An Old Vet's Tales #1

The problem with tablets

My patients often taught me very valuable lessons. I had been with my first practice after qualifying for about four months during which time my confidence had started to grow. In fact rather than growing, it bolted to the extent that I was becoming somewhat arrogant and beginning to believe that I was God’s gift to the pet-owning public of Dunstable. 

It was an evening surgery when an elderly couple brought in their large ginger tom cat which had an abscess at the base of its tail. I was able to lance the boil and clean up the surrounded fur before giving it an injection of penicillin. This treatment needed to be followed up by oral medication of penicillin tablets. I handed the paper envelope containing the pills to the gentleman who expressed his conviction that they would be totally unable to give the cat the tablets.
“Oh, it’s very simple,” I said “You just draw down his lower jaw, pop the pill into the back of his throat and massage his throat while holding his mouth shut. Wait for him to swallow and the job is done.” 
I almost felt like patting them on the head as they left to make a follow-op appointment in three days’ time.
They duly arrived three days later with slightly ashamed looks on their faces. “We have not been able to give him the tablet I’m afraid,” he said in a low, apologetic whisper.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said in all my arrogance. “Give him to me and I will show you.”
That cat! It spat, it kicked, it bit, it twisted and clawed but, most of all, it brought me down several pegs and I surrendered by giving it another injection. After the clients left, probably with knowing smiles on their faces, I went to the sink to bathe my wounds but no amount of antiseptic soap was going to wash away the damage to my pride. I have never forgotten that cat and that was over 50 years ago.