vet will be the GP, surgeon, physio, neurologist and much more for several different species, not just one. As a first year student, it’s sometimes a little scary and overwhelming to think about the broad spectrum of knowledge we need to gain in just five years.
When the medics graduate, they’ll become junior doctors and from then on will begin narrowing down their fields of interest until eventually finding themselves as “left toe specialists”, or something. In 4.5 years, we’ll be let loose into the world of veterinary and, at the end of day one, will have probably already spayed a cat, pregnancy tested a few cows and euthanised a dog, with a rabbit or bird thrown in somewhere too.
Not only are the medics likely to be more specialised than us, they also “go further” than we do in terms of treatment. In my interview for Glasgow vet school two years ago, after expressing an interest in orthopaedics, I was asked the ethical question: “How far is too far?”
I didn’t really have an answer but tried to reason my way through it, discussing things like kidney transplants in cats in America and The Bionic Vet, and came to the conclusion that every case must be treated individually, having weighed up the pros and cons of “heroic treatments” in each situation.
Now I realise that these heroic treatments are fairly uncommon in the veterinary world. Kidney transplants, for example, which are routine in medicine, are non-existent in veterinary in the UK. Is this a consequence of lack of funding and resources or lack of experience and knowledge in the field? Probably a little of both.
The GP vet will play the role of all these specialised fields to some extent (some being more qualified to do so than others). While we can specialise and work in referral practices, the average mixed or small animal vet will find themselves becoming a “Jack of all trades and master of none”.
Does that make us more intelligent than the medics, or just more well-rounded? Is it better to have a broad spectrum of knowledge and practical skills or to be very skilled at a few specific procedures?
It’s common knowledge that cats cannot thrive on dog food due to inadequate taurine levels in dog food, resulting in cardiomyopathy.
Taurine deficiency in cats will also cause retinal degeneration. Once generalised retinal atrophy has occurred, there is no reversing the disease.
Taurine content is high in milk, liver and shellfish. The daily requirement for the cat is 35-56mg.