I Hate Visiting the Doctor

I Hate Visiting the Doctor

Clyde had an appointment at the vet the other day, and what a fiasco it was. His people had to drag him out of the car by his neck, and getting him through the front door was more like a stroll to the guillotine. It’s not like that was the worst part, either. He’s a bristling, slobbering mess in the waiting room, so much that other clients cross to the other side to avoid him, and the exam room itself? That is an experience Clyde’s owners find too painful to discuss. He hates going to the doctor. We sometimes refer to this kind of visit as a “rodeo,” but various other terms have also been employed.

No, it’s not good for the hospital personnel, who are taking on a massive risk of injury when they approach such a panicked pet with the intent of helping him. But equally important is the fact that it’s not good for your pet. To be perfectly clear, “bad” clinic behaviors originate from fear and are not intentional. Sadly, they almost never improve as the pet ages. The resulting stress has a negative impact on your pet’s health (yes, that is objectively measurable in a variety of ways) and diminishes the amount of care he can reasonably receive from the medical team. What if he is really in trouble and too dangerous (frightened) to be treated for his illness?

If you live with a dog like Clyde, please don’t be ashamed of him. Do be completely honest. Dangerous patients are an inevitable and acceptable part of your veterinarian’s day, but he will not be very forgiving if you try to conceal or deny your pet’s previous interpersonal conflicts. Remember that the medical team has your dog’s best interests in mind, and that they have learned a great deal from many interactions with patients who act like Clyde. Try to work with their suggestions, and resist the urge to be offended on your pet’s behalf. Remain calm, regardless of what happens. In the veterinary world, uncooperative patients are not that memorable until their owners also become uncooperative.

Clyde is actually my nephew, and his name has not been changed to conceal his identity. He is going to start a workout regimen where he visits the clinic regularly, to stroll around the parking lot and approach the front door (armed with a jar of peanut butter, of course). He is always going to request his favorite doctor and staff member when making an appointment. He is going to go shopping for his very own muzzle, which he will look at and play with for a couple weeks. When he’s good and ready, he’ll try on his new gear, at home, using bits of diced, cooked chicken to celebrate this momentous occasion. He will get the very best treats whenever he wears the muzzle calmly, to remind him—and any eyewitnesses—that he is doing an amazing job, trying his very best to confront a colossal fear of the doctor’s office. Good luck, Clyde!

Dr M.S. Regan