A VETERINARIAN’S LIFE
One-Eyed Annie
The Peruvian pup who stole our hearts
In 2008 I traveled to Peru to do a week-long surgical clinic.
These trips had become a family affair and on this one, I was joined by my husband, two of my children: twenty-three-year-old Robin, twelve-year-old Maddie, and a vet tech from my hospital in Canada.
Our host, Rosemary, lived in a small coastal village.
The local residents had been told that they could bring their pets in the morning to be spayed or neutered, and pick them up later.
But it was the strays in the nearby town, that Rosemary was truly motivated to help.
Each morning, her small army of volunteers, mostly cousins, would take turns driving through the streets in a van filled with cages.
The idea was to scoop up as many dogs and cats as possible and drop them off for surgery. At the end of the day, once awake and recovered, they would be returned to their home town.
As part of each procedure, I would notch the patient's ear so, in the future, it would be easy to identify the ones that had already been fixed.
After a grueling trip from Toronto- two flights, and a three-hour bus ride- the five of us dropped our bags and looked around at our lodgings.
It was a large compound, with a dirt courtyard and a few sad trees.
Our temporary home came with resident pets: four tortoises, the handyman’s horse, and a rooster who would wake us at dawn every day.
There were two sleeping cabins, an outdoor toilet, and a cold shower. The girls picked the one with more beds and Tom and I were secretly pleased to discover that ours had a hidden hot water supply!
A separate kitchen with electricity would be used for surgeries. This was a big improvement over my two previous trips to Africa, where the operating room was often a wooden table set up outdoors.
Breakfast and lunch were to be brought in and served al fresco. Dinner was a slightly more formal affair at Rosemary’s house, down the street.
Access was through a single, red door and a high wood and thatch wall blocked out any view of the street or the nearby Pacific Ocean.
We all laughed nervously, joking that it felt a bit like a prison.
As we settled in, Rosemary pulled me aside.
A neighbor had dropped off a dog that morning with a horribly damaged eye. Would I mind having a look?
The right eye of this little dog was beyond repair. Rosemary was not surprised and thought euthanasia was best, it would be impossible to find a home for her.
Meanwhile, my daughters had been holding and comforting the little female while we discussed her future
“Mom, she looks exactly like, Annie!”, they pointed out.
One of the perks of owning my own clinic was that my kids and dogs, and those of the staff were welcome to come to work.
There was a pack of canine misfits, along with three clinic cats who spent their days on or behind the front desk. The four-legged receptionists' never failed to bring a smile to everyone’s face.
Annie was a toothless Pekinese with a long tongue that hung out the left side of her mouth. Her comical appearance and irrepressible spirit made her a favorite with both staff and clients.
That sealed the deal. My first act as a veterinarian in South America was not going to be putting an animal to sleep!
I explained to our host that enucleation, eye removal, was an excellent alternative. A pet with reduced or even no vision still has a great life.
“Just don’t move the furniture!”, was always my light-hearted advice back home when an owner got the news that their pet was blind.
Rosemary reluctantly agreed and I found myself gloved-up, doing surgery, only a few hours after arriving in the country.
Our first patient needed antibiotics and other post-op care so we set her up in the girl's cabin. There was a large cage that could accommodate the cone she had to wear and a cozy bed.
But more often than not, come the morning, I would find her cuddled with my twelve-year-old.
She refused to eat the dry dog food I had brought. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I packed! It was our daily lunch of rice and fish that she was after, and no one minded sharing.
Needless to say, this little Peruvian pup blossomed with all the food and attention.
And, of course, the kids gave her a name — One-Eyed Annie
P.S. Just like the Canadian Annie, she became a favorite, even with Rosemary, who in the end, kept her for herself.
© Dr. Jackie Greenwood 2021
Hope you enjoyed this story :)
Thanks to ScienceDuuude for publishing my non-woodworking pieces!!!
And a shout out to my pal Franco Amati, another animal lover :)
In case you missed some of my other traveling vet stories:
