Tales from a Young Vet: Part 3 of 3: Mad cows, crazy kittens, and all creatures big and small. Jo Hardy

rejoin their friends.

      Gemma hoped that it would be at least a year, maybe two, before they had to do the procedure again.

      My biggest challenge of the week came when I was asked to do a post-mortem on a dhole that had just died. I’d only just found out that morning what a dhole was (it’s a kind of wild dog that looks like a cross between a wolf and a fox), so when Gemma said she was really busy and could I do the post-mortem while she did rounds I was a bit daunted. Would I know one end of a dhole from another?

      Gemma laughed and said she was sure I’d be fine. She dropped me off at the shed where the dhole was, with a bag of instruments, and said she’d see me in an hour or two, when she would double-check my findings.

      There was nothing for it but to get on with it. A post-mortem is not a question of simply cutting up the dead animal; it’s a methodical process, which complements a thorough history from the keeper when a vet is trying to establish the cause of death.

      It had been a while since I had been trained to do a post-mortem at college, and my only experience since then had been the post-mortem on the alpaca with Niall. I certainly hadn’t come expecting to do one on my own. But I decided to imagine doing a post-mortem on a dog and as I made the first incision it all came flooding back to me.

      I quite enjoy post-mortems. I don’t mean to sound gruesome, and of course I’m always sad that an animal has died, but I like the idea of solving a mystery. Remember that early passion for forensics? I’ve always loved piecing clues together.

      In the end this post-mortem didn’t involve much of a mystery as I came to a conclusion pretty quickly; the dhole had had septicaemia, presumably from a large bite I found on its neck. Dholes are pack animals and the keeper’s report made clear that this one had been at the bottom of the pack. It had been picked on by the others, which was terribly sad. There had been a nasty fight about five days earlier, involving this dhole and the pack leader, which this one had clearly lost. The keeper hadn’t been aware that he’d been so seriously injured, and I didn’t blame him as the hair on dholes is so thick that it completely covered the injury. The previous day this dhole had been much quieter, hiding by himself, and sadly this morning the keeper had found him dead.

      This sort of situation creates an ethical dilemma for zoos. In the wild, the animal at the bottom of the pack would have plenty of space to get away from the bullying animals higher up the pecking order, but in the enclosure there isn’t enough space to get away. And if the keeper was to remove the bullied dhole, the next in line would take its place at the bottom of the pack.