In case I wasn’t 100% clear about this point in my first post in this series, let me repeat it: Microchips are an indispensable part of any pet owner’s safety protocol. Time and again, studies have confirmed that ID tags alone are not enough. An indelible mark of ownership is often required to reunite non-speaking family members with their human counterparts. And microchip technology has thus far offered the best solution to this problem.  

Regrettably, however, microchips are far from perfect ...

All my pets are microchipped. As a veterinarian, it would be unthinkable for me to deprive my pets of this extra measure of security. But I also believe, just as devoutly, that the US microchip system is now and has always been, by design, a broken thing –– a bedraggled and limping hydra crafted to benefit its many squabbling corporate heads more than the pets it claims to serve. 

Veterinarians lie. All the time. In lots of ways. We don’t necessarily mean to –– except when we sometimes we do. But does this make us bad people? Bad doctors? Read on before making up your mind. 

Last week a young Belgian malinois named Wix died in a manner dreadfully unbefitting his status as a highly trained K-9 officer –– in a hot squad car. While his partner handled a special assignment at a PGA event in Wisconsin, the cruiser’s AC unit failed. Wix’s in-car heat alarm, a backup safety feature, reportedly malfunctioned as well.

Last week I euthanized a patient in his back yard. This kind of experience always presents an emotional struggle but this one proved especially gut wrenching for a couple of reasons. A) The patient was a young cat dying of FIP. B) For the last two years my patient had served as an emotional service pet for a severely autistic boy. 

Under such agonizing circumstances, who wouldn’t cry? 

If you’ve got a dog with skin disease you’ve probably heard of a new drug called Apoquel. Manufactured and marketed by behemoth veterinary drug manufacturer, Zoetis, this drug has been a frequent source of frustration for veterinarians. Ever since the spring of the year it debuted (2014), it’s been on short supply. What’s more, it shows no signs of meeting demand anytime soon (for years, possibly).

Why is it that certain media personalities –– rock stars, actors and heiress types –– often take it upon themselves to make blanket proclamations about vaccines? 

I guess it’s the California thing. This state’s vaccination standards are the newest under attack by those who believe that the state’s leadership is “facist” and “corrupt” for mandating vaccination compliance before children can enter the public school system. 

Earlier this summer we traded ten hot days in Florida, where we live, for ten balmy days in Hawaii. Poor me, right? We surfed (a generous description of my attempts), paddled with the wildlife, rode horses in the upcountry, and ate a whole lot of local barbecue. It was a success! 

Along the way, however, we noted several disquieting similarities with our own backyard paradise. Tourism, it would seem, is the same all over. At least when it comes to animals. 

Have you always admired the fierce determination and pure devotion of a serious working dog? Whether it’s the indefatigable loyalty of a “seeing eye” dog, the sloppy-eared devotion of a search and rescue hound, or the intensity of a Belgian malinois on the beat, working dogs in action are a glory to behold.

I’m clearly not the only devotee. Otherwise, why would the movie Max exist? 

The moral dilemmas in veterinary medicine are endless. Given their ubiquity, is it any wonder I’m often asked this slightly indiscreet question: “What would you do if you were in my shoes?" Or even more pointedly, "How would you treat her if she were yours?”