Pets and the City: True Tales of a Manhattan House Call Veterinarian - Hardcover

Attas, Dr. Amy

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593715675 ISBN 13: 9780593715673

Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

New York City’s premier “house call veterinarian” takes you into the exclusive penthouses and four-star hotel rooms of the wealthiest New Yorkers and shows that, when it comes to their pets, they are just as neurotic as any of us.

When a pet is sick, people—even the rich and famous—are at their most authentic and vulnerable. They could have a Monet on the wall and an Oscar on the shelf, but if their cat gets a cold, all they want to talk about are snotty noses and sneezing fits. That’s when they call premier in-home veterinarian Dr. Amy Attas.

In Pets and the City, Dr. Amy shares all the funny, heartbreaking, and life-affirming experiences she’s faced throughout her thirty-year career treating the cats and dogs of New Yorkers from Park Avenue to the projects. Some of her stories are about celebs, like the time she saw a famous singer naked (no, her rash was not the same as her puppy’s). Others are about remarkable animals, like the skilled service dog who, after his exam was finished, left the room and returned with a checkbook in his mouth. Every tale in this rollicking, informative, and fun memoir affirms a key truth about animal, and human, nature: Our pets love us because their hearts are pure; we love them because they’re freaking adorable. On some level, we know that by caring for them, we are the best version of ourselves. In short: Our pets make us better people.

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Dr. Amy Attas is an award-winning veterinarian and the founder of City Pets, which for more than three decades has been the premier veterinary medical house call practice for dogs and cats living, working in, or visiting Manhattan. She shares a home with her husband, Stephen Shapiro, and if she is lucky, some rescued pugs.

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Chapter 1

How I Got Started

When I first read James Herriot's classic book All Creatures Great and Small (now a popular, long-running PBS television show), about life as a small-town vet, it was like my internal alarm clock rang. It was time for me to change from playing make-believe veterinarian to being a real one, starting with getting a real job in a real animal hospital.

But I was only thirteen and had absolutely no idea how to get a job, much less how to become a vet.

So, I took out the family's copy of the thick Queens, New York, Yellow Pages, found the listings starting with "V," and flipped the tissue-paper-thin pages until I reached "Veterinary Hospitals." Then, I started calling each one to ask for a job. They said things like, "Call us after you have some experience" or "We can't take volunteers for insurance reasons." The worst "no" was "Call back when you grow up"-and then they hung up on me.

On my twentieth try, the vet himself answered the phone at the Forest Hills Cat Hospital. Dr. Jay Luger listened to my teenage "I have to be a vet" pitch.

"I also knew I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was a kid," he said. "Why don't you come by one day after school and watch what we're doing?" I was over the moon, even just to watch, even for just one day.

Since I didn't want to arrive late, I skipped lunch so I could leave school early. Bad idea. From the moment I arrived in his office, I felt lightheaded. Whether that was from low blood sugar or excitement, I didn't know.

A smiling technician escorted me into the exam room to observe Dr. Luger's last case of the day. The patient was an old gray tabby. "This guy has lost a lot of weight recently, and I need to figure out why," he said.

He did a physical exam on the cat, and then set up to do some blood tests. Dr. Luger's assistant gently petted the patient while holding him still with his neck exposed. I leaned forward for a better look as the doctor inserted the long needle of the hypodermic syringe into the cat's jugular vein. The syringe filled with dark red blood. He transferred some of the blood into a purple-topped tube, handed it to me, and said, "Amy, turn the tube gently upside down, back and forth, so the blood doesn't clot."

As instructed, I turned the warm tube over and over and watched as the blood rushed one way and then the other. After three turns, I got a funny feeling, like my world was also flipping over . . . and then I passed out cold on the treatment room floor, just fifteen minutes after I'd walked into my first "job" at my first animal hospital.

The blood sample was saved, but my pride was not.

My hope had been to keep going to Dr. Luger's office after school every day, even though I was invited for just one. I was now too embarrassed to return at all. The next day I went back to the Yellow Pages, starting with the entry after Forest Hills Cat Hospital, and made more calls.

Fortunately, another vet said I could come by and observe, also for a single day. This time I made sure to eat lunch before I went.

I arrived at the hospital just as the doctor was about to begin abdominal surgery on a Labrador retriever. His assistant helped me don a cap, mask, and booties. As I entered the surgery room, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a glass door and thought I looked very much the part of a real vet. I was extremely proud of myself.

I watched the doctor cut through the freshly shaved and prepped skin of the retriever's belly, concentrating on how sharp the scalpel must be. My breathing got increasingly louder as I inhaled and exhaled through the mask. I saw little blobs of blood bubbling up as the vet incised the skin and then cut through the belly wall, exposing the internal organs.

"This is called exploratory surgery, because I don't know the full extent of the dog's problem," the vet said to me. "So, I'm going to inspect each of his internal organs first, and then remove the mass that I know is on his liver."

I barely heard what he was saying because my breathing had now become so loud that I thought everyone else could hear it, too. And suddenly the room was blazing hot. And my vision blurred. Why is everything black and white? I thought just moments before I fainted to the floor. Again.

This hospital staff was very understanding, but I left that day with my tail between my legs, thoroughly embarrassed and existentially shattered. How was I ever going to become a vet if I passed out at the sight of blood?

I remained determined. I would just have to redeem myself. And I was running out of vets in the Yellow Pages to cold call. So, the very next day (and after having lunch), I rode three city buses and showed up again-unannounced-at the first vet's cat practice.

When Dr. Luger's nurse saw me, she said dryly, "We thought you might be back. We have smelling salts ready for you." Not only did I not faint that day, I kept going back to the Forest Hills Cat Hospital for six straight years.

D


Fainting at the sight of blood was the first of many obstacles I’ve had to overcome on my path to becoming a vet.

At the end of my junior year at Barnard College, it was time to think about veterinary school applications. I needed a stellar GPA, stratospheric test scores, unreserved recommendations, and wide-ranging extracurricular experience.

The last one concerned me. By now, I knew my way around your standard house pet or lab mouse, but I had no experience with farm animals. If I could secure a summer job with a large-animal veterinary practice, then I would have a standout vet school package and be able to live my James Herriot fantasy at the same time.

From a friend of a friend, I got the name and phone number of a large-animal vet with a mobile practice in rural eastern Connecticut. This was exactly the kind of situation I was looking for.

I dialed the number and a woman answered, "Dr. Nat Johnson."

"May I speak with Dr. Johnson, please?" I asked.

"I am Dr. Johnson."

Nat as in Natalie? It had never occurred to me that this large-animal veterinarian would be a woman! Now I had to get a job with her. I quickly introduced myself and explained the purpose of my call, emphasizing my eagerness to learn about large animals and my willingness to do absolutely anything to be of help.

"I like your attitude, Amy," the doctor replied. "I might be able to arrange for you to spend a few weeks shadowing me. But before you decide, let me explain a few things about my practice. First of all, it is just me. I set up my equipment at the beginning of the day, drive myself to appointments, take care of my patients, and when I return at the end of the day, I wash everything and restock my truck. I work seven days a week but only a half day on Sunday."

This would be the perfect job for me. Since it would just be the two of us, I'd be able to do a lot of assisting. I would help with the washing up and stocking, too-anything to make myself useful. And it sounded just like James Herriot's practice in the Yorkshire Dales.

"I have a husband, three children, four dogs, and a cat," Dr. Johnson continued, "and we live in a house that is way too small for us. So, I'm afraid I don't have a room for you, but I do have an old horse trailer in the back. We could clean it out and put a mattress in. It doesn't have electricity or water, but you'd just be sleeping there. You would eat all your meals with us and use our bathroom facilities."

"I see," I replied. Not exactly what I was expecting, but workable?

"Oh, and one more thing. I run this practice on a shoestring so I'm afraid I don't have any money to pay you. But I guarantee you a wealth of experience!"

Without allowing myself to think too hard about it, I accepted Dr. Johnson's terms, and we worked out the...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2024
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593715675
• ISBN 13: 9780593715673
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar