April
2005
Do
No Harm
By Holly Cheever, DVM
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Like most veterinarians, I chose to attend veterinary
school because of my deep love for animals. In addition, I am preceded
by five generations
of surgeons in my family and have been given a sense that life should
be spent caring for and serving others. Veterinary medicine gave me
the perfect profession to combine my interests, aptitudes, and philosophies.
However, I was troubled by my courses in surgery because, at that time,
there were no alternatives for students with ethical concerns, nor
would Cornell’s School of Veterinary Medicine allow us to rescue
the animals used in surgical training—their euthanasia at the
end of the surgical exercise was inevitable. I found this deeply disturbing,
conflicting with the most basic tenet of all medical practice: primum
non nocere—first, do no harm.
Although I could not control the fates of the animals in my veterinary
curriculum, I did have some control over the fortune of those animals
coming to me for care
once I was in practice. I eschewed unnecessary procedures—cat declawing,
canine ear crops and tail docks, dehorning cattle without anesthesia—that
were cruel and not in the best interests of the patient. This approach caused
some degree of tension with my first employer, but he assumed I would “outgrow” these
philosophical oddities as I developed my practical skills. My dairy clients were
initially skeptical of the added cost of giving calves local anesthetic nerve
blocks before I dehorned them, but they quickly came to appreciate the lowered
stress levels in their calves and the more professional manner in which the dehorning
process was performed.
Upon moving to the Albany area, I joined a small animal hospital that handled
all species of companion animals and wildlife. There I had the good fortune to
find an employer who was sympathetic to my practice standards and placed no limitations
on what I felt to be essential tenets of veterinary care. I was given free rein
to advise human guardians on care options that would best serve their companion
animals’ interests. As I continued to mature in my profession, my practice
philosophy became more focused and reaffirmed.
In addition to doing a thorough physical examination and vaccination with a puppy’s
or kitten’s first visit, I discuss with the guardian what constitutes the
best care for their new companion. I am very firm about spaying and neutering,
pointing out the health and behavioral benefits for dogs and cats, and (tactfully)
try to dissuade them from their proud-parent desire for future babies. If they’re
enamored of a breed, I suggest that they look into breed rescue or into local
fostering agencies for a similar type of dog or cat, rather than add to the overpopulation
problem. If their pup comes from a pet store, I find a tactful time and manner
to break the news about the puppy mills they are supporting, and offer to help
them find a dog in the future that will avoid contributing to this cruelty. Unfortunately,
no matter how gentle I try to be in these conversations, many guardians are angered
by my “sermonizing”—understandably, perhaps, since they suddenly
feel a twinge of guilt conflicting with the joy and pride they felt one minute
earlier. Some clients choose to see only my associates from then on, while others
are able to understand that my motivation was laudable, even if the message burst
their happy bubble, and they tease me about it as our relationship develops over
time.
Ear cropping and tail docking are not an option in our practice. If a pup comes
to me with ears already mutilated, I tell the guardians—as gently as I
can—that this procedure is outlawed in the United Kingdom and the European
Union on the grounds that it is unspeakably cruel and interferes with the dog’s
intra-species communication skills. If their dog is reluctant to have his/her
ears handled with maturity, the guardians know it’s due to the ear cropping,
and they usually tell me that they’ll never do it again. Amen.
With cats, I recommend that they be kept inside and mention the American Bird
Conservancy’s campaign (“Cats Indoors”) and provide literature
with ways to make your indoor cat happy and well-entertained. If there is an
interest in declawing, I ask them to try training, provide optimal scratching
posts, or use “sticky paws” scratch control strips for furniture
to keep their home unscathed. If they remain unconvinced, I discuss what the
procedure entails, namely the amputation of ten kitty toes, and remind them about
the phenomenon of phantom pain which is a common consequence of human limb amputation.
I mention an alternate approach, digital tendonectomy—the cats get to keep
their claws but cannot set them in the destructive scratching/marking mode—which
is much less painful and is not disfiguring. To me, declawing is simply punishing
a cat for being a cat, and (like canine cosmetic surgery) is outlawed in the
UK and EU. If the client simply will not consider leaving those kitty toes intact,
I refer them to my two associates who will perform these procedures. I never
have and never will, but also recognize that my refusal to declaw a cat could
result in that cat losing their home. I personally do not feel that I have done
the cat a favor if my philosophical obstinacy has resulted in that cat’s
being ejected from an otherwise loving family.
Overall, having “Dr. Holly” care for a companion animal opens the
door to a plethora of advice, both requested and not. Although my opinionated
slant on veterinary medicine has cost me a few human clients over the years,
it has earned me a far greater number who are delighted that their veterinarian
rates their companion’s welfare so highly. Truth be told, I am willing
to lose business rather than compromise the all-important well-being of their
beloved companion. If they see my diligent letters to the local newspaper editor
about an upcoming circus or some barbaric hunting regulation, they proudly tell
friends that their veterinarian really fights for animal welfare and they are
grateful to have me. After all, the word “doctor” means teacher in
Latin, and I see my role as teaching the human part of the equation to be the
best caregiver possible to their nonhuman friend.
In addition to her private practice, Dr. Holly Cheever presents programs to students
on environmental and animal advocacy issues. She has won awards for animal protection
from the New York State Troopers, the Humane Society of the United States, and
was named Veterinarian of the Year by the New York State Humane Association in
1991.
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