Max Cryer busts some myths about animals

Fish have memories, people!

In general we're a pretty intelligent species, but some of our beliefs are completely unfounded - yet we hold onto them out of habit or simply because our experience fails to challenge them. Some are harmless - but some - like the old "goldfish have a three second memory" have profound welfare implications for the subject of that myth. 

For this reason we leapt at the opportunity to interview Max Cryer, author of Is it True? The Facts Behind the Things We Have Been Told. It isn't just about animals - in fact Cryer is something of a polymath, looking at myths around social history, language, politics, music and the natural world.

Cryer has had an interesting career. He's been a TV presenter, school teacher, performed opera in London and caberet in Vegas, and written numerous books, so we leapt at the opportunity to ask him about animal-related myths.

Max Cryer, also author of Who Said That First?

Aside from being an author and entertainer you've had a varied career. Is there a common thread?

I discovered that moving from being an entertainer into being an author has a link : both are concerned with engaging and interesting an audience.  In my case I spent ten years in between the one thing and the other, as a television producer of academic shows – so I learned a great deal about research and tight organisation. And a writer needs both those.

What are some common myths about animals?

Bears don’t lick their newborn into shape, crocodiles do sometimes have moisture coming from their  eyes - but is isn’t weeping and certainly has nothing to do with sorrow.  Swans do not sing before they die. Shakespeare and Keats got one thing wrong – they both wrote about  female nightingales singing,  but the females don’t sing, only  the males do.  St Bernard dogs did not carry barrels of brandy – that’s a myth invented by an eccentric British painter (Edwin  Landseer) who painted a St. Bernard in the snow – and by a whim,  added a little barrel of brandy round the dog’s neck. Which wasn’t true, but the myth took hold and became a legend which thousands of people believed. And ostriches do not bury their heads in the sand and never  have.

Myths are everywhere and often we accept them as truth. How do they come about and how come we all accept them so blindly?

In general, myths are spread by people telling each other what someone else told them...without anybody checking back to see if what they’re told was true. It seems to be a quirk of human nature that we believe what we were told first – and are often unwilling to have that corrected later.

Many folk tales and ‘beliefs’ come from people’s grandmothers – who are often repeating what their grandmother said. 

Alas, granny was often on shaky ground – but even so the myth spreads, eventually gets into print, and nowadays can spread round the world in half an hour on Internet.

Sometimes a myth dates back to just one person writing one line in an ancient  book. For instance ‘crocodile tears’ – meaning weeping insincerely in falsified sorrow, was first mentioned in English by Sir John Mandeville in the year 1400. He wrote about ‘cockadrilles’ : “These serpents slay men, and then weeping, eat them.” The image has stayed in use for over 600 years.

And in 79AD the Roman writer known as Pliny the Elder wrote that if ostriches  see a predator  they bury their head and then “imagine that the whole of their body is concealed.” Belief in that one line has lasted nearly two thousand years into the present day. But while ostriches do lie low when they need to feel safe, they do not ‘bury their heads.’

Crocodile basking.

Can some myths about animals be dangerous or harmful?

Many myths about animals are harmless – because the animals are largely  unaware of beliefs which people have about them, and they just get on doing their own thing.  So myths about bears and crocodiles and swans are relatively unimportant and not really harmful to those creatures.

Whereas the practice of docking animal tails – often for vanity ‘cosmetic’ reasons – is cruel.  

And sometimes a belief can be limiting. For instance, because cats are perceived as ‘solitary’ creatures, owners of a 10th floor apartment believe that their pet cat is happy there living by itself, and it’s OK that it never gets out and about. But cats like to roam, and they also like  to ‘socialise’ in their own mysterious ways. So committing cat to solitary confinement is not kind...

Thank you Max. The book is certainly full of interesting myths, many of which we admit to previously subscribing to.

Max's last point provides plenty of food for thought. At SAT we think cats can be kept in apartments but appropriate environmental enrichment is essential in keeping them sane - consistent and abundant interaction with humans, an indoor garden or safe balconey access etc. There's not much point in having any pet if you simply isolate it in a tower without paying any attention to his or her quality of life. 

What does your cat do to you while you are sleeping?

Have your toes ever had the crazy kitten treatment through the bedclothes?

The title of this post sounds a little sinister, and if you've ever had the joy of being woken by the sensation of sharp kitten teeth or claws through the sheets and into your toes, I can't blame you for reading it that way. 

But in a case reported in the Medical Journal of Australia, and re-reported in the Australian Veterinary Journal by Anne Jackson, nocturnal cat attacks proved (indirectly) life-saving. 

A 72-year-old gent presented to his GP with multiple scratches on his face and nose due to "repeated savage night-time attacks perpetrated by none other than his trusty loyal cat."

Instead of blaming the cat for being a jerk, the GP asked: WHY would this animal attack a sleeping person? "Perhaps," the authors write, "the cat was witnessing something which it deemed required intervention."

I love their thinking.

The owner had a history of coronary heart disease (stable), type 2 diabetes mellitus, diabetic neuropathy and hypertension. The medical history of the cat is not divulged in the case report.

The GP ordered an overnight polysomnographic assessment which found that the owner suffered obstructive sleep apnoea and bradycardia with 7 second cardiac pauses. That's a long time between heartbeats.

Perhaps the cat was sensing the heart had stopped and attempting revival (the authors suggest it was performing "C(at)PR") by slapping his owner in the face. Once the condition was treated (with continuous positive airway pressure) the nocturnal assaults abated. 

It would have been great if, along with the polysomnograph, someone could have hooked up a webcam and filmed the cat to work out if the attacks corresponded with the cardiac pauses.

The report itself is light-hearted, though the case is real, and it does suggest that the cat was responding to physiological changes in the patient. I don't know that much of a conclusion can be drawn from the motivation from the cat - was he really reviving the owner, or just testing if he was alive? 

I know that if I sleep in some days I cop a closed paw in the face, with the claws gradually emerging if I fail to respond. Perhaps wearing a ski-mask to bed isn't advisable after all. It might prevent the odd pre-dawn facial clawing (and it would certainly prevent facial injuries due to mistaken-identity incidents as previously described), but it may unwittingly "mask" sleep apnoea.

But seriously, animals are sensitive to subtle physiological changes that we aren't, and their behaviour - while at first seeming irrational - is something we should seek to understand. The GP in this case acted on the assumption that the cat was rational - and whoopah - life-saving diagnosis. N may equal 1 in this case, but its a nice example of productive anthropomorphism. 

Reference

Seligman WH & Manuel A (2014) The cat and the nap. Medical Journal of Australia 200(4):229.

Learn about animal welfare and behaviour - for free

Do you recognise this face? This is Sofi (poster-pup from Monday's post) when she was a youngster.

The academic field of animal welfare and behaviour is growing, thank goodness, and its not something that only veterinary students can learn about.

Online education platform Coursera is offering a free five-week course on animal welfare and behaviour in July this year - and anyone can enrol. The course will be delivered by academics from the University of Edinburgh and Scotland's Rural College.

I love the idea behind Coursera - its a platform that partners with reputable universities and other organisations to provide free courses, the aim being to empower everyone in the world to get a world-class education to improve their lives. In this case, it might just improve the lives of non-humans too.

You can sign up here. 

[Fortunately this wasn't around when I was studying, I would have been tempted to enrol in so many courses - like this one on household poisonings, or this one on antimicrobial stewardship, or this one on preventing chronic pain - imagine if we all did these courses instead of watched TV!][ Oh, and if you want to enrol in a course on what it takes to become a vet, check this out].

Are Aussie vets old school?

Pets have moved from the backyard to the bedroom...some blend in seamlessly!

As someone with a strong interest in the human animal bond, both personally and professionally (I lecture about this at Sydney University), I was stunned to read the following statement in an article in The Australian by Tim Boreham (read the full article here):

Veterinary entrepreneur Glen Richards reckons that most of the country’s 9000 vets “don’t appreciate the dog has gone from the backyard to the bedroom’’ — a reference to the increasingly rarefied position of our furry friends on the social stratum.

This means a profound shift in the expectations of their owners, who are willing to pay for more complex procedures to salve the wounds of their creatures great and small.

“I reckon half the industry is practising as if it were the 1970s and 1980s,’’ says the 49-year-old co-founder of the listed vet consolidator Greencross — and the proud owner of a Bernese mountain dog, a Maltese terrier, two Devon rex cats and five horses.

Them's strong words. Is it true that 4500 vets in this country are really ye olde school? What does it mean? Here are my thoughts.

[I'm going to go out on a limb here, as I graduated in the mid-noughties and did not practice in this era, but I'd talked to many vets over the years who did].

Well, in the 1970s and 80s most animals had a much more limited lifespan. Poor animal control, the absence of leash laws and microchipping meant that most pets were passively acquired, as strays, many suffered major trauma on roads, and an absence of flea control meant that the "flea bags" were, on the whole, relegated permanently to the outdoors. Digital x-rays, pulse oximetry, radioactive iodine, advanced imaging - these are relatively new.

Back in ye olde days, if an animal had a terminal illness, very few options were available - the treatment for cancer was often euthanasia. There were few drugs to choose from. And pain relief? Well, non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs for animals were registered in the 1990s! (And post-operative pain was considered by a very few old skool vets as a handy way to ensure animals kept quiet after surgery). Anaesthetics were archaic, continuing education was something people did to score a skiing holiday in Aspen (veterinary boards only started mandating on this in the noughties). 

We've moved on big time and I would have to reject the claim that half the vets in the country have not. I suspect that Glen Richards would also heavily qualify his statement if challenged. What I think he means is that the standard of care we can provide is much higher, and that pet owners expect that high standard - but perhaps too often, some vets (surely not half) provide less than the gold standard. 

Having visited veterinary clinics in numerous other countries, and around Australia, I am confident in saying that the standard of veterinary care provided here is generally excellent. There are the odd exceptions to the rule, but they hardly constitute 50 per cent of the profession!

And...and here I go out on another limb...not everyone wants the gold standard. For various reasons. Money is one. But we also have to take the animal into account. For example, when my late cat Lil became ill, we had to factor her goes-feral-every-time-a-vet-approaches attitude into the treatment plan. And the ability of the owner to deliver treatment (if your cat punctures your arm with her canine teeth everytime you try to administer a pill, that's a strong disincentive to medicate the cat). Not every owner is able to administer an insulin injection twice a day to a diabetic patient.

As a vet I want to deliver the best possible care to every patient, but sometimes the "gold standard" isn't the best for that patient, outcomes for treatment are never guaranteed, and providing options to clients is vital. Someone can be closely bonded to their cat, but that doesn't mean they can afford potentially curative brain surgery to remove a meningioma. That's something we have to live with and work around. 

Best practice is about delivering appropriate, where possible evidenced-based care, to the patient in front of you - taking into account various contextual limitations. And the profession takes this seriously. This year the Australian Vet Association's conference is themed around the question "What's best practice?".

And...even though we have excellent parasite control and high-profile media vets sipping cappucinos with their pooches in the eye of the public, not every pet has made the literal move from backyard to bedroom. The social status of animals remains controversial and hotly contested. The values of our clients are heterogenous.

Are Aussie vets really old school or in denial about the human animal bond?

Does performing euthanasia contribute to suicide risk for veterinarians?

Euthanasia can take an emotional toll on vets.

Last week I interviewed one of the investigators of a study exploring the association between the frequency of euthanasia performed and depressed mood/suicide risk in veterinarians. I find this particularly interesting because vets have an increased suicide rate (reportedly 4x that of the general population) and according to investigator Dr Monique Crane, “it is generally believed that the key contributor to this behaviour is the euthanasia of animals.”

It’s a powerful argument. People become vets because they love animals, then they have a job which involves – to some degree or other – ending animal lives. That’s not what we signed up for!!!

But…while euthanasia can be stressful, emotionally taxing and a whole bucketful of other things this assumption didn't entirely ring true to me. So I was interested to find out about the research.

The investigators include a registered psychologist (Crane) – who researches occupational mental health and resilience; a former vet now medical researcher (Professor Jacqueline Phillips) and a research masters student (Lily Tran).

For this study, published in the Journal of Occupational Health Psychology, the team surveyed 540 vets ranging from 23 to 74 years in age.

Not surprisingly, they found that the more one performed euthanasia in an average working week, the greater the risk of depressed feelings.

BUT what they found was euthanasia frequency only explained a small amount of variance in depressed mood.

“This indicates that the performance of euthanasia is a very minor player in depression experienced by veterinarians and other factors are likely to make much more of a contribution.”

And perhaps the most startling finding is that the more euthanasia performed in the average working week, the LESS suicide risk in depressed vets. So, instead of contributing to a higher suicide risk, a high frequency of euthanasia was protective against suicide.

How can it be? I think we need to remember first why we perform euthanasia. In most cases it is to end suffering. There are of course the “convenience” or “objectionable” euthanasia – I would argue that these don’t qualify for the term euthanasia (that is a whole other discussion). But generally, although it is very sad, we do it because we are doing some good. Giving an animal a controlled, peaceful end. While it is heartbreaking, it is also often a time when we are able to support our clients.

I’ve shed plenty of tears at work, for animals, for their owners, for the loss and grief I see, but bringing about a peaceful death is a meaningful and worthy task.

Personally I feel that this is a privilege – a chance to be there for an animal, and often the family, when there is a need for comfort. Unlike managing a complex medical or surgical case, the outcome is certain. Owners are often very frank about their bond with their animal at this time. It is a reminder of the value of life, and why we do what we do. People often say “this must be the worst part of your job”, but it isn’t. For example, I find intractable suffering much harder to cope with.

So what are the other factors? The study also found that vets working in an area they perceived was a low socioeconomic area were much more likely to commit suicide. There are a gazillion potential reasons for this but further studies are needed: maybe these vets work longer hours. Maybe treatment recommendations are declined more frequently. Maybe companion animals aren’t valued as members of the family. Maybe there is a higher after-hours workload. Less support staff. Low pay. Do they percieve they work in a low SES area because they are seeing everything through depression's inevitable poo-coloured glasses? Is job stress the final straw for those with problems in their personal and home lives? We really don’t know.

What we do know is that we do need to examine this further so we can support each other.

If you are heading to the AVA Annual Conference (May 25-30 in Perth) it’s worth a visit to the Wellness Stand. Not only can you have your physical health checked (BMI, BP, HR, even a Q-fever test), you can also complete a questionnaire to determine how stressed you are.

The conference will also see the debut of the Australian Veterinary Orchestra, which will be raising funds for the Veterinary Benevolent Fund and was actually borne from the need to find a creative outlet. Read more here.

The AVA also runs a counselling service which members call call anytime on 1800 337 068.

Lifeline: 131 114 Beyondblue: 1300 224 636

Reference

Tran L, Crane MF & Phillips JK (2014) The distinct role of performing euthanasia on depression and suicide in veterinarians. Journal of Occupational Health Psychology Online First Publication, March 17, 2014.http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/a0035837

Royal dog Lupo steals scene in new family portrait

This weekened we attended a surprise 80th birthday party. As you can see, Sofi loved the speeches.

This year we attended a surprise 80th birthday party. (Someone thoughtfully asked, "is a surprise 80th really such a good idea?" - but I can now reply that it was a terrific success, no ambulances were required). 

If you've not been living under a rock this weekend you must have seen the latest official portrait of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge with eight-month-old human offspring George, and their cocker spaniel Lupo. I'm not going to lie - I find this family fascinating for so many reasons, least of all every milestone seems to be heralded by a major television event that seems like as good an excuse as any to have a gathering and drink tea from fancy cups.

If you've not seen the photo or want to view it again, click here. It was taken by portrait photographer Jason Bell, whom I was fascinated to learn decided to be a photographer when he was studying politics, philosophy and economics at Oxford University (I decided to be a vet when I was studying philosophy - at least in part because the uni careers advisor suggested that I was now qualified to be a bank teller. I wonder if someone told Jason Bell the same thing? Nevermind - he now lives between New York and London).

Framed by a nice window in a rather ordinary brick wall, critics have gushed about the family's "effortless informality". 

But as a companion animal vet, what I love about this photo is the decision to feature Lupo, the family dog, front and centre. In fact, since baby George is looking at him and smiling, Lupo is really the focal point. 

The dog is part of the family. Indeed, Lupo's charmed life has been documented by the English media. He is often seen sniffing about at Royal gatherings, he has been witnessed "hoovering up" sausages at charity events (we can infer that he presumably does not suffer from raging pancreatitis, otherwise I suspect a Royal bodyguard would be required to dive on the sausages) and was even spotted under the table in a fancy resteraunt, where normally only assistance dogs are allowed, during a recent Christmas Party. 

I love the fact that the Royals appear to be role-modelling the benefits of public access for dogs, although there might be a less heroic reason for Lupo's common appearances: William recently complained that he chews the furniture when left alone for five minutes. Leaving him home at the palace could be a tad costly.

Getting back to the photo, it has raised some controversy within my circle of vet friends. Should the Duke and Duchess role model such casual nonchalance about Lupo's face being so close to the baby?

George looks happy, his parents look comfortable, but if you look closely, Lupo has a touch of the crazy eyes. Behaviourist and author of Tell Your Dog You're Pregnant, Lewis Kirkham, noted that Lupo appears to be potentially avoiding George's direct (and possibly very confronting) stare. Others have suggested that Lupo's closed mouth and averted gaze point to a dog that could snap at any moment.

I think its a very tough call. I suspect that Lupo is looking at someone to the left of the photographer who is waving a sausage or toy madly, possibly calling Lupo's name in a high-pitched semi-hysterical voice whilst dancing on the spot to get him to look. (If you've ever tried to take a photo of a dog where you wanted him or her to look at the camera, you will understand how necessary this absurd behaviour can be).

The truth is that the Duke and Duchness were there, we weren't. I think it's fantastic that they, like so many other families, include non-humans in their family photos. I would like to think that William, holding Lupo and looking relaxed, is monitoring the tension in Lupo's body, picking up behavioural cues, and that Kate is ready to grab George's hands if they start to wander in the direction of Lupo's face.

UPDATE: Check out this fantastic post from Julie Hecht and Mia Cobb's Do You Believe in Dog? blog about babies and dogs here.

Phil came along to the surprise 80th and sat on the guest of honour. But in order to get him to look at the camera (and not at the cake on the table) I had to wave a piece of cheese maniacally beside the camera. Okay so he doesn't quite have crazy eyes (he just woke up) but you get my point.