Disease is one of the realest forms of the human-animal bond

photograph provided by Jasper Wilde

Disease comes from the old French word desaise meaning ‘lack of ease.’ In other words, the noticeable presence of pain, anxiety, concern, depravity, and as health professionals most commonly see it – illness. Illness - whether you define it as a malfunctioning organ, part of an organ, a specific body structure, or single body system - is caused by myriad stressors ranging from genetic mix-ups, to infectious microorganisms, to toxins, to bad nutrition, and to environmental imbalance. Regardless of the etiology and overall effect of disease, disease is seen in all forms of human, animal, and environmental life. One could even say computers plagued with a virus are diseased. 

However you choose to see it, disease connects all life on Earth. We all learn about it, we all see it, we all question it, we all try to manage it, we will all experience it, and at some point in our lives we will die from it. It may be difficult to fully accept, sure, but disease is normal. No matter how bad it can be, it is a natural part of life. No matter how much sadness, grief, and discomfort it may cause it is still a normal part of existence and it is not going anywhere. 

The normalcy of disease, to me, is made apparent when others share the load of disease together, but not in the sense of one person showing empathy towards another person with disease while not having that disease as well. I am talking about a much stronger connection, one that is created when two people have the same disease. Even further, when an animal and their human caretaker share the same disease, it seems much of the pain, anxiety, concern, and depravity is assuaged just enough so that life can be enjoyed. Although both experience “lack of ease” they are taking care of one another and finding comfort in their shared experience.    

As a veterinary student I have seen this sharing of disease, this special connection, between owners and their pets. I have met owners and their pets who have shared salmonella and E. coli infections. I have discussed diabetes management for a cat whose owner, too, was a diabetic. I have explained the process of cervical disc herniation in a dog whose owner suffered the same injury two years prior. I have spoken about degenerative myelopathy in dogs with an owner whose daughter was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I have met owners whose pets and family members have cancer.  

These experiences were humbling, and I am simply passing them on in writing as food for thought. Disease causes heartache, pain, confusion, and anything else you would like to fill in to finish this sentence. But it seems, after listening to and observing these scenarios and others like them in the hospital and clinic, being able to share the effects of disease engenders an understanding that leads to acceptance. And it is thisacceptance of disease that brings a comfort modern medicine cannot provide.   

Think about this idea the next time you are in an appointment, talking with peers about a case, or in the middle of a phone consult. Share your experiences with others and let me know. I am interested to hear your thoughts.

Veterinary Medicine and Global Volunteerism – like using a toothbrush to fix a space station

photograph courtesy of Kai Dahms

Back in 2012 a pair of astronauts aboard the International Space Station were tasked with the mission of repairing a key power system that provided energy to the station. To do this they needed to remove some bolts, fix the internal system, and then replace those bolts. Relatively easy in the deep void of outer space with intense genome-distorting UV rays, no oxygen, and zero gravity, right? But, putting all the inherent life-threatening risks of space work aside, these were the least of their worries because there were metal shavings in one of the bolt holes. The bolt was stuck. The internal system could not be repaired. The mission was at a standstill and the station was soon-to-be powerless. 

But thank goodness for human ingenuity and a toothbrush! The metal shavings were brushed out, the bolts removed, and the station’s power restored within 6 hours. Such a simple solution with a profound impact that helped many. 

This idea of a simple fix with great end results is also seen in global volunteerism and veterinary medicine. There are many parallels that can be drawn between providing basic high-quality veterinary care to underserved communities around the world and fixing a space station with a toothbrush. Both actions require a great deal of skill acquired only through years of training, learning, and repetition. They also involve focus, internal motivation, ingenuity, and good intention. With good intention comes benefit to the greater good, and it is this benefit that proves necessity.  

Albeit much less risky and life-endangering; visiting a different country, interacting with people of diverse cultures, fumbling with unique languages, and practicing veterinary medicine without fancy tools and diagnostics is important for other reasons, aside from benefiting the greater good, as well: 

 1.     It presents you with a unique opportunity for professional and personal growth.  

2.     It allows you to apply what you learn, in class and on clinics, to real world problems.

3.     It pushes you out of your comfort zone and normal routine. 

4.     It inspires you (cliché, but true!).

5.     It really does help others, even if you do not immediately notice results.

Long story short, whether it be fixing the International Space Station with a toothbrush or explaining the physiology of heartworm disease to native Hondurans on a volunteer trip both make you uncomfortable (and thus, better), both are important, bother are needed, and both make the world a better place than it was the day before. Again, global volunteerism in veterinary medicine is all about providing simple solutions that have profound impacts. 

So, get out there and find your toothbrush. Challenge yourself and make a difference. Maybe even become a veterinarian in space (they do exist!). 

Are we, as veterinarians, perpetuating animal suffering?

Photograph provided by Allison Cochrane

In the Amazon rainforest, macaws and countless other highly intelligent species of birds exhibit advanced social skills, develop problem solving abilities, form tightly-knit family bonds, and according to recent research even develop regional dialects only understood by individuals in a specific area. You could say they’re just like us – social, complex creatures with a wide range of emotions and behaviors that are influenced by their environment. 

But all of this is stifled and traded in for compulsive feather plucking disorders, depression, isolation, and heart disease when they’re taken out of their trees, away from their families, and confined to cages in our homes, our pet stores, and our zoos throughout the world. 

This is not to say most veterinarians, zookeepers, and owners are inadequate caretakers who fail to provide these birds with the proper care, enrichment, socialization, and environment allowing them to exercise these complex behaviors. Most have the utmost appreciation and respect for these amazing creatures. But housing them alone in a cage at home with standard care or in a large exhibit with other conspecifics with what is deemed appropriate “enrichment” is not the same as living, without boundaries, in a tropical rainforest in which they can fly up to 50 miles a day. In the Amazon, where evolution destined these birds to be, they can freely develop their personalities, learn language, solve problems, and form life-long bonds with others of their kind. 

With this, we are faced with a question that is often overlooked, rarely asked, and desperately needs more consideration. By providing veterinary care for these socially complex and intelligent individuals, are we, as veterinarians, perpetuating the mindset that it is OK to keep these birds as pets or part of a zoo collection? Furthermore, are we transferring this mindset to other equally as complex, social, and even endangered animals as well? 

What do you think? 

How scientists and veterinarians risk their lives conserving endangered species.

photograph provided by Max Gotts

The narrative of endangered species conservation is a long one. As the human population rises and the trees fall, wild animals are forced to flee their natural homes to smaller plots of land surrounded by highways, homes, and chained-link fences. The monotonous modern hum of human society has been slowly creeping across the surface of the planet - silencing all chirping, croaking, and purring. 

But this is not to say institutional improvements haven’t been made for the betterment of animal welfare and the care of the remaining wild places. As time moves forward, we are getting smarter, becoming more aware, and inaugurating very creative and extremely effective strategies to save the animals and habitats we endangered in the first place. 

An entire series of posts can be dedicated to everything we’ve done (and still have yet to do) for the protection of endangered species and their wild lands - the list of approaches and policies is exhaustive. But the purpose of this post is to laud the incredible work done by field scientists and veterinarians in protecting endangered species and preserving their unique homes. Below is a description of a single event that highlights the danger field scientists and veterinarians face when pursuing their goals of species conservation. These events, I’m sure, occur every day, in every country, throughout the world, at any given moment. 

Researchers at the Kanahau Utila Research and Conservation Facility (KRCF) on the small, tropical island of Utila, Honduras were out on field surveys tracking and tagging endangered Spiny-tailed iguanas (Ctenosaura bakeri), or Swampers, known by the locals. These iguanas are endemic to the island (they only exist there!) and their survival is threatened daily by population expansion, the tourism industry, mangrove habitat loss, plastic pollution, and predation (by humans, invasive raccoons, and domestic cats brought from the mainland). The goal of KRCF is to document Swamper population levels, educate locals and visitors about their ecology, and ultimately save the swamper. They also placed camera traps throughout remote parts of the island to record animal behavior and anything that would walk through the frame.

While out on survey one day they came across a camera trap, shattered and broken, years of valuable footage lost. Given what was found in the debris nearby, a bullet, they suspect poachers may have destroyed the camera after unknowingly walking into the frame and setting off the recording. Who knows what they could have been doing. 

And the bullet, stamped with the mark we know all too well - USA.

This story sheds light on the risk scientists and veterinarians take, every day, when working to save endangered species and the environments in which they live. Although this is a singular event involving one small research team on a tiny island with one species, events such as these are occurring on even larger scales with multiple species across political borders involving thousands of organizations and groups. 

And the bullet made in the USA being used by poachers, or perhaps drug runners, in the swamps of an island off the coast of Honduras? That’s an entirely separate issue in itself.