AU Blogspot

                              
                             Image courtesy of Matt Cipov.

A dog’s body language can tell you a lot about how the animal feels and how it may behave.  All dogs exhibit varying degrees of “dominant” or “submissive” behavior, depending on the circumstance.  Dominance and submission are survival mechanisms having roots in prehistoric pack behavior.  As a veterinary assistant, it’s important to understand the meaning of different canine body postures.  For example, truly dominant dogs stand their ground, make direct eye contact, and may even show their teeth.  These expressions mean, ”Stay away from me.  I’m tougher than you are.  And, if you get any closer, I’ll show you just how tough I am.”  Obviously, this type of dog is difficult to handle.  As a Vet Assistant, you must be careful not to provoke these animals.  Sometimes, all it takes to precipitate an act of aggression is to look directly into a dog’s eyes! More common, and just as dangerous, are canine fear-biters.  Fear-biters only seem to be submissive.  In stressful situations, they may crouch low or even roll onto their backs.  Their ears may be back, and they will usually try to avoid eye contact.  These signals mean, ”I’ve given up.  You win, so don’t bother me any more.”  Basically, the fear-biter is trying to show, in canine body language, that it is offering no threat to you, so any further aggressive actions are unnecessary.  Unfortunately, these signals are the fear-biter’s warning that if you don’t leave him alone, he will attack as a last resort.  Most people don’t recognize the danger that a cowering dog presents.  The fear-biter may respond with a quick, dangerous bite when the unwary human gets too close.  Since veterinary clinics are unfamiliar, threatening places, dogs whose behavior is normally quite predictable may become fear-biters in a clinical setting. Because veterinary clinics are threatening places to animals of all species, it isn’t unusual for a normally docile animal to act in an aggressive manner.  Even when an owner assures you, “Oh, he won’t bite,” always be on your guard.  An animal that may not bite at home, may do so in a clinic.  Anything is possible.

Ken Roberts
Veterinary Assisting Program Instructor
Ashworth University

 
                    Thanks to Karen for permission to use this Photo.

An aspect of injuries that’s often overlooked by inexperienced veterinary assistants is the animals’ response to injury.  This area of animal behavior fascinates me.  Over the years, I’ve noticed that animals deal with injuries and pain differently from humans.  No one is sure if they feel pain the same way we do or if they simply respond to it differently.  However, it’s a fact that most injured animals appear to be in less pain than we think they should be.  I’ve seen dogs with multiple gunshot wounds walk into the clinic, tails wagging and acting as if nothing were wrong!  Sometimes, this apparent immunity to pain can get in the way of successful treatment of the animal’s injuries. 

Let me give you an example that stands out in my memory.  One afternoon a client rushed into the clinic carrying his young female coonhound.  A large alligator had just attacked and almost killed it.  The ‘gator had ripped open the dog’s throat and had broken the right foreleg so badly that the limb literally hung by a thin piece of skin.  Even though she’d been seriously injured and was losing a tremendous amount of blood, she calmly wagged her tail as her owner carried her into the treatment area.  The owner begged us to save his dog’s leg, because she had the potential to become an excellent hunting dog. 

Extensive surgery on the leg followed, involving insertion of a series of pins and wires to hold broken bone fragments together.  The surgery was a success; the vet heavily bandaged and padded the leg to prevent further injury before the limb could fully heal.  She spent two weeks in the hospital, during which time we closely monitored her progress.  Despite the extent of her injury, the dog didn’t exhibit nearly the amount of pain that we expected.  Instead, she kept trying to walk on the injured leg.  Normally, the pain of this kind of injury would have prevented her from applying any weight at all to her leg.  As a result of her behavior, we discharged the dog with instructions to the owner not to let her walk on the leg. 

A week later, the man returned with his coonhound.  He’d been unable to prevent this active young dog from bearing weight on the leg.  In fact, she’d tried to run on it just that morning.  The veterinarian prescribed sedatives, hoping they would keep her calm enough to let the bones heal.  To make a long story short, we had to amputate the leg two months later.  Her repeated use of the injured leg never allowed the bone fragments to mend.  To make matters worse, many of those fragments had broken through her skin.  Essentially, we had no other option than to remove the leg.  I’m happy to report that this story has an upbeat ending.  The coonhound recovered so well that she did return to the fields as a good hunting dog, just as her owner had hoped.

Ken Roberts
Veterinary Assisting Program Instructor
Ashworth University