Janet Jones, Jasper’s pet doctor and owner of the Jasper Veterinary Clinic, always arrives to work shortly after 9 a.m.
On the Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she’s in town—Tuesdays and Thursdays she is in Valemount at her satellite practice—her appointments start at 9:15.
On March 2 she gets in just on time. She has two surgeries scheduled for today, but no one has shown up yet.
While she is getting organized, her three Registered Alberta Veterinary Technologists have already started ramping up for the day. Kathleen Bergeron, Nicole Klopfenstein and Andrea Gordon rotate duties every couple of days. One helps with appointments, one works the reception desk, and one helps Jones with surgeries and the like.
As Jones gives a quick tour of the clinic, the RATS, as they call themselves, are making follow-up calls, ordering supplies and drugs, prepping work areas and doing initial consultations with animals as they filter through the door.
By 9:45 everyone has shown up, and the front reception area is a flurry of activity. Half a dozen people and their pets are scattered throughout, and the occasional yip or squeal floats through the clinic.
Jones is in the examination room with Rosebud, a miniature Labradoodle, who’s shaking in her owners arms.
Rosebud is at the clinic for a routine vaccination, but before she gives it, Jones has to give the dog a physical exam.
“She knows what’s coming. She knows I’m going to poke and prod her,” Jones says in a sympathetic voice as she kneels beside Rosebud. She pats the dog’s head, and coos to her: “hey Sweetie, shall we listen to your heart?”
In an interview at the end of her day, Jones said that some animals that come in for an examination are visibly nervous. She said she and her team have different techniques to try and help alleviate that, but some animals shake uncontrollably no matter what they do.
And while pets like Rosebud might just shake and shy away, some can get aggressive and lash out, so Jones and her staff are always careful with a nervous dog.
Back in the clinic, Jones is finishing her exam. After demonstrating how to properly clean Rosebud’s ears, she notices some tartar buildup on Rosebud’s teeth, which she says is a bit of a concern because of her fairly young age.
She explained that the best defense is regular brushing, but when Rosebud’s owner admits that she’s not the kind of person who brushes her dog’s teeth, Jones suggests a tartar fighting dog food instead.
“Obviously brushing is the best, but we don’t want to be unrealistic about our expectations,” she says, giving the owner a free bag of special food to try with Rosebud at home.
Later, she explained that it’s not her job to tell people what is best for their pets, but rather to give them a frank overview of what is going on, and help them come to the best decision for themselves. This is true of small things like whether or not to brush a dog’s teeth, but also for more serious decisions about major surgeries.
“My job is to educate people and help them make informed choices about their animal’s health. So I have recommendations about things, and I definitely have things that I feel very strongly are important to do—and then if an animal is sick, then there are certain things we have to intervene with to make them better—but a lot of what I do is talk to people and help them understand what’s going on, and what we need to do and why we need to do it and what the expectations are,” she said.
While part of that is to ensure that people have some agency in how their pet's medical care is provided, another part is to ensure that Jones can provide the best care to the most people. That means offering different options for surgeries and procedures, to fit as many people’s needs as possible.
When a small dog named Oliver comes in a little later suffering from bowel problems, Jones gives her owner the choice of doing complex or more simple blood work, at two different costs. Similarly, when a dog named Max arrives with some lumps on his back, Jones provides the owner an overview of which ones are most important to remove.
By 10:30 most of Jones’ early appointments are finished, and she begins some of the surgeries she has for the day. As she is shaving and disinfecting the areas around Max’s lumps, she explains that in her job she really has to be ready to do almost anything.
“We’re dentists, we’re surgeons, we’re anesthesiologists, we’re counsellors: we do it all,” she laughs. She said it can keep the job exciting, but also means that she is often put in situations where she has to do the best she can with limited knowledge.
So when someone comes in with a sick snake, for example, she has to use what limited knowledge she has to make a diagnosis.
“Sometimes you’re dealing with things you don’t have a lot of experience with, but you just have to do the best you can,” she says.
Max has been shaking violently since he walked in the door, and it takes both Bergeron and Animal Care Assistant Cynthia Muscat to hold him down on the table, as Jones works with a scalpel and thumb forceps to cut away his lumps.
As she works, a high-pitched, desperate yipping starts up from the examination room. Klopfenstein and Gordon are trying to get a blood sample from Oliver, and it’s proving difficult.
It’s hard to hear an animal in pain, especially if you’re not used to it, but even Jones (who’s been in the business for 30 years) doesn’t love the sound.
She said that she knows sometimes the things she and her team do make the animals uncomfortable, but that they will also make them feel better in the long run. But, she admits, her job can still take a toll.
“I mean there are some things with this job. You have to euthanize animals; animals die for various reasons. You have to upset animals and people. But every day we get to help people and animals: every day. Even it it’s something minor, we still get to say that we helped.
“And then every once in a while you literally get to save a life, and it’s hard to explain how good that can feel.”
After Max is taken care of, it’s time for Jones to move on to the day’s major surgery. A small black cat is in to be spayed, and there’s a lot of prep before the procedure can begin.
First, she has to be put to sleep, which Bergeron does by wrapping her in a small kitty bag (she calls it a “little kitty burrito”) to help her feel secure and placing a mask—which pumps gas—to her face. It takes about five minutes for the drugs to take effect and then Bergeron and Jones attach a monitor to the cat’s tongue, an IV to her arm, purge her bladder and finally shave and disinfect her abdomen. They then fold her up in a towel and take her to the operating room.
Once on the table, they tie the cat’s arms and legs to ensure her safety on the operating table. With her tongue hanging out and her limbs tied, she looks unnerving, until Jones covers everything except the area she will be operating on with a blue sheet.
With small incisions and deft use of forceps and clamps, Jones starts the surgery. She pulls organs out of the incision to examine them, and clamps areas to restrict blood flows. The entire time, Bergeron is monitoring the cat’s vital signs and recording values.
Earlier, Jones had explained that everything they do at the clinic is diligently recorded. If someone calls and they give advice over the phone, that goes in the animal’s file. Any medication advice also goes in. And while surgeries are talking place, a minute-by-minute record of the animal’s health is taken.
“It’s kind of the bane of my existence,” Jones joked, noting that it can take her 30-60 minutes a day to finish all her paperwork.
But while performing surgery, she isn’t thinking about paperwork: she’s just about to cut and remove the cat’s ovaries and uterus. The room is hot and the smell of disinfectant is overpowering, and for anyone not entirely used to a surgery setting it can be stomach-turning.
Not for Jones, however. She finishes the surgery by stitching up the cat with a three-layer closure.
The rest of the day she has a few more checkups and procedures, including a number of routine vaccinations. A sick cat was on IV fluids all day, and she had to clip the toenails of a dog after they grew into the pad of its foot.
It wasn’t an overly busy day, but it wasn’t completely dead either. All in all, Jones said, she felt good about it.
“This is a profession that can be all-encompassing. It’s definitely a profession where you have to give a lot, but you get so much in return as well,” she said.
Trevor Nichols
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