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Rebecca Farrar was just 4 years old when she became seriously ill and was diagnosed with diabetes. Today, as a Type 1 diabetic, 9-year-old Rebecca’s blood sugar can drop without warning, putting her at risk of hypoglycemia, which can lead to a coma or even death. Often, Rebecca doesn’t realize her blood sugar is dropping, but someone else does: her yellow Labrador, Shirley.
Dogs have provided assistance for people with physical and mental disabilities for decades, but in recent years researchers have discovered that canines can also detect illness in humans. With a sense of smell 100,000 times more sensitive than ours, dogs have sniffed out many things, including cancer and dips in glucose levels.
Originally, Rebecca’s dog was being trained in the U.K. as a seeing-eye dog, but she had to replaced because she didn’t like her harness. However, her diabetic owner had noticed that she always licked his hand before he became hypoglycemic, so Shirley was retrained as a diabetic alert dog.
Today, Shirley licks Rebecca’s hand when her blood sugar begins to drop. If Rebecca doesn’t respond, the dog will get the attention of another family member, often bringing Rebecca’s sugar-testing kit with her.
Almost 350 million people have diabetes worldwide, according to the World Health Organization. However, it can be difficult for Type 1 diabetics – many who have lived with fluctuating blood sugar levels all their lives – to tell when their blood sugar is out of balance. The early warning that a dog can provide can save their lives.
Dan Warren, a Type 1 diabetic and retired U.S. Marine who used to train bomb-sniffing dogs, runs Warren Retrievers, an organization located in Orange, Va., that trains diabetic alert dogs. His dogs learn to warn diabetics of potential problems, to retrieve shot kits and food, and even to call 911 in an emergency.
He says that dogs can detect the onset of seizures 20 minutes or more in advance and can sense blood-sugar fluctuations up to 45 minutes beforehand.
“In a glass of iced tea, we can smell a teaspoon of sugar,” Warren told the Gaston Gazette. “Dogs could smell that teaspoon of sugar in an Olympic-size swimming pool.”
Warren attributes these abilities to dogs’ powerful sense of smell, an idea medical professionals say is plausible.
“They can see and smell all sorts of things we don’t,” Dr. Lawrence Myers, an expert in canine scent detection at Auburn University College of Veterinary Medicine, told WebMD. However, he says there’s “a lack of reliable data that confirms that they are doing that, and doing that reliably.”
Despite the lack of conclusive scientific evidence, Robby and Melissa Putnam say that their diabetic son’s dog, Scout, gives them peace of mind.
One in 20 Type 1 diabetics die in their sleep after blood glucose plummets, so 12-year-old Josh Putnam gets up at 3 a.m. every day to check his blood sugar levels.
“Scout is a huge relief,” Josh’s mom, Melissa, told the Gaston Gazette. “You look down and see that she’s nice and calm. You know he’s good.”
Your friend’s pet just passed away, and she’s devastated. While you know it’s a sad time, you may not be able to grasp the emotional turmoil she’s experiencing if you’ve never owned a pet. “Pet parents are made to feel guilty when their grief is more extreme than it would be for a human being,” says Coleen Ellis, founder of Two Hearts Pet Loss Center. But a recent survey shows that 91% of pet owners think of their companion animals as family. For your friend, that means losing her little one is like losing a spouse, child, sibling or parent. And that’s why you should avoid making these nine hurtful comments.
1. “It was just an animal.”
After her 12-year-old dalmatian died, Teresa Henderson of Dallas, TX, was crushed when her mother-in-law implied he wasn’t family. “Buster was there for us every day,” she says. Minimizing the loss is one of the worst things you can do, says Stephanie LaFarge, PhD, senior director of counseling services at the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA). “Let the owner know that you respect the grief she’s feeling,” recommends Dr. LaFarge. Show your support by sending a card or donating to a local shelter in the pet’s name.
2. “You can always get another one.”
“I was surprised that people told me to replace Mystery right away,” says Madison, WI, native Niki Young, whose 13-year-old husky-lab mix passed away last year. “I needed time to reflect on our relationship.” You may think getting a new pet will make your friend feel better, but owners often aren’t emotionally or financially prepared to welcome another animal, says Marty Becker, DVM, a featured columnist at VetStreet.com. “Don’t bring up the subject until she starts hinting that she’s ready,” he advises.
3. “You knew his life would be short.”
When a person first picks up her new puppy or kitten, the last thing on her mind is the number of years they’ll have together. “Sometimes people just fall in love and don’t think about the animal’s lifespan,” says Dr. Becker. Besides, that short life lasts many years, which is long enough for an owner to be quite upset when her beloved buddy dies. Reminding a friend of the pet’s limited years “won’t change the emotional response she has,” says Dr. LaFarge. “It’s better to empathize with her and not try to talk her out of her grief.”
4. “You’ll have so much free time now that he’s gone.”
You may mean well, but pointing out the positive aspects of the pet’s absence can come off as insensitive. “That comment emphasized the fact that Mystery wasn’t around and I missed her a lot,” says Niki. A major no-no: reminding your friend that she’ll be free to go on vacation. “It may be true, but it’s painful because it’s part of the loss,” says Dr. LaFarge. Focus instead on the special relationship she shared with her pet.
5. “I can’t believe how much you spent on treatment.”
It’s never a good idea to question how much or even how little your friend put into treatment for her terminally ill pet, especially after the death. Some people may spend all their savings to hold on to their cuddly lifeline. Others can’t afford certain procedures. “You don’t want her to feel guilty for whatever decision she made,” says Dr. Becker. Think of it this way: You wouldn’t criticize how she pays for her car or home, so don’t comment on how she funded her pet’s healthcare.
6. “That breed always has problems. Don’t get another one.”
For some pet parents, a particular breed holds sentimental value. “Many people grow up with a favorite family pet and become attached to that breed,” explains Dr. Becker. “The animal is a way to pay tribute to family.” Though you shouldn’t totally ignore your concerns about a certain breed’s health problems, never give your friend an ultimatum about what kind of pet she should get next. “You can caution her against making that choice, but don’t add that she shouldn’t get another one,” says Dr. LaFarge.
7. “Why do you still have those toys?”
When her nine-year-old boxer began battling pancreatitis, Teresa was hurt when a friend called her out for holding onto her baby’s treasures. “She made it seem like the toys weren’t a big deal,” she says. “It felt callous.” Even though the toys may seem useless to you, owners will hold on to their animals’ keepsakes for years. “Those things are like totems,” says Dr. Becker. “Some people will leave out the food bowl or bed as a memorial to that pet.” If you can’t think of anything positive to say, avoid talking about the animal’s belongings.
8. “I can’t believe you’d keep the remains in your living room!”
Regardless of how crazy it might seem to you, having an urn on display is your friend’s way of remembering the life of her furry comrade. If she feels like you’re shaming her decision, she may hide her feelings from you completely. “Pet parents are forced to second-guess how their actions will be perceived by others,” says Ellis. Instead of letting your friend mourn alone, listen to what she plans to do without passing judgment.
9. “Why is it taking you so long to get over this?”
After having a loyal and loving animal by your side day and night, it can be extremely trying as an owner to cope with the death. “Even the most put-together person can spend years getting over the loss,” says Dr. Becker. Steer clear of chiding your friend about moving back to reality and acknowledge the hardship she’s experiencing. “Honor her story by asking about the pet and letting her share,” suggests Ellis. Showing that you understand the loss’s significance is the most important thing.
NEW YORK(CBSNewYork) — The loss of a pet can be a devastating experience, and a rising number of people are treating that loss the same way that they would treat the death of any other family member.
David Le told CBS 2′s Kristine Johnson that his dog was treated like a member of his family for her entire life.
“I miss her so much, she was my best friend. She always slept with me,” he said. “She was a daughter to me.”
Le is giving his French Bulldog Zoey the same attention in death that she gave him in life. He told CBS 2 that a backyard burial wouldn’t be good enough for her.
Zoey received a sendoff complete with a casket, mourners, flowers, and a graveside service.
Full-fledged pet funerals like Zoey’s are gaining popularity, according to pet loss workers.
“In one year’s time we have increased our business here over nine-hundred percent,” said Lisa West of the Pet Loss Center.
At Lisa West’s Pet Loss Center, grief counselors guide the bereaved through the process of making arrangements for their deceased pets.
Open casket viewings, burials, cremation and even religious beliefs are all included as a way to add a personal touch.
“People love their pets and they really want to take care of them through their life process,” said West.
Bereaved pet owners are often willing to pay high prices to say goodbye to their animals.
Maira Elena Lovell has spent nearly $7,000 on funerals for her dogs.
“They deserve to live and die with dignity,” she said.
Lovell wants to visit her dogs the same way she would visit any relative who has passed away.
Le told CBS 2 that spending $2,000 on a dog funeral may seem excessive to some people, but for him, it has provided closure.
“The only way I could be peaceful from it was to have a proper burial,” he said.
Bereaved pet owners who are willing to pay such high prices to say goodbye to their loved ones may also want the peace-of-mind to know that they are dealing with a reputable broker.
The Association For Pet Loss And Bereavement helps pet owners make sure that the company they are dealing with is a certified group.
Would you hold a funeral for your pet? Let us know in our comments section below…
He weighed eight pounds. He had little ability to learn much. In fact he actually never learned how to play. He was with us a short time; just a year and a half, and on Thursday last he died.
His name was Baxter Van Beck, and he was a very small little tiny dog who changed our lives, all for the good. Playing was not on his radar screen, and probably with very good cause – the little dog had lived the first two years of his life locked away in a cage, and was thankfully rescued by some mighty kind people who discovered him lost and alone, abandoned in the backwoods of lower Alabama.
We saw Baxter on the internet, and when we were all introduced we brought Baxter home the same day.
I thought I would try to teach him a few lessons. I tried to toss a ball in our yard with the high hopes of bonding with him, but he just sat and stared at me and did nothing. Actually he looked at me like I had lost my mind. Baxter never learned how to chase a ball, let alone bring it back.
Truth is, Baxter did not bond with me much. The little fellow however became enchanted and addicted to my wife Georgia. (I totally understood what Baxter felt like on that subject.)
Baxter’s short life was one of eating, doing his business outside (which he was very good at) and following Georgia around constantly and begging food from me constantly. However, his crown achievement was getting to curl up on Georgia’s lap and take naps. He took hundreds of naps on Georgia’s lap in the time I personally knew him. He never took a nap in my lap.
I was so desperate and frustrated in my failure to bond with him or even to interest him in chasing anything, let alone a ball, that I even tried to get him interested in role models by showing him old Lassie TV reruns, or Rin Tin Tin TV reruns, or Roy Roger’s Bullet TV reruns, but alas, Baxter just stared at me like I had lost my mind and in moments Baxter once again sought out Georgia’s lap and took his 10,000th nap.
That was little Baxter’s contribution to the world, save for the fact that he endeared himself to most everybody that he was introduced to. It was very hard not to like Baxter even though he did almost nothing.
But endearment is the word concerning Baxter. In his short little life I once again experienced the process of our abilities to profoundly attach ourselves to people, sight, sounds, experiences, and yes, even to little napping eight pound dogs that do not have a clue on how to chase a stupid little ball.
A great blessing for Baxter was that he was well tended to. He ate well, he got his baths, he got his walks, and we talked to him constantly. He liked to be talked to. He went on trips, and he even attended a graveside service in the mountains of Virginia. He behaved very well during this solemn ceremony; he did not bark once, but he did curl up on Georgia’s lap and, you guessed it, took a nap while the preacher was saving souls.
I thought Baxter would live another 10 – 15 years. We only had him a year and a half.
Baxter’s downhill slide all started when two things happened almost simultaneously. We took him to the vet for his shots, and we got him trimmed all in the same week. Shortly afterwards he started shaking with tremors, then strange sores broke out in his ears, he started licking his paws and his energy level and usual spurts of excitement just seemed to vanish.
One trip after another after another was made to the vet. One test after another was made at and by the vet. Here and there a weak diagnosis was made, but all the while the veterinary profession scratched their heads and we waited for yes more test results Baxter, our little friend and buddy just slipped day by day, and there was nothing we could do – I once again felt the horrible feeling of hopelessness.
Hopelessness is something I have witnessed tens of thousands of times being a funeral director, and I have myself experienced it, but I feel a person can really do little to prepare for or anticipate what needs to be done to possibly lessen the pain of hopelessness ahead of time, no matter what the Dr. Phils of the world preach. It seems to me that hopelessness is a human experience that the Creator designed to be dealt with by just going through the valley, just going through the fire and feeling the depth of the painful emotions, and putting your head down and no matter what just marching forward. I have read nothing that possesses a magic quick fix formula for dealing with the desert isolating feeling of hopelessness, and hopelessness is what I felt when I left on Memorial Day for a business meeting at “The Farm,” the world famous Batesville Casket Company in Indiana.
During the drive up to Batesville, numerous phone calls were made concerning the most current updates about our little friend and good buddy Baxter Van Beck. None of the conversations we had possessed a tad of hope. Baxter was deteriorating further, and Thursday on my drive back to Memphis my wife (who is a RN) called and reported that Baxter could not walk anymore. My heart sank to the floor of the car. For the first time the phrase “we’d better put him down” entered into our conversation.
What a phrase, “put him down.” Who the hell dreamt that one up? Of course we all knew what that cold sterile phrase meant, regardless of who invented it. So while I was driving back, the final appointment to the vet was made for 5:00 p.m. Thursday, May 30, 2013. This day would be Baxter’s last day alive.
Every mile I got closer to Memphis the more I wanted to turn around and go anywhere except where I knew I had to go. I guess that is what the grief brains call denial, escapism, fear, anxiety or just the good old-fashioned human emotion of grief, the emotion of loss.
At 1:00 p.m. I looked at my watch and thought, “Baxter has four more hours to live.” At 2:00 p.m. I thought, “Well, he has three more hours to live.” Then a sense of overwhelming sadness engulfed me, because I felt the haunting feeling that Baxter didn’t have a clue as to what was being planned for him and that in a terribly short time he would never hear, see, walk, or bark again. And there would be absolutely no chance that I could try one more time to get him to chase a ball. I was mighty sad.
I arrived home at 3:30 p.m., and as I drove up in the driveway there Georgia sat in the shade and you guessed it, Baxter was taking a nap in her lap. She looked so sad.
During my time at Batesville over the last three days things had just gotten worse. Baxter had not eaten or drunk any water for three days. He now could not walk, nor could he open his mouth, and one of his eyes was clouding up with some unknown type of film.
It was time. Enough was enough. I knew now that I could not be selfish, for on the drive home most of my anxieties and fears were centered on TVB’s issues, not around Baxter’s issues.
Georgia held him, she petted him, and she talked baby talk to him, which he utterly adored.
We got back in the car and made the short trip to the vet.
Forty five minutes later, it was all over, and we were back home with Baxter. I got the shovel, and in 15 minutes the grave had been dug. Baxter was placed in the hole and the dirt was shoveled over his little box (we wrapped him in his favorite blanket) and in 10 minutes a small mound of dirt was present behind a garage on a small parcel of land in West Tennessee.
That evening all Georgia and I did was talk about Baxter. We laughed and cried. We comforted ourselves, taking great solace in the reality that Baxter’s last year and a half was a good time for the little guy, and it was a good time for us also.
It has now been four days since we buried Baxter as I write these words. The would ofs, could ofs, and should ofs still pop up in our conversation. The house seems strangely quiet without him barking at sounds real and imaginary. Baxter had a habit of immediately assuming that any sound was obviously really bad men outside who wanted to break in our house to murder Georgia and me. Even when the door bell actually rang, Baxter always went running and barking insanely to the wrong door, to protect us. At dinner time I miss him looking at me with sincere eyes begging for one more, just one more morsel of food. We miss him and are grieving for him.
Since Baxter’s death I have been pondering what this all means, and have been exploring my own feelings about what has happened in our lives. Once again I have concluded that I have to link this experience up to the noble and grand purposes of our great profession – funeral service and cemetery service. For example I was digging Baxter’s grave I thought about the gravediggers across the world, including those who work for the same company I work for, who dig thousands of graves for mothers, fathers, children, friends, rich people, poor people, old people, young people. They dig thousands of graves and the feelings and sentiments I have been experiencing are truly a core ingredient in being attached and sensitive to the experience of grief and bereavement.
I also thought of the noble pioneering of the great individuals in the Pet Loss Professionals Alliance that is now connected with ICCFA, and was struck once again just how important their work is, and how thankful and appreciative we should be for the work they have already accomplished, which is impressive and credible.
I thought about how this experience of pain has once again reawakened in old grumpy TVB yet another deeper level of empathy as to just how people are really feeling when they walk in the door of the funeral home or cemetery office. In these wacky times, I personally believe these “wake-up” calls are something that ought to be paid attention to. There are lessons to be had, great wise lessons about life in the hopeless, the lost and the grieving experiences in life. As my old seminary professor used to say, “All true human wisdom and growth comes through the suffering experiences of life.” Don’t hear that kind of stuff much these days, do we?
Grief is grief and pain is pain, and in the end it makes no difference what has happened or to whom it has happened—the raw emotion is still the same. It can be the death of a president of the United States; it can be the death of a parent, a friend, a stranger; or it can be the death of a little tiny dog named Baxter. Most times when this happens, with great appropriateness the world, or at least a portion of the world, comes to a standstill. Most times what I am writing about is truly a “stand still, be still” experience. It seems this is a wise and insightful thing for human beings to embrace; the ability to stand still and be still. When I placed the last shovel of dirt over Baxter’s remains I stood still and was still. I felt and I learned.
On Sunday, I gave a three-hour seminar to the Tennessee Funeral Directors Association. I drove up to Nashville in the morning, and drove back last night. It was a long but a good day, as the Tennessee FDA group is indeed mighty fine people.
Georgia was gone when I got home. I came in, took my suit coat off as usual and I sat down on the sofa to watch “60 Minutes.” As I sat on the sofa, I noticed a small yellow ball roll out from under the sofa. It was Baxter’s first and only toy, which utterly baffled him, a little toy ball that cost no more than 60 cents.
I sat on the sofa, lost all interest in “60 Minutes,” and just held the little 60-cent yellow ball. It is just a ball. I could feel myself start to well up, and in short order tears were flowing. I miss Baxter. He drove me nuts at times, but I miss him very much. He was a good little fellow, and was a devoted little friend, even though there were times he just didn’t know what to do or how to do it. But as I composed myself, I thought that even though Baxter was a dog, and I’m a human being, we were not that far apart in the end, for I have had times in my life that I just didn’t know what to do or how to do it either.
By the time Georgia returned, I had had my moment and was composed, but I am thinking long and hard that Baxter did teach me something about life, about respecting God’s great creation and the wise ability to be just who you are.
There is one thing for certain about Baxter Van Beck: What you saw was what you got.
Anyway this is one old undertaker’s opinion. — Todd Van Beck
When you hear about a man saving his dog from a sinking ship, it’s hard to not be moved by the tale of an animal lover’s heroism. But the story becomes slightly less heroic when you learn that the man saved his dog before his own wife.
But that’s apparently what happened when Graham Anley and his wife, Cheryl, found their yacht sinking after it hit a reef while on a voyage from East London to Madagascar.
National Sea Rescue Institute North London station commander Geoff McGregor said all three were wearing life jackets. The 9-year-old Jack Russell terrier named Rosie was wearing a tailored life jacket equipped with a strobe light beacon.
“As the incident happened Graham sent a Mayday radio distress call and activated the EPIRB (a GPS beacon) but they were immediately forced to abandon ship,” McGregor said in an interview.
“He first swam Rosie ashore safely before returning for his wife, whose safety line had snagged on the steering gear,” McGregor added.
The couple and their dog all made it out free of injury.
Graham, a longtime volunteer with the National Sea Rescue Institute, said it was “humbling to have the shoe on the other foot and need to be rescued.”
Some details have yet to emerge. So, it’s likely that Cheryl was in a position of relative safety and Rosie might have been in a more perilous position had she been left on the boat. The couple did not want to speak with the media about their rescue.
So, for now, it’s left to readers to speculate about Graham’s priorities during their ordeal.
LOS ANGELES (AP) — There’s a new breed of airport dog. They aren’t looking for drugs or bombs — they are looking for people who need a buddy, a belly to rub or a paw to shake.
“His job is to be touched,” volunteer Kyra Hubis said about Henry James, her 5-year-old golden retriever that works a few hours a week at the San Jose airport. “I am just standing there with him. They are talking to him. If I need to answer for him, I do. But I am at the end of his leash, he’s not at the end of mine.”
Mineta San Jose International Airport is widely credited with introducing the first airport therapy dog in the days after Sept. 11, 2001, when flights were grounded, passengers were stranded and reaching friends and relatives in the East was nearly impossible. Passengers were anxious and afraid.
Enter Orion, owned by a volunteer airport chaplain who got permission to bring the dog to work. He made such a difference that San Jose formalized the program and now has nine dogs. Miami International Airport got onboard the program with one and Los Angeles International Airport has 30 and is hoping to expand its program.
The dogs are intended to take the stress out of travel — the crowds, long lines and terrorism concerns.
You never know why people are flying, said Heidi Huebner, director of volunteers at LAX, which launched Pets Unstressing Passengers (PUPs) in April. Travelers might be in town for a vacation, a funeral, to visit a sick family member or to attend a business meeting.
“You can literally feel the stress levels drop, people start smiling, strangers start talking to each other and everybody walks away feeling really, really good,” Huebner said.
Dogs have to be healthy, skilled, stable, well-mannered and able to work on a slack 4-foot leash, said Billie Smith, executive director of Wyoming-based Therapy Dogs, Inc., which certifies the LAX animals. They have to be comfortable with crowds, sounds, smells — and they need to pass through security like all airport workers.
Handlers are taught to watch for people who fear or dislike dogs or those who might have allergies. In most cases, people approach the dogs, identifiable by the vests or bandannas they wear.
Los Angeles’ dogs, which are featured on trading cards, are as varied as its airport passengers. There’s a long-haired Dalmatian, a Lab-pointer mix, a field spaniel, a poodle, three Australian Labradoodles, a Doberman and a 150-pound Irish wolfhound named Finn who has two tricks.
“He looks you in the eye and lays down on the job,” said owner Brian Valente. “When I’m around Finn, it makes me feel like things are OK. When Finn’s around other people, they are OK. It’s almost instant, even if just for a moment,” Valente said.
Miami’s sole dog, Casey, a 4-year-old golden retriever, is a star. She has her own website, fan mail, business cards and a role on “Airport 24/7: Miami,” a weekly reality show on the Travel Channel.
“Casey is so pure and genuine,” explained Dickie Davis, director of terminal operations and customer service. “She’s not asking for anything or selling anything. She is just a love magnet.”
When Claudia McCaskill’s family recently flew home from vacation in Brazil she requested Casey meet the plane to greet her 5-year-old daughter, Carina, who is autistic. She knew Carina would be low on energy and patience and they still had a 2.5-hour drive home to St. Lucie.
Casey and handler Liz Miller were there with a gift basket and Carina fell in love with the dog.
“Thank you for visiting us at the airport so I would be happy,” Carina said in a video the family made for Casey.
Now Carina wants to go back and see Casey again.
“I can’t say how much we appreciate what they did for us. It not only helped our daughter, but us too,” McCaskill said.
Despite all the smiles, there are also hard moments.
Before departing from San Jose, a soldier kneeled down and told Henry James: “OK, buddy, you take care of the house while I am gone,” Hubis said.
A woman who said her husband of 40 years told her he wanted a divorce that morning wept on Henry’s shoulder.
“He just sat there,” Hubis said. “He knew. He can feel.”
In my years as a veterinarian, I’ve given a lot of advice – in print, online, over the airwaves and on national TV and, yes, in person. Do this, not that. Avoid this, choose that. I’ve seen my colleagues do the same, over exam room tables, at conferences and in various forms of media.
The other day, though, it struck me: Most of the advice we share is specific to dogs. I guess that makes sense – after all, dogs hit the road with us, on everything from walks around the block to cross-country tours. We take them out in all kinds of weather, so we have to worry about icy paws and overheating. We share our food with them, constantly. And we’re always noticing things about their behavior that we want – or need – to fix.
But what about our cats?
Don’t Cats Need Our Help, Too?
Cats seem to do a better job of taking care of themselves – or do they? I started running through all the preventable problems cats run into, and I noticed that quite a few of them pop up like weeds as spring turns to summer. So, yes, your cat does need you.
Here are my top five feline seasonal risks and how to avoid them.
1. Toxic topicals: Products for fleas, ticks and mites that are made for dogs can kill your cat. My best advice is to ask your veterinarian for a product recommendation that’s safe and effective for felines and is a good fit for your specific cat. In most cases, your veterinarian will recommend an FDA- and/or EPA-approved product. That’s step one. Step two is up to you: Follow instructions to the letter and ask your vet if you have any questions. And if your cat has a reaction to the product, call your veterinarian immediately. (By the way, some flea-control products that are labeled “herbal” or “natural” can also kill your cat, so talk with your vet before trying any of these.)
2. Heartworm disease: When people think about parasites and cats, they’re typically thinking of fleas and maybe ear mites and possibly ticks, if you’re in an area that’s heavily infested. But what about heartworms? Dog owners are aware of the risks of these parasites, but they also affect cats. Coughing and difficult breathing may be a sign of heartworm disease, not just hairballs or asthma, as many cat owners assume. And while heartworm disease may present differently in cats than it does in dogs, prevention is key for both species. Ask your veterinarian for heartworm prevention recommendations.
3. Abscesses: The aftermath of a cat fight is often an abscess: a swollen, hot pocket of infection, pus and debris that often must be surgically treated, held open with drains and addressed with a course of antibiotics. Once you’ve nursed your cat through one abscess, you’re not going to want to repeat the experience. Neutering male cats will reduce fighting but won’t completely eliminate territorial battles. The best way to avoid an abscessed wound is to keep your cat inside and out of harm’s way.
4. Poisoning: While your cat is safer inside, the great indoors offers some hazards as well. Cats are pickier than dogs about what they eat, which is why feline poisoning isn’t as big a problem – but that’s not to say it doesn’t happen. Many cats love to eat plants, and some of those are toxic. Check your houseplants against the ASPCA’s list of toxic plants to determine which ones could harm your cat, and then remove those that are a danger from any area your pet has access to. And just in case you miss one or two, or your cat finds herself in an off-limits part of your house, make sure your veterinarian’s number, the emergency veterinary clinic number and the number of the ASPCA’s Animal Poison Control Center (APCC) are where you can find them instantly. (Note: The APCC charges for consultations, so have a credit card ready when you call.)
5. Falls: Cats are built to handle falls from trees – not skyscrapers. Cats do fine with jumps or falls from relatively low heights, the kind that would be found in a typical feline environment. But the minute the weather warms up and apartment dwellers start opening their windows, cats start tumbling out, resulting in injury and death. It’s a miracle that cats can survive a fall at all, but their ability to rotate into an optimal “feet down” landing position has saved many a cat from a high-rise fall. Surprisingly, cats can – and do – survive falls from higher floors (although they are often severely injured), but a cat can be killed by a fall from a lower balcony or floor. How is this possible? The theory is that a couple of more floors may give a cat enough time to get into the best position for landing. There are limits, though: Nothing will save a cat who falls from 30 floors or so. The best prevention, no matter what floor you live on: sturdy, well-secured screens.
Safe Kitty, Warm Kitty, Bigger Ball of Fur
While this list covers some of the warmer weather hazards your cat can face, please keep in mind that probably the biggest risk to your cat’s health and happiness is obesity. Keeping cats indoors keeps them safe from many risks, but the sedentary lifestyle that often results can create other serious problems. A fat cat is not a healthy one. Check out The Indoor Pet Initiative, run by my colleague and longtime friend Dr. Tony Buffington of The Ohio State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. You’ll find plenty of ideas for indoor enrichment that will keep your cat more active. Exercise is essential for staying lean and living long. If your cat is already overweight or obese, talk to your veterinarian and discuss how to slim your pet down safely. Summer is always a good time to start.
By Dr. Marty Becker
Rebecca Farrar was just 4 years old when she became seriously ill and was diagnosed with diabetes. Today, as a Type 1 diabetic, 9-year-old Rebecca’s blood sugar can drop without warning, putting her at risk of hypoglycemia, which can lead to a coma or even death. Often, Rebecca doesn’t realize her blood sugar is dropping, but someone else does: her yellow Labrador, Shirley.
Dogs have provided assistance for people with physical and mental disabilities for decades, but in recent years researchers have discovered that canines can also detect illness in humans. With a sense of smell 100,000 times more sensitive than ours, dogs have sniffed out many things, including cancer and dips in glucose levels.
Originally, Rebecca’s dog was being trained in the U.K. as a seeing-eye dog, but she had to replaced because she didn’t like her harness. However, her diabetic owner had noticed that she always licked his hand before he became hypoglycemic, so Shirley was retrained as a diabetic alert dog.
Today, Shirley licks Rebecca’s hand when her blood sugar begins to drop. If Rebecca doesn’t respond, the dog will get the attention of another family member, often bringing Rebecca’s sugar-testing kit with her.
Almost 350 million people have diabetes worldwide, according to the World Health Organization. However, it can be difficult for Type 1 diabetics – many who have lived with fluctuating blood sugar levels all their lives – to tell when their blood sugar is out of balance. The early warning that a dog can provide can save their lives.
Dan Warren, a Type 1 diabetic and retired U.S. Marine who used to train bomb-sniffing dogs, runs Warren Retrievers, an organization located in Orange, Va., that trains diabetic alert dogs. His dogs learn to warn diabetics of potential problems, to retrieve shot kits and food, and even to call 911 in an emergency.
He says that dogs can detect the onset of seizures 20 minutes or more in advance and can sense blood-sugar fluctuations up to 45 minutes beforehand.
“In a glass of iced tea, we can smell a teaspoon of sugar,” Warren told the Gaston Gazette. “Dogs could smell that teaspoon of sugar in an Olympic-size swimming pool.”
Warren attributes these abilities to dogs’ powerful sense of smell, an idea medical professionals say is plausible.
“They can see and smell all sorts of things we don’t,” Dr. Lawrence Myers, an expert in canine scent detection at Auburn University College of Veterinary Medicine, told WebMD. However, he says there’s “a lack of reliable data that confirms that they are doing that, and doing that reliably.”
Despite the lack of conclusive scientific evidence, Robby and Melissa Putnam say that their diabetic son’s dog, Scout, gives them peace of mind.
One in 20 Type 1 diabetics die in their sleep after blood glucose plummets, so 12-year-old Josh Putnam gets up at 3 a.m. every day to check his blood sugar levels.
“Scout is a huge relief,” Josh’s mom, Melissa, told the Gaston Gazette. “You look down and see that she’s nice and calm. You know he’s good.”
At a railroad crossing in Shirley, Mass., Lilly, the pit bull, hurdled into a race against time. The dog’s owner, Christine Spain, had collapsed on the train tracks, and the westbound freight train was coming.
Lilly dragged her owner out of danger, but the train’s front wheel caught and crushed her paw.
The train struck Lilly a few minutes after midnight on May 3, according to Rob Halpin, spokesman for Boston’s Angell Animal Medical Center. The dog was “critically wounded,” he said but managed to reach her owner’s side. She stayed by the unconscious woman, until help arrived.
The train engineer had seen a “frantic” dog struggling to pull the woman to safety, but he couldn’t stop the train in time, Halpin said.
“The engineer, who asked not to be identified, was convinced the train had struck both Christine and the dog, and realized only after stopping and rushing to their aid that Christine was unharmed,” Halpin said. But Lilly had been badly hurt.
“The train’s wheels sliced through her right foot, fractured her pelvis in multiple locations and caused other internal injuries,” he said.
The engineer called for help. The Shirley, Mass. animal control officer took Lilly to a local emergency veterinary hospital and Spain’s son, Boston police Officer David Lanteigne, was notified. He rushed the 8-year-old dog to Angell Animal Medical Center.
Doctors amputated Lilly’s right leg on May 5. She had a second surgery to fix her pelvis and back left leg. She has a long and difficult recovery ahead, Dr. Meg Whalen, a veterinarian with the Angell Emergency and Critical Care Unit, said.
Halpin went on to explain Lilly “will be unable to bear weight or walk without assistance for the first few months after her surgery.”
Halpin said Lilly is still in the hospital as of press time, but her caregivers hoped that she would be able to go home soon.
“We’re hoping,” Halpin said. “She’s improving, and we’re hoping to get her back to some semblance of her former self. But, of course, she’ll have to learn to walk again.”
Lanteigne said Lilly will go home with him. Spain will also move in while Lilly is recovering.
“Lilly means the world to my mother,” Lanteigne said. He adopted Lilly from a shelter several years ago as a companion for Spain, who has suffered from alcoholism.
Spain “doted on the dog from the moment she came to live with her,” he said. The bond with the dog first changed and then saved Spain’s life.
Whalen thinks Lilly will also make it.
Lilly’s bravery “has captured the hearts of our entire staff,” she said.
Pictured: Lilly, an 8-year-old pit bull, underwent emergency surgery after a freight train struck her. The dog pulled her owner, Christine Spain, to safety after Spain collapsed and fell unconscious on the track. (Photo Courtesy of MSPCA-Angell)
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