Building on from last week’s blog on telephone advice, this is what I advise owners they can do at home if their pet has been exposed to a toxin.
Figure 2. The patient’s blood gas analysis and electrolyte panel. Note the sodium concentration.
The main exposure routes are ocular, dermal and gastrointestinal.
Ocular
Acids and alkalis cause the most severe effects, as they can cause ongoing damage for some time after initial contact.
Eye irrigation
Avoid contact lens solution as this can cause further irritation. Instead, I recommend:
tepid water, saline or distilled water
20 to 30 minutes (ideally)
rinse from medial to lateral, to avoid contamination of the other eye
Once the eye(s) have been flushed, recommend the animal be taken to the veterinary clinic for further assessment. Corneal ulceration can be difficult to see with the naked eye.
Dermal
Owners need to take precautions to protect themselves from contact with the toxin. The aim here is for owners to remove as much of the toxin off the skin of their pet without exposing themselves to it.
The most common method is bathing or rinsing with a mild dish soap in warm water. If it is a dry power and it safe, vacuuming off the powders may be tried, unless risk of aerosolisation of the toxin is high.
Gastrointestinal
Oral exposure
Ideally wearing gloves, instruct the owner to wipe the inside of the lips and over the gums using a damp dish cloth to try to remove any toxin remaining on the mucous membranes. Warn the pet may try to bite and, if it does, to stop immediately.
Ingested toxins
Inducing emesis depends on the type of toxin, but, either way, I do not recommend emesis induction to be performed at home. I have seen disastrous effects from salt slurries (Figures 1 and 2).
Emesis induction is most safely performed in a clinical setting where the medications that can be administered are safer and more effective.
Seizures
Nothing can be done at home to stop a seizure. If a toxin is causing a pet to seizure then it is unlikely they will stop, so will require medications. The pet will need bringing into the clinic immediately.
I suggest owners do not try to put their fingers in their pet’s mouth, as they are very unlikely to choke on their own tongue.
Wrap them in a blanket to help prevent injury to the owners. Once in the car, keep the head slightly down – if they do vomit or have large amounts of foam then it is allowed to fall out of the mouth, not build at the back of the mouth and lead to aspiration.
Euthanasia is a big part of our work as veterinarians. Working in an emergency setting, it is something I have to face on every shift.
It doesn’t get any easier no matter how many times I have to do it, but I have fine-tuned my approach over the years so each euthanasia process runs as smoothly as possible, with minimal additional stress to both patient and client.
This month, I will talk about taking care of your client.
Communication is key
Euthanasia is a big part of our work as veterinarians.
The most important aspect of taking care of your client in this difficult time is to make sure you really focus on communicating clearly, effectively and, most importantly, with sincere empathy.
First, I listen to their concerns, and why they have made the difficult decision to euthanise their pet.
Quality of life decisions can be a very grey area, and sometimes what you think may be manageable as a veterinarian can be a huge quality of life concern for a pet owner.
A prime example is osteoarthritis in older dogs. You may assess them as being clinically well except for some difficulty walking, but the client sees their pet every day and notices the struggles they go through.
Euthanasia is a difficult conclusion for them to come to and, in most instances, I will defer to the client when it comes to assessing the quality of life of their pet.
Quality assessment
One way I help clients assess their pet’s quality of life is by asking them about a few aspects of it, including:
Can your pet do the things that make them happy?
Do they spend more days sad, depressed and ill compared to the number of days they are bright, happy and eating?
Is your pet in pain? Is this pain manageable?
Confirmation
Once a client has expressed they want to euthanise their pet, I always try to confirm three things:
That they have actually decided to euthanise their pet. I frame the question like: “So, my understanding from our conversation is that you have made the decision to euthanise Fluffy today?” Sometimes, when you ask this question, the client reveals they have not actually come to that decision yet, which means you will need to backtrack a little and guide them through the decision process again.
Whether they would like to be present for the euthanasia.
How they would like us to handle the after care.
I also always try to manage all documentation and finances before the euthanasia so the clients will be in a position to leave immediately after the procedure, meaning they can begin to grieve rather than have to do paperwork. The only exception to this is when the patient is in a critical condition, meaning euthanasia cannot wait.
Explaining the process
Try not to perform the euthanasia in your consult room or in the main treatment areas – if you have a private room for euthanasias, that is the most ideal. This is important especially if the client comes back in the future with another pet or a new pet. They often find it difficult to walk into your consult room and be reminded of the euthanasia of their beloved pet.
I like to give clients some time to spend alone with their pet to say their goodbyes in private. When I come back into the room, I start by explaining the process of the euthanasia, covering the following things every single time:
Euthanasia is an overdose of an anaesthetic agent
The process is quick – 10 to 20 seconds
It is completely painless
The pet doesn’t close their eyes afterwards
The pet can have a couple deep breaths and muscle tremors
The pet can release their bowels and bladder (especially important to warn of this if the clients want to hold their pet)
Lastly, if their pet came into the hospital in shock and obtunded, where I have fluid resuscitated them, meaning they are now more bright and alert, I warn the clients that despite their pet looking better, the underlying disease remains the same.
Once the euthanasia is performed, I again ask if the client wants to spend a little more time in private with their pet. Finally, when the client leaves, they typically will say “thank you”.
Whatever you do, do not say something like “my pleasure” or “you’re welcome” like you would for a vaccination consult – this is a natural response, but would be a terrible faux pas. I simply say “I’m very sorry for your loss. Take care for now and let us know if we can help in any way”.
Next month, I will talk about taking care of your patient throughout the euthanasia process.
It has long been a fear – among those inside the profession and outside – that university places to study veterinary medicine are not as accessible as they should be.
There is a perception the course, if not the vocation, is slightly elitist – not helped by the impression of most clients that the medical bills they are unaccustomed to paying for themselves mean vets must be absolutely rolling in it.
I certainly think of myself as extraordinarily lucky to have snagged one of the over-subscribed university places four years ago. I had parents who could afford the time and who were willing to drive me to various EMS placements, and I lived in close proximity to friendly veterinary practices with the patience to have me shadowing them every week.
Resources
I also went to a school with the resources to support me through my studies and had a stable and happy home life, which gave me the secure space I needed to revise and prepare for interviews. I even had a grandmother willing and able to drop everything to fly to the other end of the UK for my Edinburgh interview at pretty much last minute’s notice.
Veterinary medicine is an incredibly competitive, and sometimes arduous, application process, and even students with all the money, time, and educational and familial support in the world struggle to make it in.
I can only imagine how the added pressure of COVID-19 could have made this process so much harder and reduced its accessibility even further.
Striking a toll…
When you combine the mental health pandemic secondary to the coronavirus pandemic with the mental health crisis affecting medical students at every stage of their training – even as early as pre-interview – it becomes apparent how striking a toll this year may have had on some would-be vets.
Money can also, unfortunately, be a crucial factor when applying to any university position. With the financial burden impressed on countless families since the start of 2020 – and with national unemployment sky-rocketing – the door to further education may be closing to many more.
Parents worrying about job losses and money problems may be less able to support a child through the application process, and those students coming from complicated or disruptive households have not had the option to take their studies elsewhere – namely a café or school library.
Tears in tiers
Those students who have remained in Tier 3 for the majority of the year will have been hit harder by these factors than those in lower tiers.
Concerns have also risen for international students and maintaining diversity in the course. Overseas vets and vet students are invaluable in many facets of veterinary medicine – for example, they make up a large proportion of vets working in food safety and public health.
I think it’s important that universities consider an application from every angle and consider the less obvious setbacks brought about by COVID-19 that are perhaps being over-looked. I want the veterinary community to be diverse and self-supporting, and this starts at the very beginning.
Over the past three years, I’ve found one of the hardest parts about revising at home over the holidays isn’t actually the fact you’re revising at home, but that you’re not revising back at university.
Now let me explain, because I know it sounds odd…
Why would anyone not want to go home for the holidays, or right before some hideous, stressful exams? I will admit the food, festivities, time with family and pets is a nice bolster during revision (and certainly doesn’t hurt), but, at the same time, unless you’re fortunate enough to come home to someone studying the same course as you, and also preparing for exams, there’s nobody around you in the same boat.
One for all…
One thing I really miss when I’m at home, nose deep in textbooks, is that sense of camaraderie that comes with tackling the vet course with a group of friends.
Nobody wants to climb Everest alone, and it can be hard when those around you are enjoying time off and eating mince pies while you sit alone in your room, like the Grinch, muttering to yourself about hygiene laws and ethical quandaries of actual mince.
However, it’s not only during exam season that friends are so vital – they keep you company during the best and worst of everything uni has to throw at you. But, around exams, it’s not untrue that misery loves company. That’s not to say you can’t help pick each other up when the going gets tough, but if you’re all in the tough together, the going might not be so bad after all.
…and all for one
Group revision sessions with lots of chocolate, crisps (and maybe a few tears) are a godsend to me after days of seeing nobody but the animals on my flash cards.
Spreading the workload among your friends is also a great way to make revision more manageable – and it’s true when they say teaching is one of the best ways to learn.
I’m so lucky to have the supportive network I do, and to know I’m not in it alone. On such a challenging course, it can easy for things to get on top of you (both academically and mentally), but by working together and leaning on each other, you won’t just survive uni – you’ll nail it!
What will be will be: this mantra is one of a handful of things that kept me sane during university exam season.
Exam stress has definitely taken its toll, and, one week after finishing, I am still none the wiser as to what day it is or whether I’m coming or going – but that’s the price you pay for memorising everything from organ locations to the proportion of “medium” sized chicken eggs in the UK (38.5%, apparently, for those of you who might be curious).
Exams are a trying time for anyone, no matter your degree, or, in fact, your level of education; I remember GCSEs putting me through my paces.
Aftermath
I’ve already written a lot about exams and their stresses. But, right now, I want to address a different kind of stress – a whole new hurdle to jump when really, in all fairness, you just deserve a break – results day.
In truth, no matter how horrendous my exams ever were, nothing ever succeeded in keeping me up at night like results day. Hours and days and weeks of effort, sweat and most likely a few tears, all culminating in what will inevitably feel like a very anticlimactic, but nevertheless staggeringly significant number of digits on a page (not even a physical page at that when you reach university).
It’s a real reminder of how much you must love your course, and, in my case, how much I want to be a vet. After all, there’s no point going through all that, alongside a few weeks of mandatory poop scooping, more affectionately known as extramural studies (EMS) if the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t worth it.
Treat yourself
But enough about exams, what do you do afterwards?
The term “self-care” is thrown around a lot these days, but I think it’s just as important to treat yourself after exams as it is right before and during. What you just did took time and sacrifice, and, however your results turn out – whether they reflect the effort or not – you should still be so proud of that effort.
You deserve that pot of Ben & Jerry’s (or five), that night out with your friends, or night in, slobbing around in your PJs and a face mask, watching all the Netflix you’ve deprived yourself of for the past month.
Have faith
Yes, results day is a scary prospect and not something to forget about completely, but the fact is, once exams are over, you’ve done what you can, and whatever will be will be.
I find this thought rather comforting; although, for others, I know it’s somewhat frustrating. It takes a lot to relinquish control, especially when it’s something you’ve worked so hard for, but it’s important to have faith in yourself and to take the well-earned rest that is the summer holidays.
I’ve talked before about how being a vet student is tough, and how getting into a place on a vet course is maybe tougher still – and I won’t lie to you, the studying, the extra hours put in after school, the weekends (if not weeks) spent knee deep in mud or muck (or a pungent mixture of both) all helped me gain my much-coveted place at university.
But, if I’m being honest, that’s only half of the story…
For every vet student (in fact, any student) who managed to get into university with half the support I had: for you I have the utmost respect.
I think I was around six years old when I first decided to become a vet – and, from that moment on, my family’s unwavering support is probably the main reason I made it.
The unglamorous bits
Looking back, I realise my parents probably put up with a lot more than the average parent would. There’s a necessity to start getting work experience as soon as possible when you’re looking to become a vet – not just to meet course requirements, but to make certain the job is actually for you. University makes it very expensive to change your mind.
Student blogger Eleanor Goad with her “kind and dedicated” mum, Sandra.
I wasn’t lucky enough to live down the road from many farms, so, back before I could drive, my dad drove me to countless placements across the country, with only the occasional grumble about the state I’d leave his car in. It turns out you pick up straw from a farm like sand from a beach and it really does get everywhere.
My mum works as a junior sister on an endoscopy ward, so she’s no stranger to the less glamorous parts of a job, but even she would recoil from the brown patches on my jeans after a day at the dairy – not to mention the stench as I walked through the door.
The emotional bits
Of course, there’s more to support than petrol and laundry. I’ve always been somewhat of a perfectionist and I think this – combined with the pressure of such a long-term dream – made exams, and the course application process in general, a very stressful time.
Through tears and sleepless nights, I always had someone to lean on – and even when I doubted myself, they never did.
They both took valuable time off from full-time jobs to come with me to open days and interviews – and when, last minute, I decided Surrey wasn’t the right fit for me (despite that it was right on our doorstep), my nan gave up her weekend to fly with me to Edinburgh.
On results day, my parents and I crammed together on the sofa, and I think we all screamed (and probably cried) when we learned I’d got in to Bristol.
Unwavering support
With no real animal background to speak of, my parents are undoubtedly a large drive behind why I decided to become a vet. When I was young, all I knew about my mum’s occupation was that she helped people, and that seemed like a pretty good job to have!
They’re both kind and dedicated people, and I think that’s what helps inspire me to work so hard on this course, even when it seems overwhelming. I might be in my second year of vet school, but the support didn’t stop when I walked onto campus; from food and toilet paper supplies to a warm voice on the end of the phone, I know they’ve got my back.
I should probably call home more often than I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not eternally grateful – both for everything they’ve done and continue to do.
Millennials are stereotypically considered lazy, entitled and always wanting something for nothing. And having previously discussed the many advantages of employing new graduates (and, therefore, millennials), this sort of labelling angers me.
The choices our generation makes are not due to lack of work ethic and naiveté about the future, but rather a reflection on the hand we have been dealt by society.
Recent statistics show the average baby boomer had to save for 3 years for an average-sized house deposit in comparison to the predicted 19 years it would take for millennials to do the same. By the age of 30, the number of millennials still renting is double that of their predecessors in “Generation X”.
At my age, my mother owned a house, had her first child (yours truly) and had been married. I can’t even comprehend the possibility of being able to afford one of those things at this stage in my life, let alone all of them.
We may prioritise our meagre disposable income in different ways, but, despite all the jokes, our love of avocados and lattes are not the reason we can’t afford to get on the property ladder. (For the record, I can’t stand avocado).
It is excruciatingly impossible to save enough in today’s financial climate to even consider a house deposit, while pouring money into the unyielding abyss of renting.
One of the biggest snags in the rental black hole is the deposit and associated agency fees. Shortly after leaving university, I had to magic £1,500 out of somewhere to rent a place close to my first job (and that’s a lot when your bank account hasn’t been above zero since you started uni).
Six months after that, I was faced with having to do the same again because I quit that job.
As vets, we bang on about being happy, having a supportive first job and leaving if it’s not right. That’s all very well, but what if you’re trapped financially?
I didn’t give much thought to my financial situation at the time because I was too unhappy to carry on. While I think it was ultimately the right decision for my mental health, I would carefully consider my situation before doing it again – two months of no salary left me in a very vulnerable position, and if it had been much longer, I would have been in serious trouble.
Luckily, I was offered accommodation for my second job, which was an enormous help, taking the burden of having to find a deposit again off my mind. This is one of the benefits of being a vet as a millennial – very few other jobs would offer a house as part of the package.
If you have to repeatedly uproot and keep forking out for rental deposits every time your circumstances change, it’s easy to appreciate how quickly you can find yourself in a mess.
And for me and my classmates, this is while holding down a respectable job with supposedly “good pay” for someone of the same age. But is the pay all that “good”?
Non-vet friends
My non-vet friends earn varying amounts dependent on their careers or jobs, but these certainly include plenty of non-professionals earning far more than me. However, multiple factors need consideration here.
Those who didn’t go to uni have six years of “work experience” and climbing their respective career ladders more than me. Those who did go to uni have a two or three-year head start, which is significant in certain industries.
While it’s understandable they have had more time to progress in the world of work, that doesn’t entirely quieten the resentment at having put so much money, blood, sweat and tears into a professional degree without the remuneration to reflect that.
And while we may have a decent starting salary in comparison to other graduate roles, we are very quickly overtaken.
The ceiling salary of the GP vet is a much-discussed topic, with an increase in salary seen early on, but thereafter very little difference is seen, despite further years of experience. In the current financial climate, the traditional partnership route becomes less and less tangible for the millennial veterinary graduate.
I struggled to be approved for a credit card, and with the very real possibility of never owning a house, I wouldn’t dream of asking for a loan for the kind of money needed to buy into a practice – and I think I’d be laughed out of the bank if I tried.
For my generation, the type of career, and therefore salary progression, is just not what it has been for previous generations.
Enjoy life in present
Perhaps this is why we value work-life balance more than our predecessors – for them, they worked hard in their early careers because there was a light at the end of the tunnel, being partnership.
Many of my millennial colleagues don’t even consider that as a possibility, with many of us not really knowing what we want to do long-term career-wise, and so we take each day as it comes, not just trying to survive, but striving to enjoy life in the present.
It deeply upsets me that vets are still perceived as rich money-grabbers. I am not a rich vet, I’m just a millennial, struggling to make headway in an economy set up to put young people on the back foot.
The difference between me and my desk-bound friends, however, is I have the privilege to do a job that I love, and while it comes with all manner of stress, it’s worth it for being able to care for someone else’s beloved pets.
At the end of the day, though, millennials are all in the same boat – we’re still young adults driving battered cars with bleak property-buying prospects.
We didn’t choose to inherit this situation. We’ve drawn the short straw in the birthdate lottery, so all we can do is live the millennial lifestyle and enjoy our lattes and avocados.
It’s very daunting standing in your first consult as a real, qualified vet – even if it is “just a vaccine”, which invariably turns into “actually, this has happened“, or “now you mention it“, and so on.
But why is it we have that constant feeling of being on edge – more so than a few months previously, when we were still students?
A noticeable shift certainly occurs to being an actual vet, rather than someone who always has a supervisor to have the final say, or take the brunt of the backlash of a mistake.
However, is it the accountability or the responsibility worrying us the most?
Pressing concern
Mistakes are inevitable, but rarely catastrophic. IMAGE: pathdoc/Fotolia.
As soon as we swear the oath enabling us to register as veterinary surgeons in the UK on graduation day, we become accountable to the RCVS.
In the past year, I have witnessed more than one speech telling us a) not to be scared of the college, and b) not nearly as many complaints, disciplinaries or registration removals occur as we think.
Exact figures aside, the take-home message has been: if you don’t knowingly do anything wrong or illegal, the likelihood of serious consequences is very low. You can’t get struck off for making a simple mistake.
The veterinary press, however, seems to over-represent those who are struck off or reprimanded; after all, you never hear about how many vets were not struck off this month or doing their jobs as they should.
Perhaps this is where the unease stems from? And why the RCVS seems so keen to tell us these individuals convicted of misconduct are a very small minority of the profession?
Are new grads really scared of the RCVS?
Talking to my colleagues, the general feeling is we understand we won’t get struck off for making a mistake. However, if the fear has anything to do with our regulatory body, it’s more the confidence knock we would have as a consequence of having a complaint against us made to it.
Of course, an element of worry surrounds being banned from practising as a vet, but I don’t think I would rank it top of the “things to be afraid of as a new graduate” list.
Instead, in that list, I think responsibility carries a greater weight. As students, we were always supervised and, ultimately, the fate of an animal’s life never truly rested in our hands. Any decisions we made were either backed up or steered in the right direction by clinicians.
Now, it’s down to us. Yes – other, more experienced colleagues should be in each practice with whom to discuss cases or reaffirm decisions, but when it comes to the consult room, you’re on your own.
Experience is king
Jordan, pictured during her final-year rotations.
What if I miss a heart murmur? What if miss signs of glaucoma, a pyometra or a lump? The list goes on. What if I could have done more investigations earlier? What if I misdiagnose something and prolong pain because I didn’t prescribe the right treatment first time?
These questions going on in our heads, coupled with a niggling feeling we have forgotten something or misread a dose, are the root of the fear. I believe this is what scares us, more so than the RCVS.
The animals – and us inherently wanting to do our best for them – makes us worry. We worry our lack of experience could be at the expense of an animal’s health – or even their life.
The only way to get past this is to gain that experience to have confidence in our decisions and learn from the mistakes we will, undoubtedly, make.
My mum said to me this week: “This is the only time you’re ever going to feel like this,” and she’s right. (But don’t tell her I said that). Even if we start a new job in the future, we will have a lot more experience under our belts, so shouldn’t, in theory, feel as lost or scared as we do now.
Being a new graduate vet is a unique position for a myriad of reasons and we need to embrace it. The fear that comes with this newly found responsibility will ease with time, and we can take our careers in whichever direction we choose.
So, with less than three weeks until finals, my friends and I have finished rotations. Some of us have had job interviews and some have accepted job offers. This is all getting a bit real…
Supposedly, we’re ready to take on the outside world as real vets. We’ve got heads full of knowledge and hands that have meticulously repeated sutures, catheterisations, and injections to maintain muscle memory. But what we haven’t got is experience.
Sure, we’ve consulted while on rotations and, before that, we had communication skills tutorials, and although these were realistic – with very good actors screaming at you for losing their hypothetical cat out the practice window or bursting into tears as you explain that their dog died under anaesthetic – they just aren’t quite the same.
Gaining experience
Any consultations we have done on rotations have been fairly straightforward, with the vet in the background to interject or, at least, within shouting/pager distance to check anything you’re unsure of.
We have been involved in high stakes situations where things have gone wrong or an animal’s life has depended on the treatment and care we’ve contributed to – and as much as rotations are aimed at making you think and make your own decisions, you’re always steered in the right direction, or someone intervenes before you do something momentously stupid.
We may feel like we’re carrying a good deal of responsibility at times but, at the end of the day, it hasn’t been our necks on the line.
And what about money? A lot of our consulting in final year is done at charity clinics, where the treatment is often free or very cheap. This means treatment options are much more limited, so you learn how to approach things on a budget, but you never really have to have that conversation with the owner as such.
Any consults done at the university’s small animal hospital are referrals – many of which are long-standing patients coming in for rechecks, so the owners have already been dealing with the insurance or have sorted payment with the reception staff.
We are assigned a number of tasks throughout final year that make us consider cost, such as discussing the costs of anaesthesia and treatment options for certain conditions, or pricing farm visits in first opinion practice. But again, it isn’t really us, the students, making the final decisions based on the client’s budget.
In at the deep end
So we’ve got the veterinary science bit nailed (well, hopefully – finals pending). But going into that first day as a qualified vet is going to be nerve-wracking for everyone, and that’s when the education will really begin. That’s where we will learn the things no one can really teach you, nor can you pick up until you are the vet making the final decisions – your neck on the line.
No one can teach you how to hold your tongue when the client opposite you is being completely irrational, or how to keep your composure when another breaks down in tears over the death of a pet, which you are really quite emotionally invested in too.
Having the internal battle with yourself over what the ideal diagnostic or treatment protocol would be, versus what is realistically affordable, becomes something of an art – there’s no formula or calculation to work out the best approach. As for actually having the responsibility on your own shoulders, and not falling apart when things go wrong, that takes resilience.
These are all things that will come with experience. It will be a steep learning curve, I’m sure, but essential if we’re to embark on the journey of life after vet school and master the art of veterinary medicine.
It is estimated only 8% of people succeed in achieving or keeping their new year’s resolution (so the odds are against you), but if you feel this is your year to make a difference, why not incorporate your four-legged friend into that lifestyle change?
Fat cats and dumpy dogs
A lot of resolutions will be along the lines of trying to lose weight or get fitter, and while the human population has a weight problem, obesity is also rife in the UK pet population.
Headlines and statistics are forever telling us our pets are overweight, and my parents are sick of me enforcing a diet every time I go home to find my cats a little rounder than a few months previously. However, it wasn’t until I spent a few days consulting in first opinion small animal practice, as part of one of our final year rotations, that the problem really hit me.
I’m used to seeing overweight pets in the consult room while on placement with other vets and I’ve witnessed the weight loss conversation more times than I can count. But on one particular morning, when I had similar conversations myself with four out of five clients, I saw the future of my veterinary career flash before me: overweight dog after overweight dog coming through the door.
Cruel is the new kind
Despite sounding like a broken record, I can only hope my words did not fall on deaf ears. So many owners didn’t even realise their animals were overweight – “that’s just his shape”. And yet others are fully aware, but just can’t ignore their pets’ begging.
Why not substitute pet treats with a healthy alternative such as carrots, Jordan suggests.
Unfortunately, sometimes you have to be “cruel to be kind” and ignore those big round eyes that are trying to melt your heart – your dog will be better off long term being denied those extra treats, but having a healthier lifestyle.
If you think your pet may be on the larger side of normal, vets will often run free weight clinics with the veterinary nurses to allow accurate monitoring and adjustment to diet and exercise.
Everyday changes
General advice would be to cut down on meal sizes and cut out treats, or at least substitute them with a healthy alternative such as carrots. Exercise should be determined on an individual basis, dependent on any existing health conditions (such as joint problems), breed and lifestyle.
There may be a medical reason for retaining weight, so if the aforementioned doesn’t seem to be working, seek veterinary advice.
This new year, even if you can’t keep your own resolution, why not make one for your pet and help them achieve the lifestyle they deserve? Or if you’re trying to lose weight or gain fitness yourself, why don’t you and your pet do it together?
The process is quick – 10 to 20 seconds
Supposedly, we’re ready to take on the outside world as real vets. We’ve got heads full of knowledge and hands that have meticulously repeated sutures, catheterisations, and injections to maintain muscle memory. But what we haven’t got is experience.
