In part one of this series we discussed the important questions to ask when taking a history from owners of dogs and cats that are having seizures. In this part, we look at the differential diagnoses for these cases.
There are many ways to classify the different causes of seizures, but the simplest is as follows:
Structural – where intracranial pathology is causing the seizures.
Reactive – where an extracranial issue is causing a seizure response in a normal brain.
Idiopathic – a diagnosis of exclusion where we are unable to identify a reason for the disturbances in brain activity.
Structural
Intracranial differential diagnoses include:
inflammatory processes (meningoencephalitis), such as steroid responsive meningitis-arteritis
viral diseases (for example, distemper)
metabolic storage diseases
neoplasia
vascular accidents involving clots or bleeds
hydrocephalus
trauma
Reactive
Extracranial differentials include:
hepatic encephalopathy due to hepatic failure or a portosystemic shunt
various toxicities, such as lead, chocolate, caffeine, ethylene glycol, parasiticides and slug/snail bait
metabolic issues, such as hypoglycaemia, hypocalcaemia and thiamine deficiency
Idiopathic
If diagnostic investigations (including advanced imagery, such as MRI) are unable to identify an underlying cause of recurrent seizures, this is referred to as idiopathic epilepsy.
To break down this list of differentials into a more relevant and concise list is to consider the most common differentials according to signalment.
Every vet has their niche, speciality or personal interest. I think I’m slowly finding that mine may be located somewhere in the gastrointestinal (GI) system; as the daughter of an endoscopy nurse I like to think I’m following in the family footsteps.
I was really enjoying my lectures on the topic until we reached the point of hiatal hernias.
The unfortunate cognitive dissonance of veterinary medicine is that the more interesting or objectively “cooler” the case, the more likely it is often incredibly sad from the perspective of the patient.
Vet geek
In this case, I personally was finding the concept of a sliding hernia pretty “cool” (don’t judge, I’ve been out of the game for a year and I’ve missed nerding out over-vetty stuff), until I learned that the majority of brachycephalic dogs suffer from the condition.
The mechanism behind this being that, in an effort to breathe through an actively collapsing airway, a brachycephalic dog can effectively create such a negative pressure that it sucks its stomach through its diaphragm and into its thorax.
The worst part of this is that it’s suspected the majority of cases are subclinical (or, at least, subclinical to the owner), as the main clinical signs associated with nausea, such as drooling and lip smacking, are characteristic of short-nosed breeds anyway.
Less love?
I wonder if a pilot finds it impossible to enjoy a flight? Even if you stuck him in first class with a martini, the Friends box set, comfy slippers and a sirloin steak on the menu, would he be able to switch off, or would he find his mind focusing on minute turbulence? Would he keep checking the altitude, or picturing the cockpit, wondering: “What on Earth is going on up there?”
Along a similar vein, by the time I finish vet school I wonder if I will ever be able to truly enjoy a dog in the way I used to? If somebody had presented me with the fluffiest, most adorably friendly puppy in the world the day before I’d started first year, I’d have been ecstatic – I may even have passed out from happiness.
Not just a puppy
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m never NOT going to love being handed a puppy, but it’s not just a puppy anymore.
Has it been vaccinated?
Was its mother healthy?
Did the breeder socialise it effectively, or will it forever have a fear of bearded men in funny hats?
Is there a cleft palate behind those tiny teeth?
Are there worms lurking in that adorable pot belly?
It’s like my subconscious races to take a history in every animal – even if they’re not a patient!
Natural versus artificial selection
As a constant reminder of my disturbing lecture notes, while tutoring GCSE biology I regularly cover the topic of “natural versus artificial selection” with my students. This includes covering the staggering feet of man’s journey over the past 1,000 years to convert the wolf into anything from a small bear to something that fits in a handbag.
Each time I teach this topic I find myself fighting the urge to be overly pious, knowing no exam will ever ask them to list the ways the pug is destined to a snorting existence or why the dachshund can’t jump onto his owner’s lap for fear of shattering his spine.
I feel including that sort of thing in the syllabus could certainly go a long way – and perhaps the best way to promote healthy dogs is with re-education from the ground up. But is that my responsibility? More importantly, is it the responsibility of vets in general?
Flawed from birth
With some owners (especially breeders), mentioning any predispositions or hereditary conditions of their dog is akin to attacking their personal brand.
Some people are “dog people”, while some are very passionately and unequivocally only “pug people” or “sausage dog people” or “golden people” – and it’s generally a struggle not to cause offense when telling an owner their animal is slightly overweight, let alone that their pride and joy is genetically predisposed to be flawed from birth.
The frustrating thing is that if owners knew the risks to their particular pup then prophylactic management could really make a difference to these animals’ lives.
Not walking brachycephalic breeds on hot days, keeping the weight off of larger dogs to take the stress off of their joints – prevention is always better than cure, and if we can’t prevent the breeding and purchasing of puppies with a gene pool so shallow only a gnat could drown in it then at the very least we should be aiming to prevent suffering and promoting comfort.
Balancing act
The danger, as always, is that if you tell an owner what they don’t want to hear too many times, they won’t come back. So, the balancing act lies in maintaining the client-vet relationship so as to ensure animal welfare, while not being too pious or condescending.
This is equally important in day-to-day life. Being able to switch off is a must for any professional to maintain mental health, yet it’s sometimes hard to stay quiet when your friend mentions their aspiration to own 50 sausage dogs.
My question for you is, does a vet ever stop being a vet, and is a dog ever really just “a dog”?
I read somewhere in the early days of lockdown that several rescue shelters have been experiencing 100% empty kennels for the first time since opening.
This was truly heart-warming to hear, and seemed at first as a small silver lining around the dark clouds of the pandemic. However, it shortly came to light that demand for new pets, both young and old, was sky-rocketing.
More households were finding they had more time on their hands. People were lonely and in need of company, or learning to better appreciate the outdoors during the unprecedented good weather and fancied a four-legged companion by their side.
Think before you buy
I’ve spoken before about the dangers of buying a pet during the passion of the moment, without proper consideration or planning, but as long as both are present I’m wholeheartedly for the mutual companionship that both dogs and cats can bring, especially in the current climate.
It was only after a conversation concerning a friend’s adorable young dog – who is both the most friendly and energetic creature in the world and a little bashful when it comes to running into other dogs on her walks – that I began to think of the future and the ways in which lockdown might have inadvertently shaped the next generation of pets.
Phoebe – pre-lockdown puppy of Eleanor’s friend Felix.
Opening the social window
A social window is a short period of time when dogs and cats are growing up, in which they are the most open and absorbent to new experiences.
After this window has closed, these animals can become suspicious or downright terrified of anything they didn’t come across during their early days – sort of like the grandparents who are a little wary of the iPad, saying: “We never had that in my day.”
This window has always posed a tricky obstacle in the past, as neither puppies nor kittens can legally be sold until eight weeks of age, but the social window for cats is nearing its end at around only seven weeks. So, in the past – unless breeders were well informed, educated, and responsible – lots of owners could end up with a bit of a scaredy-cat (I‘ll pause for the eye-rolls).
The outside world
During a young animal’s “social window” they should be experiencing a variety of scenarios and situations in both a positive and safe manner, to avoid sensitisation and steer towards a comfortable association. In the same way many of us have aversion to traumas of our past, our dogs and cats too can hold an almost unconscious grudge.
The thing about lockdown that most new pet owners probably won’t have thought about is how it has unfortunately deprived an entire generation of young dogs and cats from experiencing enough of the world around them.
The decreased access to outdoors and the different smells, sights, and sounds it brings might be leading to a wave of pets that will always be just a little bit trepidatious.
I think it needs mentioning that there is, for the most part, nothing wrong with a cautious pet – as long as the owner is aware of their pet’s disposition and knows how to manage it.
Management can be as simple as taking them for walks during less busy times of the day, or brightly coloured coats, leads, collars or reigns to alert other dog walkers that they’re in need of a little extra space
Addressing any behavioural ticks with proper therapy or training can also go a long way. Therapy in this case does not mean lying back on a sofa to delve deep into childhood traumas, but a gradual, supportive normalisation of stressful triggers.
Next gen
If we really are producing a generation of nervous pets, then it is the fault of no one person – no “bad” owners, mistakes, or malpractice; simply a product of the times – crazy, unique and unpredictable times.
However, it is the responsibility of any owner to be supportive, observant, and proactive, regardless of your pet’s quirks or the times we live in – another example of why taking on a pet is such a huge commitment that can never be taken lightly.
Consult with your vet if you have concerns and always be patient with your animals, just like us, they are trying their best to keep their balance on unsteady ground.
The decision of whether or not to get a new pet is an important one, but the decision of where to get it from might be more important.
Volunteering for two weeks this Christmas at a cattery has really made me believe we, as a society, need to undergo a significant evolution in terms of how we approach buying our furry friends.
Every year, thousands of dogs and cats kept in rescue shelters are euthanised because they never manage to find a new home. At the same time, according to Government estimates, 560,000 puppies are born in the UK each year, at a minimum.
Changing attitudes
As a second year vet student with little experience as either a breeder or a dog owner, I recognise I have little position in which to tell people where to purchase their pets. But if our attitude to pet buying remains unchanged, this self-perpetuating issue will only continue – in fact, with dog and cat ownership on the rise, it might get worse.
We appear to prefer the new to the old when it comes to pets, in the same way that, given the choice, most people would opt for a brand new car over a second-hand model.
We also seem to be very blinded by the ideology of our favourite breeds. Pure-bred animals make up a very tiny percentage of shelter occupants and are also often the first to be adopted.
Domino effect
Most sheltered animals are there because their owners couldn’t cope, changed jobs, moved abroad or even passed away. The animals that never make it out of shelters aren’t necessarily aggressive, undisciplined or even unfriendly, it’s simply because they don’t match up to our idea of the perfect dog – which, to me, is truly heart breaking.
So many advantages exist to adopting from a rescue shelter, for starters you kick off a really positive domino effect by not only creating room in a shelter for another animal to be taken in, but by educating your family and friends to an option they may never have fully considered, potentially leading to more adoptions.
The process will also be less expensive than buying a pedigree puppy or kitten and you have the added bonus of knowing you are both changing and saving an animal’s life.
Happy and healthy
Even if you do decide to go with a breeder, you can still look out for animal welfare by buying from one you trust and is properly licensed.
You can help to validate the health of the puppy/kitten by asking to see the mother – if she seems happy and healthy this is a good indication of the same for her offspring – and ensuring the animal you are taking home is fully vaccinated and treated for worms.
By buying from recognised and responsible breeders, rather than puppy/kitten farms, you are still helping reduce the number of animals that needlessly end up in welfare and to move towards a future where shelters never have to put a healthy animal down.
The announcement of a corporate veterinary group’s collaboration with the new Keele University/Harper Adams veterinary school struck a few chords, and seemingly opened a figurative can of worms that (like their literal parasitic counterparts) just doesn’t sit well in my gut.
A few points to consider here, the first of which I have written about before, although not about this particular arrival on the vet school scene.
More vet schools needed?
Do we need more vet schools? The short answer, in my opinion, is no. The employment crisis in the veterinary industry as it stands is multi-faceted – pluck a reason out of the air and it almost certainly has some impact on why practices are begging for vets:
compassion fatigue
poor working conditions
work-life balance
salary
lack of long-term prospects
Brexit
client pressure
under-supported young vets
I could talk about any one of these reasons at length (and have done), but, for the purposes of discussing the above gem of veterinary news, I will focus on the last point: support for new graduates or young vets.
Some practices are excellent at providing a nurturing environment for young vets, but many are not and often not through any fault other than lack of staff.
This lack of support leads to high stress levels, young vets becoming fed up and looking elsewhere for a different career that provides them with the mental stimulation they desire, but with better support, hours and pay to go with it – thus the vicious cycle of extremely talented young people leaving the profession after a few years begins.
Problem solver?
Will opening more vet schools help the staffing problem? No. It is a short-sighted, temporary solution to fill a gap nobody seems to be able to plug. But the more graduates that accept jobs from practices who ideally wanted an experienced vet and can’t source one, the worse the retention problem will become. It is unfair on both parties to take on a new grad if a practice does not have the resources to sufficiently train and help them through their first few years.
To solve the retention problem, the profession needs to improve working conditions and encourage vets to stay, not just find more avenues to farm out new grads to try and bridge the gap.
Are corporates good for the profession?
I could (and probably will) discuss corporates at great length, but there is no clear answer for them being good for the profession. Having been stung with the sore end of the corporate tail once before, I’m inclined to say no, but that would be based on my experience of one particular practice. Conversely, I have colleagues who work for corporate practices that seem to be very well run and provide a great environment for learning.
My opinion is not fact and, to keep it short and sweet, is summarised below:
The idea behind corporate practices is often well meaning, but does not always work when put into practice. For example, the graduate schemes sound great, but only work if they are implemented correctly on an individual practice level.
Some corporates are extortionately priced compared to independents – there is a fine line between charging appropriately and taking the biscuit. This is likely exaggerated because many independents have been selling themselves short for years; however, it is not okay to triple prices in a week when an independent practice is taken over. All it does is feed the myth that vets are only in it for the money.
Long-established corporately owned practices seem to have better client satisfaction than practices newly acquired under a corporate brand as the shock of takeover, staff changes and price increases are long gone.
Corporates aim to provide better working hours (a four-day week, for example) and flexible working patterns, but, again, this varies on an individual basis.
The hand of many partners in independent practice has been forced as the profession continues to change. Young people do not have the disposable cash to buy into partnerships, as was the tradition. Corporates have taken advantage of this by buying out those wishing to retire without any new blood coming through.
Corporate practices can vary wildly even within the same group – much of it comes down to the individual practice, as with independents. As much as corporates offer many benefits with their nice shiny contracts, many independents match or better these. Likewise, an independent or corporate practice can be an equally catastrophic place to work in if managed badly at the practice level.
Now, to the elephant in the room…
Should a corporate group be running a vet school hospital?
Is a corporate running a vet school hospital any different from the outsourced rotation format of the other newest veterinary schools – Nottingham and Surrey – whereby they have no on-site university clinic, but rotations are undertaken in nearby hospitals?
The concern with new veterinary schools popping up and proposing this sort of final-year teaching is the associated practices are then less available to provide EMS placements for local students. The purpose-built corporate hospital that is to be partnered with the new veterinary school avoids this particular hurdle in part, at least (there’s no mention of an equine hospital or farm clinic), but is it still a good idea?
Remaining impartial
It comes down to whether the corporate presence is going to be ingrained into the teaching. Will the graduate scheme offered by the group be heavily recommended? Would the business structure and branded drugs be taught to the students?
At university, we were always told to learn drugs not brand names to remain impartial. Would that impartiality be maintained appropriately in a hospital that uses own-branded drugs and whose bigwig advisory boards dictate which products should and shouldn’t be offered?
Encouraging research into all available treatment and diagnostic options is a key aspect of learning and practising evidence-based medicine on rotations.
Familiarity breeds
Even if no direct corporate emphasis exists, surely the undercurrent is going to sway the students into applying for jobs in sister practices under a graduate scheme.
As a new grad, you are bewildered by everything and getting a heads-up on even the smallest of obstacles can make a huge different to your day in the first few weeks. Therefore, simple things, such as the practice management system used in every practice the group owns, may be enough to sway the decision between accepting one of two jobs, simply because using a system you’ve gotten used to on rotations will make your life that bit easier during day-to-day practice.
Conclusion
It remains to been seen if a corporate partnership with the new vet school will be a success for the students under their care and the profession as a whole, and I’ll withhold judgement for now.
However, with predictions corporate takeover will saturate at 70% of practices in the profession, it is undeniable the veterinary landscape is moving further adrift from its once independent roots as the corporate giants continue to tighten their grip.
It’s surprising how much we rely on the internet and associated technologies. In fact, you don’t quite realise how much it helps until you find yourself without it.
I experienced a weird widespread internet fault. I’m not sure if it was localised to to my geographical area, but, for a few hours, neither my mobile data would work on my phone or the internet on the practice computers (although I’m not sure if they were just being their usual painstakingly slow dinosaur selves) – even the clients were commenting there seemed to be a data blackout.
Regardless, it made my consulting morning surprisingly more challenging.
First appointment
Repeat aglepristone injection for mismating
I go to check the protocol as I know the timings are different to when given for pyometra. The BSAVA app crashes four times on opening before I accept defeat and find a bound copy of the formulary.
I then realise things are listed by drug name rather than brand name and draw a blank. I try to open the NOAH website on the consult room PC, but this inevitably crashes the internet browser. Of course it does.
Suddenly the name aglepristone is dragged from the depths of my brain and I leaf through the formulary once more. That wastes nearly the whole appointment time before I even manage to find the drug, draw it up and give it.
The computer freezes while trying to print consent forms. Luckily it’s a fairly straightforward admit for fluids/treatment and the client knows the drill. I hand over to the ops vet and leave her to work out doses.
Third appointment
A transfer from the out-of-hours provider
After skim reading the long history (that consists mainly of numerous phone calls back and forward as to whether the owner could get the collapsed dog in the car), I finally get to the point and call the client in.
The dog is bouncing and back to normal, apart from a stonker of a heart murmur. Cardiology is not my strong point and after a lengthy discussion about starting medication, and much faff flicking through the compendium trying to remember various side effects, I manage to convince them to trial medication.
Fourth appointment
Vaccination
Yay, no formulary needed.
Fifth appointment
Medicine check
One client thinks her dog has gained weight since being prescribed a particular medication. I highly doubt this is the cause of weight gain, but say I will quickly (or not so) check the data sheet.
I reach for the NOAH Compendium (when I manage to locate a paper copy) rather than the formulary, because I can’t for the life of me spell the active ingredient. On skim reading the page, can’t find anything about weight gain or appetite, but it’s not as clear cut as the lovely “clinical particulars” or “contra-indications and adverse reactions” tabs on the website. I close the book.
The client seems to be in a rush, but wants to discuss lowering the dose (are you serious? Could you have not said that while I had the page open?). I flick through and eventually find the page again, and work out the dose as they’re practically running out of the door.
Sixth appointment
Pregnant bitch
The owner asks about worming and once again I leaf through the compendium to find the protocol, only to realise we don’t have that formulation in stock.
Of course I’ve shut the book – but, before I find the right page again, one of the fantastic receptionists has materialised a bottle from somewhere and is flashing the data sheet in front of me for reference.
Seventh appointment
As she had no internet, Jordan turned to the NOAH’s Compendium for guidance, with varying results.
Dog bitten by a ferret
Small wound, possibly infected, but the dog is very wriggly. I prescribe Amoxyclav – one of the few things I instinctively know the dose of – and meloxicam (definitely no books required to work out that dose).
Eighth appointment
Puppy diarrhoea
Can you give young puppies probiotic paste? Back to the book…
It’s not listed in the compendium, and the box doesn’t indicate a minimum age – normally I would check the product website… Sigh. I search for the other vet to ask what feels like the 100th stupid question today. So it went on…
No time to lose
The point is, I didn’t realise quite how much using the internet on my phone sped up my consults. A 10-second search on an app turns into a couple of minutes leafing through a book for a drug dose. When your consults are only 10 minutes, that extra couple of minutes in each one adds up and very quickly I found myself getting behind, and, therefore, more stressed.
I can’t retain numerous drug doses in my head – or at least don’t trust myself to rely on memory for many of them except the most common ones – so maybe this dependence on technology is more of an issue for new grads than more experienced vets who seem to be an encyclopaedia of drug doses.
I was thankful this hadn’t happened on a large animal day – as someone with a terrible sense of direction, I would definitely have been stuck in the middle of nowhere with no Google Maps to get me home.
Being a new grad is scary. And, although I don’t think I’ve been dropped in the deep end as much as some of my colleagues may have, I feel entirely overwhelmed the majority of the time and question several times a day whether I actually went to uni.
Starting in practice has made me realise how little I actually know…
The first challenge was getting my head around flea and worming treatments – with so many products on the shelf (yet somehow someone is still to come up with one that just kills every ectoparasite and endoparasite), where do you start? It’s ridiculous something so simple that so many vets seemingly do without thinking about is actually so complicated and never explained at uni.
Without a net
“No matter how confident I was under supervision, as soon as that safety net wasn’t there, things were much scarier.” IMAGE: retrostar / Fotolia.
Surgery is a whole new ball game too. I’ve done plenty of neutering, but always with someone there to confirm what I was doing was correct. However, on my own, scalpel in hand, I suddenly realised I had no idea what I was doing. Or rather, no matter how confident I was under supervision, as soon as that safety net wasn’t there, things were much scarier.
Consults themselves are okay – I just feel like I’m constantly in a communication skills tutorial, putting on a friendly face, trying to assure the owner their decrepit dog that is trying to eat me and of a breed I’m not keen on is just lovely.
However, it’s all the resulting admin that seems to take all the time – writing clinical notes, charging, recording batch numbers, etc. Nobody tells you at uni how much paperwork there is in the real world.
Fraudulent feelings
I feel like an imposter, blundering along, feeling entirely unqualified to give out professional advice. Any minute someone is going to tell me it was all a mistake, I’m not qualified enough to be a vet and I need to go back to uni.
And I’m getting paid for it, which feels completely alien, after years of unpaid EMS. Why would someone want to pay me for not really having a clue what I’m doing?
Some things I’m sure of (or as sure as you can be when you’re dealing with medicine and animals), but most things seem to trigger a very distant memory from vet school, leaving me wondering why I didn’t take things on board more at the time or whether I’ve actually just got a really poor memory, and how an earth I passed any exams if I can’t remember what any drugs are called.
Unfair comparisons
One of the main things I’ve come to appreciate is how good other vets are – those that are a few years qualified seem in a totally different league.
To begin with, I was despairing a bit. I felt completely inadequate compared to vets who have a bit, but not a massive amount, of experience, yet seem to be able to deal with anything. However, I’ve been telling myself that I’m not seeing the stages in between – I realised I hadn’t really come across many “just-qualified” vets on EMS (except interns), so I was comparing my ability with someone a minimum of two years out, not six weeks.
It is difficult to not compare yourself to others around you, but it only causes distress, especially if, like me, you’re a new grad surrounded by good vets.
As the end of vet school draws ever nearer, my fellow final-year students have been busy not only completing rotations, but also organising a number of events and keepsakes to act as a well-deserved send-off.
With the final-year dinner, graduation ball, final-year holiday and yearbook, we have been inundated with requests for ideas, contributions and cash.
To add to this, a number of final-year students have taken on the challenge of facing the often-gruelling weather of the north, lurking around the library after nightfall and sidling into the hospital out of hours to continue a long-standing tradition of the University of Glasgow School of Veterinary Medicine – the soon-to-be-new-graduates’ naked calendar.
Time-honoured tradition
The calendar has been a Glasgow vet school tradition for many years.
My colleagues have been baring flesh across the Scottish countryside and around the vet campus to contribute to a masterpiece of (for the most part) tasteful animal, vet or countryside-themed photos, to raise money for a number of great causes. The final-year naked calendar has been an annual fund-raiser for many years and the tradition has not died with the class of 2017.
Proceeds from sales of the calendar will be split between The Trusty Paws Clinic and Students for Animals in Need (SAIN), with a small proportion going towards our graduation ball.
It’s fantastic to be able to use the calendar tradition to support the much-loved student charities Glasgow vet school is proud to be home to.
The calendars are being sold at a pre-sale price of £8 until the end of March and will be then be available for £10 each. To order, email Alice at 2019429C@student.gla.ac.uk for bank transfer details and state how many copies are required.
Trusty Paws
The Trusty Paws Clinic was set up in Glasgow to provide free veterinary care to dogs belonging to the homeless. Students from stages of the veterinary course are involved in gaining resources, fund-raising and organisation of the monthly clinics.
The clinics involve fourth year students, supervised by a qualified vet, volunteering to conduct clinical examinations and administer basic treatments such as vaccinations, worming and flea control. I had the pleasure of being involved in a clinic last year, which enabled me to experience how appreciative the owners are.
Resources for the dogs – such as coats, food, collars and toys – are also given out at the clinics, thanks to donations via an Amazon wish list. The charity has now expanded to London, too, where RVC students run the clinics.
SAIN is a charity set up and run by students at Glasgow vet school, and offers financial aid for animals presented to the university’s Small Animal Hospital and Weipers Centre Equine Hospital that may not otherwise be able to receive the treatment they require.
Students from all year groups contribute to fund-raising and assessment of eligible cases. A number of animals have benefited from the funding available over the years.
Originally a charity set up by veterinary students for the homeless hounds of Glasgow in October 2014, Trusty Paws has become incredibly successful and has received a huge amount of public support.
This success has allowed the charity to run monthly clinics at the Simon Community Scotland drop-in centre, providing free health checks, vaccinations, microchipping, and flea and worming treatment for the pets of the homeless.
Essential supplies, such as food, coats and harnesses for the dogs, are also given out at these clinics for those in need.
Branching out
The success of the Glasgow clinics has led to a branch of the charity opening in London, with the first clinic taking place in November 2015.
Run by fourth year RVC students, the clinics take place at the West London Day Centre in Marylebone, which also provides other services for the homeless.
The expansion of the charity is excellent news for the pets of the homeless, for whom we can continue to provide the veterinary care they deserve.
The Glasgow clinics are organised by the student committee, but health checks are conducted by other fourth year student volunteers. Last week I had the chance to get involved and, under the supervision of a volunteer vet, conducted my first full consultation that didn’t involve actors in a communication skills class.
My patient, Bruno, wasn’t particularly well. The owner said he was not himself (he certainly looked depressed), had lost a significant amount of weight since his last visit and had a slow heart rate, in addition to some evident skin issues.
The vet suspected Cushing’s disease, so we referred him to the local Pets’n’Vets branch that undertakes any secondary veterinary care Trusty Paws patients require. They have conducted blood tests, paid for by the charity, and have confirmed the diagnosis.
Offering support
While a little daunting to be thrown straight into a full consultation, I thoroughly enjoyed helping out at the clinic and would certainly encourage other students (whether in Glasgow or London) to do so in the future.
The clients are extremely appreciative and evidently love their pets dearly, so it’s easy to see the benefits of such a charity to everyone involved.
Alternatively, the charity has two Amazon wishlists (one for Glasgow, one for London), enabling supporters to purchase specific products that each clinic requires.
