IVEC Scholarship Winner Post Travel Essay

 By Ariel Grubb, Scholarship Winner- SAVMA International Veterinary Exchange Committee

Washington State University

There’s a skinny street dog with mucus globbed onto its eyelids and partially occluding its nostrils.  It is bobbing its head up and down as it shakily scurries around the terrace with the other puppies. I can tell that this dog has distemper and there’s another in the corner with early signs of the same disease; ocular-nasal discharge, lethargy and occasional premonitory musculoskeletal twitches.  There is no isolation ward so these dogs have exposed the virus to dozens of their non-vaccinated shelter mates. It’s a disturbing thought, but in this resource poor hospital, reducing viral cross contamination is low on the list of medical priorities. 

A third, emaciated distemper dog is lying in a kennel on the patio below. It has a 105˚F fever, cannot stand or sit up and has been violently contracting its entire body and pumping its jaw open and shut for ten days.  The fur has been rubbed off and its raw skin is sticking to the rag lining its cage.  This organization does not elect euthanasia as a first option for a suffering animals, even those with horrendous injuries that most US vets wouldn’t even bother treating. They are inclined to hold out hope for recovery, despite their inability to consistently offer adequate care. Many of their patients (with viral and bacterial infections, fractures, internal injuries, etc) could recover if what they need (24hr/day IV fluids, monitoring, soft bedding, temperature control, pain management, etc) were available.  But with one doctor, 2 nurses, a $10,000 per month budget, electricity that cuts out at random times during the day, a mostly illiterate staff, a labyrinthine set of laws from a dysfunctional government and 200 animals, this kind of care is not yet possible and morbidity is very high.

 The staff is confident that this dog in the final, neurologic stage of a severe case of canine distemper can recover without fluids, antipyretics, anticonvulsants or pain medications.  I suppose there is always a chance and it is my Western minded training that makes me want to bust into the Euthasol supply and put this dog out of its misery.  This is a country that values ahimsa (non-violence, kindness to all living things) and where the concepts of karma and reincarnation of all living creatures influence the care of these animals.  To some, euthanasia disrupts a soul’s cycle of death and rebirth, so use of “the pink juice” doesn’t have the same merciful rationale as it does in the US.

It took two weeks of constant convulsion but they eventually decided that the dog would be put to sleep. Sitting on the concrete in the Rajasthani heat, holding its skinny, weakly spasming body in my lap, I was awash with loss and pity. But I wasn’t comforted by my usual internal mantra of “it was time, we did the right thing, she was suffering” that normally allows me to accept this procedure in good conscience. This little Indian dog was already on its way to a natural death and it did not seem merciful to speed it along.

Comments

[Melody]

What clinic did you work at in Rajasthan and how did you contact and find them? I spent 5 weeks in India this summer; I actually visited the Amber Palace in Jaipur, Rajasthan. I was debating about visiting again to work, possibly this coming summer.

Melody Maxwell
The Ohio State University
College of Veterinary Medicine 2014