Shades of James Herriott

Riley Goes to the Vet

I knew the day would come. I knew that I would have to take someone to the vet here in Chile. And I knew that it would be different. 

 Riley, the smaller of the two Chilean Swiss Mountain dogs had a problem. The nail and quick of the outside toe of her left foot had become separated. It was obviously bothering her as she was licking it and it was red and I assumed painful.  I slapped on some anti-bacterial medication and bandaged it up and completed the work with a sock taped at the top to keep her from licking the toe. Then I set to work doing some research on the internet to see what the recommended treatment was. The recommendation was not so nice. General anesthesia and removal of both the nail and the quick. Uh oh. This wasn't what I wanted to find.

A friend of mine who has been living here for about 3 years had a vet she trusted. She'd just been to see him the week before when her dog, Kojo, was bitten after escaping from his yard and running into what we assume was a very large dog by the bite marks. The vet saw my friend right away and was close and she trusted him. Here's a picture of Kojo before the accident. He looked pretty much the same after the incident except the hair on his neck had been shaved. I digress. My friend knew that the vet spoke Spanish and thought he spoke some German as well. Since I'd been in Chile for only two months and my Spanish was limited to yes, no, please, thank you, beer, and toilet (the most important words in ANY language, but not very useful for a vet visit), I thought, that I could handle this in German. I'd had a few years of German in high school and college and had spent some time in Germany. Fortunately, my friend understood how nervous I was and volunteered to go with me.  She called the vet and he said to being Riley in an hour or so. What? We didn't have to wait a few days?

During the time we had until departure, I wondered what a vet office in Chile would look like on the inside. In general, the vet clinics I'd passed on the streets were rather small. Inside, I found that they are a store with a vet office in the back. The "quality" dog foods are sold at these places, so I'd visited once or twice in an attempt to find dog food without corn as the main ingredient (no luck, so now I cook for them..a posting for another day). They are kind of like the PetSmarts with a vet, but on a miniature scale with the food and toys up front and the vet office off to the side.

Now, all of the vet offices I'd been to in the Baltimore/Washington area were similar and I assume the set up is the same in many parts of the US. You walk in with your pet and find a counter staffed with a receptionist and a seating area, perhaps even two seating areas: one for cats and one for dogs. The floor is dog proofed (slick so they can't pull and solid so the clean up is easy). You take a seat and wait for your dog or you to be called. A tech leads you to the scale and then into your own exam room, takes the dogs temp and asks a few questions and then they ask you to please wait, the vet will be right in.  During this waiting period, you read just about everything available in the room: the posters for the latest flea and tick product with the nasty photos of the magnified critters (nightmarish), the packages and bottles on the counter, the cute little doggie DNA advertising poster, the breed charts, the spay and neuter warnings, and photos of the vets beloved pets looking lovingly at the camera.  After you've had enough time to read everything and are working your way through a second time, there's a knock on the door and the vet comes in. They greet the Swissy (much loving from Emmett, a shy hello from Riley) and examine the dog asking you questions about their bowel movements and such. Usually from the floor, as these guys are too big to put up on the table. If they determine that there's blood (or other samples to be taken), they are off to the back room and you wait some more. Then you hear the small HOOVES quickly walking back down the hallway to the door along with the jingle of the collar that is instantly recognizable as YOUR dog's, and when the door opens, there's a a vet tech being dragged through the door by the exuberant Swissy who wants his or her person after that embarrassing episode of being poked and prodded in unmentionable places. Once it's over, you say goodbye and await the bill. You pull out your credit card after they tell you the damage and you pay (or you ask about their payment plans).  And this is just for the vet visit. The surgery follows an interesting pattern as well.

You bring the dog in in the morning, check them in, sign the scary forms, and the tech comes out with a lead, puts it on the dog, and hands you back the lead with the collar attached. Then your naked pup is taken back to the pre-op area where they await surgery. They tell you they will call you when they're done. If you're like me, when they say the dog will be out of surgery by 1130, you call at 1135 to see how it went. As you listen to the latest ads while you're on hold, the person who picked up the phone goes to find out. Just as you're getting into the musak or ads, it stops, and they tell you that the surgery isn't done yet or they are out, but not awake. They tell you the doctor will call. I've generally had very good vets and they do call to let me know how it went. Once the pup is ready to be picked up, you head to the office, fill out the paperwork, throw down the credit card again, and wait for what you think might be a somewhat groggy pup to come out from the back. Neither of mine ever came out the least bit groggy. For the most part they run out of there with their tails wagging, pulling the tech along with them. (Riley and Emmett do not lack enthusiasm) You worry that they're going to rip their stitches, but they quickly calm down. Once in the car, they collapse and fall asleep.

So I thought about this as I nervously waited to take Riley to the Chilean vet. I wondered how it would be. It really couldn't have been more different from the above experiences.

We put Riley in the car and headed to the vet's office, which was only about 6 blocks away from our house.  The office was a white cinder block building on a corner with a large sign in the front. It kind of looked like a residence and it was mixed into a residential area as are many businesses here. The office door, with an iron gate, faced a side street and there is a Ford F-150 parked on the dusty curb in front. The business door faces the main street and is fronted by a small parking pad that can be enclosed by two enormous blue-grey metal gates.  The sign and the building have probably seen better days. The blue-grey paint is a little faded, but the strength of the sun in this area caused that, I'm sure. The sign says they do xrays. That's modern. Another sign says "Abierto" or open.

We rang the bell next to the large wooden door with a handle in the middle. Through the window, I saw a man get up from behind the desk in the front room. In his green lab coat, he walked over and opened the door. My friend said hello in Spanish and we went inside. The man was the vet, apparently.

He took us through the front room. It was dark with a large wooden desk to the left and a few chairs in an alcove to the right. There were breed posters on the walls: one dog, one cow, and one horse. No flea control posters. No photos of his beloved pets. No receptionist or shiny desk. There WAS dog proof laminate flooring.

I was right. This was going to be a different experience.