How Much Is Too Much?

Boo Boo Kitty was consternated--and I certainly wasn't happy either. Last fall, Boo Boo began having unfortunate issues in the litter box, which embarrassed him greatly and really annoyed me. How to put this delicately? He had projectile diarrhea. This is a story about my 11-year-old Siamese-Burmese mix cat Boo Boo Kitty, whose real name is Sam but who somehow acquired the embarrassing nickname many years ago. At the time of the litter-box contretemps, Boo Boo was already having health issues: an overactive thyroid, which strained his heart, and test results indicated a potential liver malady as well as an elevated white-cell count. Boo Boo's future wasn't looking bright. Some friends, only half-joking, urged me to put him down when they heard about the latest problem. That wasn't an option. Boo Boo had been with me through a major earthquake in Los Angeles, a terrorist attack in New York and multiple upheavals in my own life, always looking at me with his same cross-eyed equanimity and unconditional love. Instead, I decided on aggressive medical care for Boo Boo--even if it nearly bankrupted me. The sophistication of animal medicine has advanced almost exponentially in the past 30 years, veterinarians say. "I don't believe there is any comparison between the medicine I learned in 1964 and the medicine taught today," says James Brandt, a Florida animal doctor and the past president of the American Veterinary Medical Association. "It has evolved for the betterment of the practitioner and the animals. They live much longer." And that's not all. "When I started practicing the animals were in the backyard, and then they worked themselves onto the back porch and then to the bed until they are an integral part of the family," he says. The changing relationship with our pets and the great advances in animal medicine mean we are able to and want to give Boo Boo and Fido care that was unimaginable 20 years ago. (It's also created a $31 billion pet care industry). Unquestionably the lives of our pets are better today.

What my friends were really asking, however, was a valid question for all pet owners. How much treatment is too much? When do we stop putting our pets through painful procedures and giving them multiple medications, many with their own side effects? Just because we can now spend thousands of dollars on tests and exotic treatments for our pets, should we? Do they increase the quality of the pet's life? Those were questions as Boo Boo and I entered the marble hallway of a multi-story medical complex in north Dallas, a temple to the latest in veterinary treatment. It should have been called the Mayo Clinic for Pets and I cringed when I realized the facilities and quality of care were probably superior to the emergency room I had taken my father to a few weeks earlier.

After a liver biopsy and various intensive stomach tests, the doctor pronounced Boo Boo's diagnosis: Inflammatory Bowel Disease. He did not have cancer, and changing his diet and administering oral steroids would eventually help control the symptoms.

But Boo Boo's plight was not over. The tests themselves had exacerbated some of his earlier problems and he began a rapid decline. Too weak to eat, he shed several pounds. His breathing was shallow and rapid. He seemed to be slipping away. I had to consider whether it was time to let him go or to continue treatments that might possibly cause him pain.

During one particularly bleak visit, his doctor brought out jars of human baby food to see if she could tempt Boo Boo to eat. Lying on the examination table, he began to lick the food, then eat it. The doctor firmly said it was clear Boo Boo hadn't given up and neither should I. After hand feeding him for more than two weeks, his strength began to return.

Now his test results are practically normal. He seems happy, purring as he sits in my lap or stretches in the sunlight. Mercifully, the litter box issues are no more. Those few weeks also cost me close to $5,000. And Boo Boo's health does depend on taking six pills every day for the rest of his life. "Is the best and latest treatment always the best? I can't say that it would be across the board," says Marc Bekoff, an animal behaviorist at the University of Colorado, Boulder. "Being able to afford to do the best treatment available in and of itself is not always a compelling reason. We need to look at individual cases but I do think our animals tell us at some point their life isn't over and I don't mean that in some la, la, mystical way." Boo Boo wasn't ready to go--even if he is probably ready for me to stop calling him by such a silly name.

© 2003