The Vet at Noah's Ark

Doug Mader

Description

Perfect for human interest, animal, and LA media: TV, print, online, podcast, and radio will be pitched, with targets including the likes of Nature, National Geographic, Mother Jones, Strange Animals podcast, the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times Book Review, and more. The book has already been selected as a "Required Reading" title by the New York Post.

Author is a media go-to and coverage from targets that cover him is expected: Outlets to include Miami Herald, CBS Miami, the publications of the North American Veterinary Community (64,000 FB followers), Reptiles magazine, Key West Citizen, and more.

Trade media outreach: Book is well-written and compelling and has already received stellar praise from Library Journal, which calls it “an engrossing read.” Additional praise is expected from trade outlets such as Publishers Weekly, Kirkus, Booklist, and Shelf Awareness.

Targeted digital advertising with SEO keywords to reach pet owners and the massive market of buyers of books on animals.

From renowned veterinarian Dr. Doug Mader comes a stirring account of his fight to protect his animal patients and human staff amid the dangerous realities of inner-city life and the Los Angeles riots—and a celebration of the remarkable human-animal bond.

The life of a veterinarian is challenging: keeping up with advances in medical care, making difficult decisions about people’s beloved companions, and, in Dr. Doug Mader’s case, navigating the social unrest in Los Angeles in the early 1990s. As one of the few exotic animal experts in California, he was just as likely to be treating a lion as a house cat. 

The Vet at Noah's Ark: Stories of Survival from an Inner-City Animal Hospital follows Dr. Mader and his staff over the course of a year at Noah's Ark Veterinary Hospital, an inner-city LA area veterinary hospital where Dr. Mader treats not only dogs and cats, but also emus, skunks, snakes, foxes, monkeys, and a host of other exotic animals. This real life drama is set against the backdrop of the trial of four police officers in the Rodney King case, as well as the violent aftermath following their acquittal.

This is a book about survival, both of the pets that Dr. Mader and his staff try to save on a daily basis, as well as the staff themselves. Living in the harsh reality of the city, surrounded by gangs, drugs, violence, traffic, smog, and deadly riots, they must overcome and rise above, for their own survival and that of the animals who need them. This awe-inspiring account is told through Dr. Mader's riveting storytelling—as Carl Hiaasen writes, "Doug is fearless and dedicated," and "a damn good storyteller."

Fortunately for my patient, I had recently attended a national medical conference. While there I’d visited a surgical instrument vendor and purchased the highly specialized equipment that allowed me to perform the delicate surgery through which I was currently sweating.

“Dab!” I commanded, but it came out more of a plea than an order. Stacey, one of my surgical nurses, carefully reached around my hunched shoulders and blotted the sweat from my brow, cautious not to dislodge the magnifying headset I was wearing to help me better examine the minuscule parts of my Lilliputian patient.

No heart monitors or ECG units worked on such diminutive creatures, so monitoring the anesthesia was always a difficult and challenging task. You hear doctors joke, “The surgery was a success, but unfortunately the patient died.” I never found that funny.

It’s not uncommon for a patient to lose a small amount of blood during a surgery. Blood transfusions are commonplace in most human procedures, and rarely a problem. However, when your patient weighs barely over an ounce, losing even a few drops of blood can spell disaster.

A light veil of blue smoke wafted up from the tiny incision, forming an ominous, ever-changing ghost dancing over my patient as I used an electronic scalpel to cut through the paper-thin skin. The “blade,” which is actually a radio current that cuts and coagulates the tissue, results in a minimal loss of precious blood. Thankfully, the cutting was done, and the procedure was halfway completed.

“Dr. Mader,” a voice called into the surgical room. I had a steadfast rule that people were not allowed to enter the surgical suite while an operation was in progress.

“What?” I replied, with some irritation.

“We’re running out of food for the ward patients.” Leanne was new. She wanted badly to impress me and I could hardly get mad at her for her compassion, but this really was not the time to be discussing supplies.

“It’ll have to wait, Leanne. I’m a little busy right now.”

“What an idiot!” Stacey smirked.

“C’mon, Stace,” I remarked. “Remember when you were just starting out and all enthusiastic.” I reached for a sterile cotton-tipped swab and dabbed up a dollop of blood just as it started to ooze from the quarter-inch incision. Then, using an iris forceps—a miniature replica of common tweezers that has tiny teeth—I aligned the sides of the wound in order to suture it closed.

“Yeah, I suppose,” she mumbled, turning back toward the counter where she picked up and opened a pack of surgical thread as fine as a human hair. She dropped it onto my tray, being careful not to contaminate any of the instruments. Stacey was a bit rough around the edges. She was one of the ex-cons that I had working for me over the years. Most came and went, but Stacey stayed. For the sake of my patients, I was glad she did. She was competent, smart, and always one step ahead, which made my life in the operating room much easier.

The suture was black, the same color as my patient’s pelage, making it rather difficult to see, even under the harsh surgical lights.

“Stace . . .” I started to speak.

“Yeah, yeah.” She reached over and adjusted the focus on my headset. The binocular lenses allowed me to see even the tiniest thread.

“When are you going to be finished?” Leanne’s voice pierced through the partially opened surgical suite door, interrupting my concentration.

“Get outta here!” Stacey yelled, “And don’t open that door!”

“Hey, you two!” Nothing like playing surgeon and housemother at the same time. Then, to Leanne, “I’ll be finished in about ten minutes, whatever you need will just have to wait.”

“She’s clueless.” Stacey laughed again.

I returned to my task, anxious to finish the procedure and wake up my patient. Amputating an ear does not rank as an overly difficult procedure in most cases; but then again, Mickey was not like most of my patients.

• 
  

  Prologue

  
  


• 
  

  Preface

  
  


• 
  

  The Karens

  
  


• 
  

  September: Randy and the Sticky Buns

  
  


• 
  

  October: Cheryl Knows Best

  
  


• 
  

  November: Mort the Conqueror

  
  


• 
  

  December: Brenna and the Skunk

  
  


• 
  

  January: Big Mac

  
  


• 
  

  February: Tanya and the Snake

  
  


• 
  

  March: Raoul at the Ferret Club

  
  


• 
  

  April: Greta Can’t Get a Break

  
  


• 
  

  May: Don’t Mess with Sophie

  
  


• 
  

  June: Rolling the Tortoise

  
  


• 
  

  July: Grant and Chloe “Have a Thing”

  
  


• 
  

  August 1992: The Big Test

  
  

  Epilogue

  
  

Sujets

• Veterinary Medicine
• Civil Rights
• health
• HISTORY
• POLITICAL SCIENCE
• Kilotón
• Óxido de carbono (II)
• PETS
• Memoir
• General officer
• Civil and political rights
• History of the Americas
• Human rights
• Animal Rights
• General
• United States
• NV
• HI
• ID
• UT
• MT
• CA
• CO
• Nature

Informations

• Publié par: Apollo Publishers
• Date de parution: 12 juillet 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781954641051
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Stories of Survival
from an Inner-City
Animal Hospital
Dr. Doug Mader
Foreword by Dr. Kevin T. Fitzgerald



The Vet at Noah’s Ark: Stories of Survival from an Inner-City Animal Hospital
Copyright © 2022 by Dr. Doug Mader
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be sent by email to Apollo Publishers at [e-mail].
Apollo Publishers books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promotional use. Special editions may be made available upon request. For details, contact Apollo Publishers at [e-mail].
Visit our website at www.apollopublishers.com.
Published in compliance with California’s Proposition 65.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021949147
Print ISBN: 978-1-954641-04-4
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-954641-05-1
Printed in the United States of America.
Author’s note: The stories depicted in this book are based on actual events. Some names of people, animals, organizations, and businesses have been changed out of respect for their privacy.


Contents
Foreword by Dr. Kevin T. Fitzgerald
Preface
Finding Noah’s Ark
August The Karens
September: Randy and the Sticky Buns
October: Cheryl Knows Best
November: Mort the Conqueror
December: Brenna and the Skunk
January: Big Mac
February: Tanya and the Snakey
March: Raoul at the Ferret Club
April: Greta Can’t Get a Break
May: Don’t Mess with Sophie
June: The Rolling Tortoise
July: Grant and Chloe Have “a Thing”
August 1992: The Big Test
Epilogue
Acknowledgments


This book is dedicated with eternal love to Wok and to all the Woks in everybody’s lives.


Foreword by Dr. Kevin T. Fitzgerald
I n the early 1980s veterinarian Leo K. Bustad coined the term “human- animal bond.” The American Veterinary Medical Association defines this as the “mutually beneficial and dynamic relationship between people and animals influenced by behaviors essential to the health and well-being of both.”
Since All Creatures Great and Small was first published in 1972, a host of animal writers have tried to re-create the special magic and charm of James Herriot’s book. Very few have succeeded. A large part of the appeal of the Herriot books was just how accurately they captured both the quaint nature of the English countryside and the state of veterinary medicine at the time. Readers got to accompany a country veterinarian on his daily rounds and in doing so met an enchanting group of people and animals.
In The Vet at Noah’s Ark , you get to ride shotgun with a modern clinician, the remarkable Dr. Doug Mader, as he meets his patients and their families. Human beings have been given three gifts: the wondrous biodiversity of our world, our intellect, and our empathy. I have known Dr. Mader for over thirty years, and he is one of my favorite people because he has so much respect for our world’s biodiversity, has an enviable intellect, and has empathy flow from every cell of his body.
In the following pages you will meet an unforgettable cast of characters, both animal and human, and watch as Dr. Mader treats them all with affection, respect, and love. He is the embodiment of “the bond.” You will also get to play “armchair veterinarian” and make your diagnosis as each case unfolds. In fact, this book is almost a primer in how to work up a case. Best of all, in these stories you will get to meet Dr. Mader and see him where he is undoubtedly most at home, with his patients.
To consider Dr. Mader just a veterinarian would be like considering Muhammad Ali to be just a fighter. Dr. Mader has become world-renowned through his iconic textbooks, his groundbreaking work with sea turtles, and his animal adventures to the Arctic and Antarctica, and he has earned his well-deserved reputation as clinician, teacher, and conservationist. There are some ten million other forms of life on Earth, and Dr. Mader has spent his life treating and studying a large number of them. Of course, veterinarians love animals, but the best veterinarians love people as well. Doug Mader’s understanding and love of all life come through in this solid read. Have fun with this book.
Dr. Kevin T. Fitzgerald
Animal Planet’s Emergency Vets and E-Vet Interns
Staff Veterinarian
VCA Alameda East Veterinary Hospital


Preface
F ortunately for my patient I had recently attended a national medical conference. While there I’d visited a surgical instrument vendor and purchased the highly specialized equipment that allowed me to perform the delicate surgery through which I was currently sweating.
“Dab!” I commanded, but it came out more of a plea than an order. Stacey, one of my surgical nurses, carefully reached around my hunched shoulders and blotted the sweat from my brow, cautious not to dislodge the magnifying headset I was wearing to help me better view the minuscule parts of my Lilliputian patient.
No heart monitors or ECG units worked on such diminutive creatures, so monitoring the anesthesia was always a difficult and challenging task. You hear doctors joke, “The surgery was a success, but unfortunately the patient died.” I never found that funny.
It’s not uncommon for a patient to lose a small amount of blood during a surgery. Blood transfusions are commonplace in most human procedures, and rarely a problem. However, when your patient weighs barely over an ounce, losing even a few drops of blood can spell disaster.
A light veil of blue smoke wafted up from the tiny incision, forming an ominous, ever-changing ghost dancing over my patient as I used an electronic scalpel to cut through the paper-thin skin. The “blade,” which is actually a radio current that cuts and coagulates the tissue, results in a minimal loss of precious blood. Thankfully, the cutting was done, and the procedure was halfway completed.
“Dr. Mader,” a voice called into the surgical room. I had a steadfast rule that people were not allowed to enter the surgical suite while an operation was in progress.
“What?” I replied, with some irritation.
“We’re running out of food for the ward patients.” Leanne was new. She wanted badly to impress me, and I could hardly get mad at her for her compassion, but this really was not the time to be discussing supplies.
“It’ll have to wait, Leanne. I’m a little busy right now.”
“What an idiot!” Stacey smirked.
“C’mon, Stace,” I replied. “Remember when you were just starting out and all enthusiastic.” I reached for a sterile cotton-tipped swab and dabbed up a dollop of blood just as it started to ooze from the quarter-inch incision. Then, using an iris forceps—a miniature replica of common tweezers that has tiny teeth—I aligned the sides of the wound in order to suture it closed.
“Yeah, I suppose,” she mumbled, turning back toward the counter where she picked up and opened a pack of surgical thread as fine as a human hair. She dropped it onto my tray, being careful not to contaminate any of the instruments. Stacey was a bit rough around the edges. She was one of the ex-cons whom I had working for me over the years. Most came and went, but Stacey stayed. For the sake of my patients, I was glad she did. She was competent, smart, and always one step ahead, which made my life in the operating room much easier.
The suture was black, the same color as my patient’s pelage, making it rather difficult to see, even under the harsh surgical lights.
“Stace—” I started to speak.
“Yeah, yeah.” She reached over and adjusted the focus on my headset. The binocular lenses allowed me to see even the tiniest thread.
“When are you going to be finished?” Leanne’s voice pierced through the partially opened surgical suite door, interrupting my concentration.
“Get outa here!” Stacey yelled. “And don’t open that door!”
“Hey, you two!” I interjected. There’s nothing like playing surgeon and housemother at the same time. Then, to Leanne, “I’ll be finished in about ten minutes. Whatever you need will just have to wait.”
“She’s clueless.” Stacey laughed again.
I returned to my task, eager to finish the procedure and wake up my patient. Amputating an ear does not rank as an overly difficult procedure in most cases, but then again, Mickey was not like most of my patients.
I had first met Mickey the mouse about one month earlier. He had come in with his family, Mrs. Davenport and her two children, Donnie and Leslie, ages six and eight, respectively.
It was not uncommon for people to bring such unusual pets to see me. I had established a reputation as an “exotics expert,” “exotic” generally referring to any animal that is not a dog or a cat. Since most veterinary schools teach only “domestic” animal medicine—meaning, dog, cat, horse, cow, and other farm animals—most veterinarians have neither the training nor the desire to treat nontraditional pets such as mice, birds, reptiles, and the like. In fact, I had such an unusual client-pet constituency that people would often hang out in our reception area just to see what would walk, crawl, slither, or fly in for a doctor’s visit.
Mickey had been scratching nonstop for almost a week, little Leslie had dutifully reported. She got the creature from a school classroom project where students were encouraged to take pets home and learn how to care for them.
At our first encounter Mrs. Davenport had expressed concern over money. She wanted to help Mickey but couldn’t afford a large vet bill. I have always been a sucker for schoolchildren and animals. I believe that pets are an integral part of a child’s life. Not only is the human-animal bond important, but the relationship also