Tooth Marks

Once, while tramping around the dry hills of eastern San Diego, I almost stepped on a snake and instead of identifying it's species first, I immediately grabbed it by the tail and flung it down the hill. Not so smart in a county with four different kinds of rattlesnake. I watched too much Crocodile Hunter as a kid. But as it turned out, I didn't get bit and my friends were highly impressed. Which meant I came away having learned exactly the wrong lesson. I sincerely hope the snake was okay.

Unfortunately, this amateurish confidence took a while to fade. I got into way too many close calls. I've swam across great white shark-infested waters. I've had to dive out of the way of charging herds of cattle and horses careening downwards from anesthesia. I've taken two hooves to the solar plexus. I've been struck at by a pit viper, nearly gonadectomized by a bull sea lion, and not-so-nearly eviscerated by a cassowary.¹

Not to mention the innumerable dogs, cats, and other pets who have taken their shots. A third of veterinarians in one survey reported a severe, animal-induced injury at some point in their career. I got unlucky/lucky once with a 75-pound dog who suddenly had all four of his canine teeth on my face as I unwittingly palpated his sore shoulder. Somehow, he missed anything important.

As an animal professional, you develop a literal "animal sense". It can serve you pretty well, sort of like how a good poker player can read a table. You assess an animal's behavior, consider your options for controlling a situation, and make a judgement call. Go on instinct. Sometimes that means plopping on your cowboy hat and yelling Wahoo! before going all in. But sometimes you get blindsided. Sometimes you bet wrong.

If you're lucky, it's just a close call.

I know more than a few veterinary professional with facial scars. But we're such a self-critical group that for some reason we still balk at taking precautions. We hesitate to ask for a muzzle. We don't want to appear "harsh". We want to believe in the power of our animal sense. I certainly feel a pang of guilt when I reach for the injectable sedation after a client says their pet "never bites". Okay, but I don't expect you to look down the barrel of a gun that I just casually told you isn't loaded. Is that hard to understand?

I'm not taking chances. I have a few minor scars, nothing that's needed disability insurance to get involved. I'd love to keep it that way. I ain't messin' around. Is a tiger vet is "harsh" if she darts the tiger? Nope.

I understand and in some ways admire those who still work off of "feel". I've been there, and it's exhilarating to take risks. But I've come to accept a more cautious approach. Who wants to get their adrenaline rush from an oral exam on a terrified German shepherd when I have a family to feed and plenty of cheap dexmedetomidine? Animal sense is a remarkable skill, one that I have tremendous respect for, but it wasn't enough to save even The Crocodile Hunter himself.

R.I.P. Steve.

1. I will get to all these stories some time. The cassowary's been done.