Bad Vets: Luke’s Story

In April, 2003, Luke, a black Labrador retriever died. He was only seven years old. Luke was a victim of the bad veterinarians whose job it was to cure him. Instead, Luke was tortured and killed. I call it murder.

I created this website after John F. Youngberg DVM killed our angora goat Lucy and her twin daughters Shilo and Phaedra through negligence and incompetence. However, if it hadn't been for Luke, and what his veterinarians did to him, I may have been naive about Youngberg's mistakes, perhaps looking upon that tragedy as an anomaly, some kind of "bad luck". But the sheer amount of traffic to this website, the sad, desperate searches that have led grief-stricken people here, and the amazing number of veterinarian horror stories you have shared with me, have all shown me that veterinarian incompetence and malpractice is a more than just a "common problem". It is a very real concern that we, as pet owners, must all be aware of and if possible, guard against. We must become more knowledgeable about veterinary medicine ourselves, because we can no longer trust the title of DVM. To blindly put our faith in a veterinarian solely because that individual graduated from vet school is foolish recklessness - and can be disastrous to your pet's health - or even his life. Something is drastically wrong with the veterinary medical industry when our animals are dying from the basic vaccinations given to protect them, or from simple, routine spaying operations, an overdose of anesthesia, an underdose of diagnostic technique, or just because your animal had the misfortune to get sick on a holiday or weekend. James Herriott - where are you when we need you?

Since you have come to this website, you probably have an understanding of how much we loved Luke, and what an important part he played in our lives. Of course he was not "just a dog" but a much-valued member of the family; as special as any of us. That is a given. He was a person who happened to be wearing a dog suit. There was nothing we wouldn't have done for him. You know what I'm talking about- or you wouldn't be here..

What makes Luke so special in the context of this website, however, is the number of veterinarians it took to kill him... There were many. In fact, at first I was filled with self-doubt. I worried about my own credibility in reporting my experiences. Would anyone believe that so many veterinarians could be so incompetent in one dog's case? Was it possible that I was projecting blame on innocent veterinarians to ease my own guilt that I shoulda, coulda, woulda done more for Luke?

Could lightening strike twice? Yes. Absolutely. It strikes all the time. There are many lightening bolts and a whole lot of storms going on. Not all of Luke's doctors were Bad Vets. But there definitely were no good ones. Luke could have been easily cured the very FIRST time he saw a vet, if only he'd had the proper culture performed. He could have had a normal, pain-free life. He could have enjoyed a normal life span. He didn't have to suffer. If only I could have found a good vet for him....

I wish you could have known Luke. You would have loved him. How could you not? Of all the dogs I've ever known, I could describe Luke as the "nicest". He was truly kind, unselfish, and completely honest. Even after all the medical horrors he went through, he maintained his happy disposition, his loving temperament, and his sense of humor. They could kill his body, but they couldn't break his spirit. He was the ultimate "Good Dog". They say "Bad things happen to good people". Well, bad things also happen to good dogs. Especially if they have Bad Vets...

Luke had a happy puppyhood, growing up on 85 acres in Minnesota. He was my constant companion, never more than a few feet away. He loved to ride in the car. He loved to play frisbee (and was very good at it too!). He loved to "go with", whether it was going to the barn to do chores or riding along to the feed store. He was a country bumpkin and the farm and his family were his whole world. He loved everybody: Jazzy, the Australian Shepherd who raised him; the goats, the horses, the cow, and the cats. He was so gentle that the chipmunks and squirrels would run around him without fear. Who could be afraid of this gentle giant? Luke was an extremely happy guy. He was involved. He loved life. He loved me.

And when Curt and I began dating, the man and the dog adopted each other. Some dogs resent it when a new man enters the family. Not Luke. When Curt and I married, we decided to bring Luke along on our honeymoon out west. We knew he wouldn't be happy if we left him. Even though he had never traveled more than a few miles from home, he was totally content and perfectly behaved. He didn't care where we went, as long as we were together. (He was awestruck by the Grand Canyon.)

For the first couple of years of his life, Luke received normal vet care - shots, worming, and the superficial physical exams that vets give during checkups. He was fit and strong with a shiny black coat and beautiful white teeth. When an ear infection flared up, I did what any responsible pet owner would do - I took him to the vet.

The first vet who saw Luke for his ear problem sold me some ear wash (liquid cleaner) and topical medication (liquid drops) and sent us home. His treatment didn't work. When I brought Luke back to him, this vet looked puzzled, and then gave me a mini-lesson on how to correctly clean my dog's ears and properly apply the medication as if I had been non-compliant or stupid. I assured him that I had indeed been caring for Luke's ears as per instructions and the medicine didn't work. But, apparently doubtful of my ability to tell the truth, this vet prescribed another course of the same exact treatment - even though it had not worked - and again sent me home.

It was no surprise that the treatment didn't work the second time either. Eventually, after continuing to "give the medicine a chance to work", I decided it was time for a second opinion.

SIDE TRIP!

I didn't trust Melco's ability due to a prior bad experience with one of my horses. The first time I met Melco was when he made a "farm call" to check out my gelding who had gone lame. At the time, Melco was the new guy at the Mille Lacs Veterinary Clinic, fresh out of vet school (University of Minnesota). I was amazed that he had forgotten to bring along anything pertinent to examine and treat a horse for lameness. Upon noticing a few lumps on my horse's chest, he shrieked in alarm, "He's got Strangles!" I had to explain to this professional veterinarian that my horse did not have Strangles, a serious, highly contagious and potentially fatal illness. The horse had a few gnat bites on his chest. I kid you not. Gnat bites. Anyway, DR Melco was of no help whatsoever to my horse. I finally asked him for some "bute" (phenylbutezolidan), but he had neglected to bring a tube of the handy dandy paste with him. After digging through his truck, he finally managed to find some tablets for me. Even though Melco didn't perform an adequate examination, didn't diagnose (well... except for the misdiagnosis of the gnat bites) my horse, didn't treat him, and didn't prescribe (I had to ask him for the bute), he was good at figuring out the math for these services. I dutifully paid the bill. (I applied a little "Udder Balm" to clear up the gnat bites.)

I didn't trust this vet when I brought Luke to the clinic, but by then he was, as I understand, their "small animal guy" and no longer attempting equine medicine. Trying to give him the benefit of a doubt, I figured he must be better with dogs.... I was, unfortunately wrong. Without testing, Robert Melco DVM assumed that my dog had something called Chronic Ear Infection which could be cured with blue liquid earwash and drops. When his treatment didn't work, he didn't question why it didn't work. He didn't say we needed to do a culture to find out what bacteria was causing these symptoms. Robert Melco DVM assumed that I hadn't applied his bad medicine correctly.

Dr. Melco failed. Thus began our long arduous quest to find a good veterinarian who could help Luke.

"We hurt him," said Kelner, returning from some back room where she had performed a deep cleaning on Luke's sore ears. Nobody had ever hurt Lukey before! Thus began Luke's fear of veterinarians. It was a terror he would never get over throughout his short life. This gentle giant, usually brave, was so traumatized that whenever he'd enter a clinic, he would tremble, pant, and drop hair. The more nervous he became, the more hair he would lose. I'm not talking shedding here. There would be a ring of black hair beneath him, like a halo. It was sad and bizarre.

At first, I faithfully followed directions. Like Melco's treatment, this medicine didn't cure Luke either. Eventually, I discontinued the treatment when I could no longer catch Luke to treat him. My dog ran away from me when he saw the bottles of ear meds! I had to yell at him to hold still for the application. Luke, the Good Dog tried so hard to cooperate. But the ear wash burned his ears terribly and the medicine did not work. His inner ear flaps became badly inflamed. His ear canals were so swollen that I had trouble getting the medicine in. And then hardly any of the ear wash seemed to come back out. Worst of all, Luke went deaf. I thought that the deafness was due to the swelling and liquid filling his ears. Little did I know that one of the side-effects of this medication is deafness!!!! I found out much too late.

Records

Unfortunately, a complete and accurate account of the course of Luke's illness is impossible to document. I cannot tell you details, other than what I remember. When did this vet or that vet see Luke? What medications were prescribed? What were Luke's symptoms at the time? Etc. etc. etc. Why can't I share this important information with you???

After Luke died, I contacted all of the veterinary clinics where I had taken Luke and requested copies of his records. (You bet I was pissed!) All but one clinic did indeed send me records, however, the records were useless. I was shocked and appalled! The records were scant, incomplete, non-existent. Most of the "records" are only copies of the billing. Only the University of Minnesota Veterinary Clinic keeps records of any value - but then, their vets don't read them and end up killing your dog.... I'll tell you about that later.

While looking through the "records", I found many mistakes. For instance, the Mille Lacs Veterinary Clinic sent me partial records after Dr. Youngberg killed Lucy and her babies. I believe it is because he lied in the records regarding this case, and he wanted to cover up his untruth. When I finally received all records, I was horrified to see that this clinic did not keep track of my animals - their patients. They referred to their patients according to species, not by name. True, I only had one pet steer. (His name was Rodney). How does a vet know which horse, which dog, which cat, or which goat they saw? They also had misinformation. For instance, they recorded that the vet saw my "Percheron/Quarterhorse cross". It took me a few minutes to figure out who they were talking about because I have never had either a Percheron nor a Quarterhorse and never the cross of the two. These vets recorded the wrong breed. If they didn't even know what kind of animal she was, why didn't they ask me? The horse they were describing was a Trakehner mare whom they also failed to save. She had to be euthanized. Now I wonder........ Could a good vet have saved her life? What is with these Milaca vets?

Bridget King and I became friends when we played in an orchestra together. (You see, in spite of appearances, I don't hate all vets.) We hung out together after concerts and rehearsals, talked on the phone, and she'd even been to my home. Her veterinary clinic is a two hour drive, which is quite a drive, but Luke was not getting the help he needed and we were prepared to do whatever it took to get to the root of his problems. We turned to Dr. King hoping that she would take a personal interest in Luke and figure out what was going on with him.

Dr. King tested Luke for low thyroid and allergies. None of the other vets thus far had thought of this. His thyroid was way too low and Luke's allergy tests* showed that he was allergic to just about everything, including his food! The antibiotics which Dr. Kelner had previously prescribed and caused a yeast infection, which Dr. King treated him for. She also prescribed thyroid medication, antihistamines**, and restricted his diet to a few limited brands of expensive dog food not carried in our local store, no treats. She sold me a gentler ear wash and safe ear drops. And she also prescribed prednisone***, which she called "The Silver Bullet". Now I know why prednisone is called the Silver Bullet. It kills you.

I appreciated a veterinarian who would actually try to find out what was causing Luke's illness. However, I have to say that Bridget King contributed to Luke's fear of vets. While I was seated in her exam room, I allowed Luke to climb on my lap with his front paws and bury his head into my arms. He was a big boy but really scared. Mistaking Luke's fear of herself for bad manners, (or perhaps bad training on my part), she suddenly grabbed the leash and yelled sharply at Luke to get down and behave. She continued to treat him like he was a BAD DOG! Luke left a whole lot of black hair in her exam room. He was not used to being hurt, shouted at, or treated unkindly. He was always such a good dog that we rarely had to correct his behavior or scold him.

I was also disappointed that my "friend" never called to see how Lukey was doing. In fact, I've never heard from her since our last visit to her clinic.

*We later discovered that the tests Dr. King performed may have been inaccurate, producing possibly false positive results.

** We later discovered a theory that when used in combination, thyroid medication and antihistamines cancel out each other.

*** We later discovered that it was the prednisone that caused the adrenal cancer that Luke died from.

I wasn't happy returning to the Mille Lacs Clinic to see Melco. But both of my dogs - Luke and Jazz - were due for their shots with the exception of rabies. Dr. King had given them their rabies shots on a visit a month earlier, which I knew they needed. I wasn't sure what other vaccinations they needed, so rather than risk giving them the wrong shots, back to Milaca we went. (Remember, this was before I knew that they don't keep good records!) Besides, I will admit that I wanted to share Dr. King's diagnosis of low thyroid and allergies with Dr. Melco. He seemed to agree with her, but it also seemed like he wasn't pleased that I had taken my dogs to another vet.

It was during this routine visit to the Milaca clinic that Dr. Robert Melco made another very Dumb Veterinary Mistake.

When we were all finished, as I was writing the check, I noticed that I was being charged for two rabies shots. I had specifically told Melco that the dogs had recently received their rabies vaccinations at another clinic and together we had gone over which vaccinations were to be given. Yet, Melco had re-vaccinated both dogs for rabies! Had he not been paying attention?

My first concern was the effect of the overdose on my dogs. When I balked, and questioned about the charges and the shots, the office worker called Melco to the reception desk. You should have seen the look on his face! Obviously he realized his mistake. He looked like Sylvester the cat with Tweety's feathers sticking out of his mouth when Grandma walks in and notices the empty cage. We'll never know what really happened - if it just slipped his mind or what - because Melco's response to his own error was, in my opinion, bizarre. He switched from that deer-in-the-headlights reaction directly into Attack Mode.

Instead he instantly launched into a personal attack of my own integrity and credibility. I was accused of lying about the rabies shots. Melco was aggressive, raising his voice, shouting at me. "We're not even allowed to touch an animal unless it's had it's rabies shots", he yelled. A vet tech joined in, ordering me to go home (40 miles) to retrieve the rabies certificates to prove that the dogs had been previously vaccinated. It was real ugly. And they insisted that I pay for the shots! I refused.

This Bad Veterinarian made a Dumb Veterinary Mistake, but rather than accept responsibility, he turned on the client!

Had I known beforehand that they needed to see validation, I could easily have brought the certificates with me. Bear in mind that this was not the first time Luke had been to the clinic. (It had never been required in the past, nor had my integrity ever been questioned.) I had been a regular client at the Mille Lacs Veterinary Clinic for 20 some years! Why would I lie? To save $18 after I'd already spent thousands on my animals? It doesn't make sense. That proof was needed came up only after the fact; after the vet screwed up and gave my dogs extra shots they didn't need. Melco said that vets aren't allowed to examine an animal that hasn't been vaccinated for rabies. (What about puppies and kittens?) So.... why didn't he bring this up before he examined the dogs? Why didn't he ask to see the certificate before he gave the dogs their extra shots? It doesn't make sense. He was giving me a truckload of bullshit. That's what bad vets often do...

Dr. God refused to admit his mistake. He never apologized. Yes, I now carry the dogs records in my purse. (I've been to several vet clinics since and not one has asked to see them....)

But it should not surprise any of us that this veterinarian would behave in such an irresponsible and unprofessional manner. Is refusing to admit your mistakes part of the standard policy at the Mille Lacs Veterinary Clinic P.A. ? Let us not forget who Rob Melco's boss is: Dr. John Youngberg... [See Lucy and the Twins]

Her place reeked of urine and excrement, as two dogs and at least three cats roamed freely in the small waiting room. Her toddler scooted around in a wheeled walker, rolling into Luke’s face, grabbing for his ears. Luckily, Luke was a gentle, loving dog who was great with kids. What if he had bitten the unsupervised child??? (At least he had an overdose of rabies vaccine!) Dr. Debbie prescribed a new ear wash, new ear drops, new synthetic prednisone to be taken "for the rest of his life" every other day, and a regiment of long-term antibiotic therapy to be taken three times weekly. She continued with his thyroid medication and treated him for yeast.

The synthetic prednisone drastically altered Luke’s body. He experienced a lot of side effects. He panted a lot, was always thirsty, always hungry (but on a very restrictive diet), he gained weight, his body started to sag, and he became increasingly lethargic. At a later visit, Dr. Debbie scolded us for letting Luke gain so much weight, even though the weight gain was due to the medication she prescribed. She also complained about Luke’s odor, which surprised me, considering the overwhelming stench in her clinic. Her treatment had not helped Luke. In fact, he was getting much worse. She recommended that we take Luke to the University of Minnesota to have his ear canals surgically removed.

Around noon on Saturday, December 29, 2002 we placed an emergency call to Dr. Debbie. Luke had been playing with his frisbee (one of his favorite things in life), when suddenly he stopped short, obviously injured and in pain. Dr. Debbie said it was most likely Lyme’s Disease. She instructed us to give Luke Ibuprofen* and call her at 7 o’clock in the evening if he hadn’t improved. He didn't improve. I called at 7 - and ever fifteen minutes thereafter, connecting only with her answering machine which directed her calls to a different vet (in Crosby, MN) who was on call for her. I couldn’t even leave her a message at the beep. There was no beep.

*Never give a dog Ibuprofen!!! It can kill them! One dose can send your dog into kidney failure and cause permanent damage to the liver, Dr. Debbie!

I sat up with Luke that night. At 4:30 a. m. I called the University of Minnesota Small Animal Emergency and explained the situation. I spoke to someone named Laurel, who advise that Luke needed to be seen by a vet. Well, duh! In hindsight, I should not have waited the few more hours for Dr. Debbie... But I did.

Sunday morning. I called Dr. Debbie at 8 a.m. and received the same frustrating message. I called the Crosby vet at about 9 am and left a message. When I described Luke’s symptoms and behavior, i.e. Luke was reluctant to move; he was obviously in a lot of pain; he panted a lot, etc. “Is he bleeding?” the vet interrupted. No. No blood. “No blood? Then it’s hardly an emergency”, said he in a sneery voice. He suggested that Luke may have twisted a leg by slipping on the ice. In his opinion, it was not a "life-threatening emergency." He suggested we "keep an eye on him: and keep Luke on a leash. Since it didn't sound like Luke was in a crisis, this vet instructed me to wait until Monday and take Luke to see Dr. Debbie. He became quite upset when I told him about the Ibuprofen. “Never give a dog Ibuprofen! It can kill them!” he exclaimed. So much for Dr. Debbie. How I hate her now. Quack quack quack.

On Sunday afternoon I called the U of M clinic again. The fellow I spoke with said that I could bring Luke in if I really wanted to, but that it didn't sound like much of an emergency, something about "the holidays" and that "This is an emergency hospital". After all of this, I began to believe that I was indeed over-reacting. At least, everyone else seemed to think so. So I decided to wait until morning.

At midnight, Luke became paralyzed, his hind legs dragging uselessly. He was rightfully frightened and upset, as were we. I called the University of Minnesota and this time I didn't ask.... I informed them we were rushing him to emergency and to expect us in two hours. I did not wait for a response. Certainly there could be no more doubt as to the emergency of our situation. We were on our way to the Mayo Clinic of veterinary hospitals. Getting a paralyzed 130 pound Labrador into an SUV isn’t an easy task. Getting him out proved even worse.

They came to the parking lot with a gurney for Luke. Luke had been quiet on the long drive, however, his eyes were shining in agony. While the people were trying to get Luke out of the back seat of the SUV, Luke began snapping wildly in the air, his eyes crazed with pain. He could have bitten any of us, but he didn’t. Good Luke would never bite anyone! People were yanking on him, pulling him with all their might, unaware that his paralyzed hind leg had caught in a crevice of the truck, twisting painfully. "Get a muzzle!", shouted the woman in charge. A muzzle was quickly produced and strapped onto Luke's head, clamping his mouth shut. Luke couldn’t breathe! He panicked! Desperately clawing at his face, he ripped the leather muzzle off, gulping and gasping air. He cut his cheek in the process. I was absolutely horrified!

Dr. Hunter, (the one in charge) was very professional. Smart, knowledgeable, concerned and appearing COMPETENT. Finally! After examining and x-raying Luke, she diagnosed him with Fibrocartilaginous Embolism (FCE). Although terrifying me, she also gave me hope. She was adamant that we were going to get to the bottom of Luke’s problems once and for all and get the poor dog some help. Unfortunately, that was the last we saw of her.* At about 4 a.m., we left Luke in the hospital and made the 2 hour drive home. During the trip, although totally exhausted, Curt and I talked hopefully about Luke's future. We'd get him through this FCE and find out what was wrong with his ears and he would at last be alright. Cost was not a factor. We would do whatever it took to help Luke. We wished we had brought him to the U of M sooner. Certainly, they would find a cure!

*Dr. Hunter is no longer at the University of Minnesota Veterinary Hospital and apparently moved to Colorado where she no longer practices veterinary medicine. Her license was voluntarily retired. I don't know why.

Monday. We got home at around 6 am and crawled into bed. Dr. Clark, a surgical resident at the U of M called around 9. He gave a very brief report about Luke, but was unable to answer any of my questions. He said he was very busy right now, but would call the next day with more details. All we knew was that Luke was still alive. I called the hospital a few times that day, trying not to be a nuisance, but unable to relax. I was told that Luke was "resting comfortably" and doing as well as could be expected.

Tuesday. Dr. Clark again called in the morning (it is not out of courtesy, but a requirement of the hospital...) He was yet again ambiguous about Luke's test results and condition. He did stress that Luke was very difficult to work on due to his "severe viciousness". Luke? Vicious??? I couldn’t believe it. Good Luke??? He Clark told me Luke was dangerous. Had Luke had a complete personality transformation due to his FCE? Was this doctor's lack of information due to that fact that his fear of his patient was keeping him from doing his job?

Dr. Clark had a bad attitude which came through loud and clear on the telephone. He sounded both bored and defensive. He was condescending and on the verge of being rude. His "report" told me little, so I asked questions. Was Luke's pain being addressed with medications? He said Luke was not in pain. I had trouble believing that too. I'd been told there was no change in his condition since we brought him in. Apparently it was true, since (I later discovered) the pain, however excruciating, subsides. But Clark had not explained the course of the FCE syndrome. (Did he even know?) Most of what I know about FCE I learned on the Internet in the days and nights following the crisis. When I asked about Luke's test results, Clark, sounding angry and defensive told me there was "nothing special". (I think a malignant tumor on Luke's adrenal gland is kind of special, don't you? In some circles it might even be considered rather significant... ) When I asked Dr. Clark if Luke could walk, his reply was a snotty "You really didn't expect him to be walking, did you?" Since nothing was explained to me, I didn't know what to expect. But Clark's attitude greatly alarmed me! He then made a snide comment about Luke feeling “abandoned” by us and the least we could do was visit him!

Trying to deal with Dr. Clark was shocking to me. I don’t believe he did anything to help Luke. I don't think he had much to do with Luke at all. When I asked if Luke had a bowel movement, Clark got snotty. “I don’t care if he did or didn’t,” he snapped. “It’s not important.” Not important? He didn’t know! Shouldn't he at least know if the dog was able to poop or not? Clark again accused Luke of being a "mean dog", very difficult to handle. Luke was 130 pounds of pure love. Luke was kind. Luke was respectful. These reports of viciousness put me in the Twilight Zone.

After my second telephone conversation with Dr. Clark, I telephoned the hospital to check up on him and to again complain about him. How could a doctor in his second year of veterinary surgery residency be so completely unprofessional, immature, and incompetent? How could someone like Clark make it that far in the first place? Why wasn't he "weeded out"?

Of course, we visited Luke in the hospital just as soon as we could. We arrived at the University and waited while a vet student wheeled Luke out in a wagon to visit us. He still could not walk at all. Luke was so relieved to see us. He was unable to wag his tail, but his smile said it all. That Luke smile... God we loved each other so! I asked the technician/student about Luke's vicious behavior. She laughed. “What do you mean? He’s a sweetheart!,” she said tickling his chin. I told her about Clark’s apparent fear of Luke and his reports that the big black dog was dangerously vicious. She frowned in confusion, then scoffed. No. Luke had been no trouble to anyone, she said. In fact, they had grown quite fond of him, keeping him on a bed of blankets in their office because he was such a nice guy who obviously needed the company of people. I was touched by her affection for my dog. Of course. Who couldn’t love Luke? He was such a Lab.

Then we met the young Dr. Buck Clark.... He was a large man dressed in surgical scrubs. He looked like a bully to me... But Dr. Clark was less nasty (vicious) in person than he had been on the telephone, no doubt at all that my complaint about him had been conveyed to him - for he'd indeed had an attitude change. Despite his new-found friendliness, I sized him up rather quickly as being arrogant, lazy, self-important, "superior", immature... nasty on the phone or behind someone's back, but lacking the balls in a face-to-face confrontation. And prejudiced against big black dogs who cannot wag their tails due to paralysis.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Clark began talking about himself, revealing his own problems or perhaps offering an excuse. He confessed that he was feeling really put upon because he had to work over New Year’s while his friends all got to go out and party. (Yes, he actually told us this!) Considering our New Years, I had little sympathy for Dr. Clark.

I mentioned that the vet tech/student who had delivered Luke in the wagon said that nobody else had noticed Luke's "viciousness".... Clark seemed embarrassed. Since Clark still had not been clear about Luke's tests, I asked to see Luke’s X-rays. Reluctantly, Clark went to get them. When he eventually returned, he handed me a large envelope and walked away with a smug smile, saying there was a cat he needed to see. He didn't take me to an X-ray viewer and explain things to me. Left on my own, (and not being a vet myself) I pulled out the films in the dimly lit room, holding them over my head and squinting at them, trying, hoping to see something from the ceiling light high above. I didn't see much. Dr. Clark had not seen the X-rays either. If he had, he might have noticed the tumor on Luke’s adrenal gland. Of course, if he had only taken a moment to read the radiologist’s report, he might have seen that she had reported the abnormality the night we brought Luke into emergency. Was the poor, party-deprived “Dr.” Clark was too wrapped up in his self-pity to think about his patients? After our meeting with Clark, I again complained to the front desk that Dr. Clark was not providing adequate care to Luke and seemingly didn't really know our dog's case.

Finally the day came when we could bring our Lukey home! This time Dr. Clark himself brought Luke to us. Luke still couldn't walk, but was wearing a strap under his belly with which Clark supported the big dog's hind end. He spoke of what a "nice dog" Luke turned out to be after all, and stressed over and over again how he had never been afraid of him, etc. Clark suddenly acted like Luke was his all-time favorite patient, fussing all over the dog. Luke returned no affection for Dr. Clark, however. Luke was merely polite.

Luke received around-the-clock care at home. Fortunately Curt and I are both retired and could devote ourselves fully to Luke's needs, never leaving him alone. Having horses, we borrowed one of the cinch straps from a saddle and rigged up a device to move him. He still could not stand or walk. But he wanted to go outside to relieve himself. (Luke was a good dog and wouldn't go in the house). Still, with Luke being like some bizarre 130 pound tote bag, it was clumsy and difficult to get him out and in again, especially for me. I made a large bed of blankets in our walk-out basement and moved down there with him until he could walk again. When he began to gain strength, I walked him around to the front door, and he moved into the den and bedroom. Although these were very trying times, Luke was in good spirits. After all, he only wanted to be with us. And we were there together, so he was happy. He was still unable to walk without assistance, but he could lay there with his head up, thumping his tail and moving his legs. We were happy too. Luke's recovery was very slow. But I appreciated spending time with him. I was very excited that Luke would be seeing a dermatologist at the University and after he recovered from the FCE. Besides Luke's other problems, he had come back from the hospital with raw, red, bloody elbows. Had he scraped them on concrete while struggling to get up? I didn't know. I was hopeful the dermatologist was going to solve the mystery of Luke and also fix his elbows. Luke would be cured at last! What I did not realize was that Luke would be dead in a few short months.

The University is a Teaching Hospital. If you haven't had the experience, it is quite different than going to a regular vet. First, the student examines your dog, then checks with the instructor. With Dr. Ness, Luke had a whole class of 7 or 8 students crammed into the small exam room (plus Curt and I). I noticed that one of the students was covering her nose and mouth and I realized it was due to the smell. I guess I had gotten used to the Luke stench. It was pretty pungent... In close quarters, everyone was affected. If she can't take this, I said to myself, that girl isn't going to make it as a vet! She probably did.

We made the four hour trip several times to see Dr. Ness. They all sort of run together in my brain now. On one occasion, the student who finished examining Luke had to come back in because she had forgotten to do a culture on Luke's feet. She was embarrassed because Dr. Ness had caught her mistake. Now, you can imagine how pleased I was about this. I thought Dr. Ness was competent, thorough, knowledgeable... After all... he was the TEACHER! (Only the BEST for my Lukey...) It is ironic that after what we had been through with Melco, Kelner, and especially Eskadahl I could still be so trusting.... so hopeful.... so.... stupid....

By this time, I’d had plenty of time to research on the Internet. I had learned all about FCE, allergies, and had myself made a diagnosis. Luke had 19 of the 20 listed symptoms of Cushing’s Disease. When I told Dr. Ness, however, he shook it off, explaining that Luke showed signs of extended prednisone side effects. Apparently Dr. Ness, like Dr. Clark before him, had failed to read Luke’s chart where the radiologist clearly wrote about the likelihood of a tumor on his adrenal gland. I would have pointed it out, except that nobody had told me.

Dr. Ness had, however, done an extensive culture of Luke’s ears. He found that Luke had an unusual bacteria which did not respond to any of the medications Luke had been treated with for the past five years. The medication Dr. Ness prescribed cost over $90 for one little bottle, but after only one dose, Luke’s ears improved dramatically. I can’t tell you how grateful I was to Dr. Ness for finally solving Luke’s ears!!! This medication was obviously working!

Dr. Ness, who treated Luke’s lumpy paws, red-raw elbows, and the rash which had developed on his swollen body. Twice per day I rubbed medication on Luke’s elbows and massaged his feet with the medicine. Except that his ears were rapidly clearing up, Luke’s condition seemed to be worsening. Still I was hopeful that we had at last found a cure! It would just take time... Of course, Time was one thing we couldn't give Luke.

At each visit, I reported to Dr. Ness that Luke's elbows were getting worse, not better. Dr. Ness thought that it was due to Luke laying on the hardwood floor instead of the blankets. That did not make sense. I explained that the dog had always laid on the floor without elbow consequences, and he preferred the floor to the soft bed. (I think the coolness felt good to him.) How did he explain the rash on Luke's belly? Well, he couldn't. Didn't read Luke's records....

Like the other bad vets, Dr. Timm Ness DVM kept repeating the treatments that didn't work. I dutifully rubbed Luke's feet and belly with medication. I tended to his ears. I followed directions.

Like the other bad vets, Dr. Timm Ness kept repeating the treatments that didn't work.

Sidetrip

Luke knew he smelled bad... and he came home from the hospital absolutely reeking. He was a sensitive dog and his odor embarrassed him. We couldn't bathe him while he was paralyzed. When Luke was finally pretty well over his FCE and into his dermatology phase, finally Curt and I could give Lukey a bath! He was so happy to be clean again! Things were definitely looking up for Luke.

It was a beautiful sunny day in April, unseasonably warm. We took Luke for a walk down to the barn. It was wonderful that things were getting back to normal. Luke had been enjoying his normal life. We were all happy to see Luke "out of the woods". I felt grateful. This was my mood as I walked up to Luke, who had laid down in the shade. As I smiled at him, I saw blood on Luke’s gums. Blood? Had he bitten his tongue? As I examined him, I noticed a large patch of swelling on his right arm that had not been there an hour ago. Although I knew something very bad was happening to Lukey, I didn't know what it was. Luke was "bleeding out".

Within minutes we were back in the car, rushing Luke to the U of M Small Animal Emergency once again.

X-rays showed a large tumor on Luke's adrenal gland. The malignant tumor had metastasized to his liver. Luke was dying. I spoke to a surgeon who explained that if the tumor had been discovered earlier, it may have been possible to remove it and save Luke's life. Unfortunately, it was too late.

This was the first I'd heard of the tumor. April. The radiologist had diagnosed it in December, but nobody else noticed. If Luke had undergone surgery when the tumor was first discovered, would he be alive now? We'll never know. If Dr. Ness had listened to me when I told him I thought Luke had Cushing's Disease (which can be caused by an adrenal tumor) and if Ness had acted swiftly, could Luke's life been saved? We'll never know. We were never given the chance to find out.

The veterinarians at the University of Minnesota Small Animal Clinic recommended euthanasia. Curt and I entered the room to say goodbye to Luke. He wagged his tale and smiled when he saw us. There was such a look of relief in his eyes. All he ever wanted was for us to be together. Curt and I looked at each other. We knew what was best. "We're taking him home," I said. Everyone looked at us like we were nuts. I didn't care. We couldn't get him out of there fast enough!

One thing about Luke... He had always been a squatter. I don't know why, but he had never been much of a leg-lifter. But as we left the U of M small animal clinic for the last time, Luke surprised me. Weak and dying, our Luke gathered what strength he had, lifted his leg and pissed on the building! "Good boy!" I said.

The end came quickly. We applied morphine patches for pain. Luke laid on his blankets, surrounded by those he loved and who loved him: me, Curt, our dog Jazzy (who had raised him), and our cats Beau and Quaver. He was held and cuddled and told what a good boy he was and how much he was loved.

The University of Minnesota Small Animal Hospital accepted responsibility.

They acknowledged their mistakes.

They offered apologies.

They offered condolences.

Without argument, they immediately refunded the nearly $4,000 I had paid them.

Every one of Luke's veterinarians was a graduate of the University of Minnesota.

Somehow, it was important to me that Dr. Rob Melco, from the Milaca clinic, make a house call.... and personally pick up our dead dog for cremation. So it cost a hundred dollars. I wanted him to tell him about Luke.... He had 44 miles to think about Luke. I wanted him to have to physically lift the 130 pound dog he helped kill. I wanted him to "get it". Somehow, I don't think he "got it". He didn't take any responsibility. Let's face it. He just didn't care.

Luke's Veterinarians

Robert Melco DVM continues to practice veterinary medicine at the Mille Lacs Veterinary Clinic P.A. in Milaca, Minnesota.

Vicki Kelner DVM continues to practice veterinary medicine at North Oaks Animal Hospital in St. Cloud, Minnesota.

Bridget King DVM continues to practice veterinary medicine at Homestead Clinic in Aldrich, Minnesota

Debbie Eskedahl DVM dontinues to practice veterinary medicine at Garrison Animal Hospital in Garrison, Minnesota

Christine Hunter DVM voluntarily retired in 2005. No further information is available.

Timothy Ness DVM currently practices dermatology at Arboretum View Animal Hospital in Downer's Grove, Illinois.

Perhaps if these veterinarians practice long enough, eventually they will get it right...

James "Buck" Clark DVM. The party boy... I have been unable to find any information on his whereabouts. I cannot find that he is currently licensed or practicing veterinary medicine. Perhaps he is still in school. Hopefully, he was weeded out of the profession after what he did to my Lukey. But probably not. If you happen to run across this individual, do not let him near your pets! He is the worst of the worst of the Bad Vets.

UPDATE! James Buck Clark is located in Cary, North Carolina.

Veterinary Specialty Hospital
6405 Tryon Rd, Suite 100
Cary, NC 27511

If this is your vet, beware!!!!!

(Thank you for contacting me, Betty. I am so sorry for the loss of your dog "Shank".)

I keep Luke's ashes next to my bed. Someday I might bury them or scatter them. Just not quite yet.