As a veterinarian, I have a healthy respect for anesthesia and understand my clients’ fears. Anesthesia is essentially the process of taking a living being to the brink of death—obliterating many life-preserving reflexes—and then bringing that being back to life again. It is never, ever without risk, but that risk should be carefully calculated from the start—weighing risk vs reward.
Dogs don’t have a human voice. They place implicit trust in us to speak for them and care for them, which goes well beyond food and shelter. It extends into the intangible realm of setting up situations to go in their favor. And a prime example of this is shaping your dog’s experience at the veterinary hospital.
My dog Griffey will soon be seven years old. As a black Labrador/Weimaraner mix, he is a deep black with a splash of white on his chest. In the last year or so, I’ve noticed that his muzzle is beginning to match the fur on his chest and that small grey hairs are starting to appear around his eyes. He also tires of fetch faster than he used to, seeming content to plop down on the grass, put his ears back, and take in the smells.
Traditional Chinese veterinary medicine (TCVM), which includes acupuncture, is an ancient practice that has been gaining in popularity in the United States. Our geriatric pets can greatly benefit from these techniques. Even healthy dogs can see improvements in energy, attitude, physical performance and overall quality of life.