In Part I, we explored the fears of animal-related physical harm that veterinarians may encounter. Although not a particularly upbeat subject, most practitioners do accept that such fears exist and that they merit resolution. However, as disconcerting as fears related to any physical attack may be, those concerning animal-related emotional assaults may be equally troubling and have similarly negative effects on the quality of clinician, client, and animal interaction.
“You must be joking,” chuckles Dr. Radke for whom the idea of such an attack has no meaning.
However, ask Dr. Radke about any shift in human perception regarding the optimum human-animal relationship and he will readily agree that such has occurred, particularly among his own companion animal clients. For example, his awareness that increasing numbers of clients perceive their pets as cherished family members strikes Dr. Radke as a beneficial elevation in animal status compared with how people have viewed dogs and cats in the past.
At the same time, most veterinarians also acknowledge that, regardless of any public relations and economic benefits for his/her practice associated with these more intimate human-animal relationships, any positive emotions that motivate clients to make such family connections may be accompanied by a large dose of ignorance regarding the animal’s individual and species needs. When that occurs, resolving problems that arise when the animals’ needs conflict with the emotional ones their owners project upon them can be very challenging.
But what about any emotional component that Dr. Radke or his younger colleague, Dr. Davenport, injects into their practice philosophy? It goes without saying that practitioners know, or should know, more about the species-specific needs of their animal patients than the average client. However, that does not prevent some veterinarians from projecting emotion-based beliefs onto individual animals and, by extension, their owners. When something about the animal violates those beliefs, these practitioners may feel threatened, and when that occurs, it is easy to see the animal and/or the client as the source of the problem rather than the beliefs themselves.
One example of this phenomenon is the deeply entrenched belief that canine and feline castration and ovariohysterectomy yield universally positive benefits for the animal, as well as society. More often than not, this belief is accompanied by another: failure to spay or neuter a dog or cat will inevitably lead to serious behavioral and/or medical problems. Some practitioners believe this so strongly that clients who do not comply with this belief may be labeled “irresponsible.” Additionally, discussion of evidence that challenges any aspect of the belief is verboten.
Consider how Drs. Radke and Davenport’s beliefs on this subject affect their relationship with clients such as the Sontaggs and their well-behaved, healthy, but intact dog, Homer. First, both practitioners dread seeing them.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if the dog were a purebred,” complains Dr. Radke. “But he’s just a mongrel.”
“It makes me so angry, I just want to grab Homer and rush him into surgery and do the job,” adds Dr. Davenport.
In this case, the animal, in and of himself, does not physically threaten the veterinarians in any way. Quite the contrary, were their beliefs regarding his reproductive status not an issue, they would consider him an ideal patient. Similarly, they would consider the Sontaggs among their best clients because they religiously bring Homer in for routine checkups and, when any problems arise, they scrupulously follow directions when treatment is required. But, because dog and clients challenge the veterinarians’ beliefs regarding the benefits of castration, they find it difficult to interact with animal and owners in a meaningful way. Worse, they may even find themselves hoping the dog will develop testicular cancer, aggression, or some other problem they believe they can link directly to his intact status, to further reinforce their belief. In their more rational moments, Drs. Radke and Davenport realize how irrational such thoughts are and that an intact companion animal poses no threat to them. And yet...
Another example of emotional attack that practitioners may fear can be traced to unrealistic, more romanticized views of what constitutes a quality human-animal relationship. For example, even though few veterinarians question the appeal of an idyllic theory in which animals always willingly do whatever humans ask, in exchange for a bit of food or kind words, those with a broad range of experience recognize that a particular animal may not share this view for multiple reasons. In that case, the ideal approach may precipitate a less-than-ideal response.
Like many true believers, Dr. Davenport refuses to accept this possibility...until the fateful day she meets an animal that is totally unimpressed by all her sweet cajoling and treats. Once again, the animal, a quiet, reserved gelding, has no desire to physically harm her. However, his repeated attempts to retreat from the veterinarian’s ever more determined sunny offerings make it clear that her approach is upsetting rather than calming him. Because this is the opposite of what she believes her response should communicate, she feels threatened. When that occurs, her response to the animal’s failure to comply with her beliefs is an unfortunately not uncommon one.
“There’s something wrong with that animal!” she tells his owner with certainty. Depending on how threatened she feels, she may even allude to serious behavioral and/or medical problems.
In reality, though, she has no way of knowing this because she did not examine the animal or review its history. Her “diagnosis” is based strictly on the fact that the animal attacked her emotion- rather than knowledge-based belief that her all-positive approach was guaranteed to elicit an equally positive response from all normal animals. By her definition, if that response does not occur, there must be something wrong with the animal. In the worst case scenario, not only does the veterinarian imply that there is something wrong with the animal, she also implies that there is something wrong with the relationship between the animal and the owners.
“I’ve never seen an animal that doesn’t respond to lots of loving or treats,” she tells the gelding’s owners. “Well, except for those that have been abused.”
And just as practitioners may use special words, colors, or codes on hospital records to signal that an animal poses a physical threat, some may share their negative observations about animals and clients whom they perceive as threatening their beliefs with their coworkers and colleagues, both within and outside the practice.
“I know the Hubners’ horse looks normal and their kids adore him, but I think there’s something funny going on at their place,” she tells Dr. Radke. “Why else would he refuse treats?”
Notice that the issue here is not whether one agrees with Drs. Radke or Davenport’s beliefs regarding spay and neuter, all-positive training, or any other veterinary practice or philosophy. The issue is in perceiving any client- or animal-related belief as both static and inviolate, and then feeling threatened when a particular client or animal challenges it. What comprised state-of-the-art technology 50 years ago is often laughable now. So many “gold standards” of treatment and practice philosophy have come and gone that the only thing one can reasonably say about them is that the sequence will continue.
At the same time, an interesting paradox exists relative to the strength of beliefs versus any challenge to them: the more knowledge-based the belief, the less negative the response to any challenge. The more knowledge-based the belief, the more awareness that a spectrum of legitimate responses may exist. That, in turn, allows practitioners to think outside the limits of their belief-box and appreciate the whole picture.
“I still believe that spay and neuter is the best means of population control for dogs and cats,” admits Dr. Radke, “but I also can understand why some people have concerns relative to their specific animals. The Sontaggs are good clients and Homer is a great dog and it’s working for them so that’s fine with me.”
“And I still believe that all-positive training is the best way to go, but sometimes it doesn’t work, and that’s OK, too,” says Dr. Davenport after exploring the topic more objectively.
What about those veterinarians who cannot accept any differences in beliefs? In those cases, it would be better if the veterinarian referred the client to a colleague who either did share the client’s views, or at least was tolerant of them. What practitioners do not want to do is engage in power struggles in which they attempt to force their beliefs on their clients. Although practitioners may rationalize these attempts as being “for the good of the animal,” this approach merely consumes time and energy that should be devoted to ensuring a quality relationship with the animal and client.
Considering that veterinarians with all their training can find themselves assaulted by such fears, it is not surprising that some clients may fall prey to them, too. In Part III, we will explore how client fears also may sabotage quality communication and the treatment process.