I am going to tell you a little story about Burek. The story is about my first experiences and interaction with a vet, and it wasn't a happy one. Memorable, but not happy.
Burek was my dog when I was growing up. He died in 1990, when he was 17 years old. I make no secret that he is a big part of the kind of vet that I am.
I got him when I was just six years old. I remember the day he came into my family. My Uncle John (Jan) knew I wanted a puppy (desperately). My mother was adamant that we were not having one at all. My young brain didn't comprehend that we couldn't afford a pet. So my Uncle, brought this one home for me anyway (as Uncles do). My father fell in love with him, and called him Burek. My mother, well... not a happy Mummy!
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| My Dog Burek... on holiday with us at Ulladulla. |
When I was about 9, Burek hurt his back leg (he was about 3 or 4 at the time). He was not using it for a week. I cried, as I knew he needed to see a vet.
My parents couldn't afford it. I demanded (as 9 year olds do) my birthday and Christmas present be a vet check for my dog. I was a very petulant child. Absolutely, a brat! And I got that vet check.
I remember, standing in the back room of this veterinary hospital, with the vet and my mother. My mother, as a "New Australian, comprehended what he was saying, but with her strong accent, he struggled to understand her. I couldn't stop crying. My dog had a broken bone in his ankle, and it needed surgery or he needed to be euthenased. Those were the choices given to us. It cost $60 for an xray for my dog. It was going to cost about $600 to fix the leg.
And it had to be my mother who was there, with me, not my father (who loved the dog as much as I). And, we were poor. Desperately poor. My clothes were from the op shop (if I was lucky), or from the suitcase that was left behind from the previous owners of our house (my parents bought a deceased estate with all the stuff left behind)... the food we grew in the backyard, or killed (chickens) or my mum used to dig out of the bins at Westfield Figtree. Yes, we were that poor. I remember that clearly. When you are that poor, you don't forget. So $60 was a big deal. And $600.... well, impossible.
Why am I telling you this story? Read on, and you will see.
Obviously, it wasn't looking like a great birthday after all. I was in absolute tears. I had demanded my dog see a vet, and he was going to end up dead as a result of it. You'll remember I mentioned earlier that he died when he was 17, so he obviously was not euthenased then.
As I've mentioned, my Dad loved Burek, and would not have him euthenased. My mother, well, she loved my Dad and I, so she put up with it. Burek came home and my father wrapped a bandage on his leg. I remember the vet's comment being that we have doomed our dog to ongoing pain and suffering. And as a 9 year old, I was in tears at that thought.
Each few days, my Dad would change that bandage, and we would keep Burek still. My Dad would lovingly massage that leg, and maintain Burek's muscle mass. Anyone who knew my Dad, would know that he loved his massage gizmos.
By the sixth week, Burek was starting to place weight on that leg, and by 8 weeks, he was normal.
As I've mentioned, there are times when you need to see a vet, and there are times when you can do it yourself. But we needed to see the vet to actually know what the problem was, and what our options were. In this situation, that vet gave us only two options, neither of which we could do. If only he was prepared to work with us, or help us, even if it was a "less than ideal" solution to the problem.
Without the vet, we would never have know what was wrong with Burek's leg. And without my father's common sense and animal expertise, Burek's leg would never have healed as well as it did.
This is not exactly the perfect harmony between vet and owner. But as a result of this, my first real interaction with a vet, it has made me into the vet I am today. I think you will agree that Burek deserved better than he got that day in the veterinary hospital, and he deserved better from my parents too - it shouldn't have taken a 9 year old having a temper tantrum for her dog to see a vet.
Perhaps you are wondering if I am anything like that vet from many years ago? I hope not. But he did leave a very strong, very lasting impression on me. From him, I learnt how it felt to be on the receiving end of an uncaring, unempathetic vet (as I perceived him through 9 year old eyes) And I vowed never to do that with my own pets and their owners.
But from this situation, I also learned a lesson that having a pet is a financial responsibility, not just an emotional one. And it is something that all pet owners need to remember too.
What is the point I am trying to make? That vets and owners need to work together to look after the animals of the world. That we need to appreciate and understand our individual strengths and weaknesses, as that is what our pets deserve... the very best in care. Our pets deserve vets.
