Death & Grief
![Karen Fine - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B094XMZ8M3.jpg)
The Other Family Doctor: A Veterinarian Explores What Animals Can Teach Us About Love, Life, and Mortality
Calling all animal lovers! A heartwarming memoir about one woman's career as a vet and the unique role pets play in our lives • "Filled with compassion and wisdom, Karen Fine is a healer whose own wounds have deepened her gifts for bringing animals and their people comfort and peace." -Sy Montgomery, bestselling author of The Soul of an Octopus
A tribute to our furry, feathery, scaley, and wet family members, All Creatures Great and Small meets Being Mortal in this compelling memoir of one woman's dream to become a veterinarian.
Karen Fine always knew that she wanted to be a vet and wasn't going to let anything stop her: not her allergy to cats, and not the fact that in the '80s veterinary medicine was still a mostly male profession. Inspired by her grandfather, a compassionate doctor who paid house calls to all his (human) patients, Dr. Fine persevered, and brought her Oupa's principles into her own practice, which emphasizes the need to understand her patients' stories to provide the best possible care.
And in The Other Family Doctor, Dr. Fine shares all these touching, joyful, heartbreaking, and life-affirming tales that make up her career as a vet. There's:
• The feral cat who becomes a creature out of a fable when he puts his trust in a young vet to heal his injured paw
• The pot-bellied pig who grows too big to fit in the car but remains a cherished part of her family
• The surprising colony of perfectly behaved ferrets
• The beloved aging pet who gives her people the gift of accompanying them on one final family vacation
• The dog who saves his owner's life in a most unexpected way
Woven into Dr. Fine's story are, of course, also the stories of her own pets: the birds, cats, and dogs who have taught her the most valuable lessons-how caring for the animals in our lives can teach us to better care for ourselves, especially when life seems precarious.
A tribute to our furry, feathery, scaley, and wet family members, All Creatures Great and Small meets Being Mortal in this compelling memoir of one woman's dream to become a veterinarian.
Karen Fine always knew that she wanted to be a vet and wasn't going to let anything stop her: not her allergy to cats, and not the fact that in the '80s veterinary medicine was still a mostly male profession. Inspired by her grandfather, a compassionate doctor who paid house calls to all his (human) patients, Dr. Fine persevered, and brought her Oupa's principles into her own practice, which emphasizes the need to understand her patients' stories to provide the best possible care.
And in The Other Family Doctor, Dr. Fine shares all these touching, joyful, heartbreaking, and life-affirming tales that make up her career as a vet. There's:
• The feral cat who becomes a creature out of a fable when he puts his trust in a young vet to heal his injured paw
• The pot-bellied pig who grows too big to fit in the car but remains a cherished part of her family
• The surprising colony of perfectly behaved ferrets
• The beloved aging pet who gives her people the gift of accompanying them on one final family vacation
• The dog who saves his owner's life in a most unexpected way
Woven into Dr. Fine's story are, of course, also the stories of her own pets: the birds, cats, and dogs who have taught her the most valuable lessons-how caring for the animals in our lives can teach us to better care for ourselves, especially when life seems precarious.
Editorial Reviews
"Just in case you didn't love your animal doc enough already, Karen Fine's The Other Family Doctor will make you want to HUG your vet. This endearing memoir of what it takes to become a veterinarian and make it through the trenches of providing 24/7 care for the creatures we love best is so full of grit, determination, humor, and love."
-Jenna Blum, New York Times bestselling author of Woodrow on the Bench and Those Who Save Us
"Filled with compassion and wisdom, Karen Fine is a healer whose own wounds have deepened her gifts for bringing animals and their people comfort and peace."
-Sy Montgomery, New York Times bestselling author of The Soul of an Octopus and How to Be a Good Creature
"A vivid exploration of what it means to heal, to connect with animals, and to find our truest calling. If you're anything like me and you've wondered at your dog's veterinary appointments who are these doctors that care for our animals through sickness and health, who hold us and them when the time comes to say goodbye to the pets we love most, this book is for you."
-Rory Kress, author of The Doggie in the Window
"Compassionate and empathetic, The Other Family Doctor is required reading for anyone who has ever loved an animal."
-E.B. Bartels, author of Good Grief
"Karen Fine has captured the human-animal bond in loving detail that's sure to resonate with animal lovers everywhere. The Other Family Doctor is heartwarming and by turns hilarious, enlightening, and deeply poignant. This captivating memoir may bring forth a few tears, but ultimately, it's an uplifting look inside the life and work of someone who cares deeply for our beloved companions. Somewhere, James Herriot is smiling."
-Sarah Chauncey, author of P.S. I Love You More Than Tuna
"The Other Family Doctor is a...
-Jenna Blum, New York Times bestselling author of Woodrow on the Bench and Those Who Save Us
"Filled with compassion and wisdom, Karen Fine is a healer whose own wounds have deepened her gifts for bringing animals and their people comfort and peace."
-Sy Montgomery, New York Times bestselling author of The Soul of an Octopus and How to Be a Good Creature
"A vivid exploration of what it means to heal, to connect with animals, and to find our truest calling. If you're anything like me and you've wondered at your dog's veterinary appointments who are these doctors that care for our animals through sickness and health, who hold us and them when the time comes to say goodbye to the pets we love most, this book is for you."
-Rory Kress, author of The Doggie in the Window
"Compassionate and empathetic, The Other Family Doctor is required reading for anyone who has ever loved an animal."
-E.B. Bartels, author of Good Grief
"Karen Fine has captured the human-animal bond in loving detail that's sure to resonate with animal lovers everywhere. The Other Family Doctor is heartwarming and by turns hilarious, enlightening, and deeply poignant. This captivating memoir may bring forth a few tears, but ultimately, it's an uplifting look inside the life and work of someone who cares deeply for our beloved companions. Somewhere, James Herriot is smiling."
-Sarah Chauncey, author of P.S. I Love You More Than Tuna
"The Other Family Doctor is a...
Readers Top Reviews
TdanoMountain MikePo
I adored this book and read it in a day. A wonderfully written memoir about life as a vet and a human who lives (and loves) pets. Anyone who has ever wondered about what it takes to be a veterinarian should pick up this book.
Mark Langer
I'm not what you'd call an "Animal person" (though I've always had cats, whom I loved/love very much) but I just loved this thoughtful account of what it's like to care for, treat, love, euthanize, and grieve animals, from the perspective of a vet who is also a pet owner. Genuinely moving but never sentimental, and written in a style that makes you feel like you're having a conversation with a friend over coffee. Highly recommend for anyone who's ever loved or lost a pet.
Jo VM
This book helped me so much. It's an honest, earnest and relatable book for people who love animals. I've always had pets but five years ago I lost a dog to cancer and have struggled with that loss and the choices I made regarding her care ever since. Did I do the right thing? Could she have lived longer? Should I have ended her suffering sooner? Why after five years do I still miss and mourn her so? What is WRONG with me that at 50+ years old with three adult children I still bawl like a little kid over animals? This book helped me see the validity of my feelings and gave me some new perspectives and supports to consider. For that, I am grateful. If you're hoping for James Herriott stories, this isn't it. There are some warm and sweet stories here though. I bought this in Audible format and will probably buy a hard copy now so as to highlight some pieces to go back and review. Thank you, Dr. Fine for your work and this book.
Sara F
With many years of pets and veterinary medicine under her belt, Karen Fine delivers an entertaining, educational, and sweet nonfiction work about what it is like to be on both sides of the stethoscope. The author gives her background of what caused her to yearn to be a veterinarian and her pathway there. Despite being one of the groundbreaking few women to go into animal medicine, she tells us how her knowledge was done in college via “old school” methods. The education seemed to somewhat harden her heart to looking at the animals in an objective way, that is until she got a pet of her own. The remainder of the book is additional memories of her practice which are special in that she would go to patients’ homes to treat them. She also includes several chapters on euthanasia, which are eye opening and very thought provoking for those of us who face seeing our aging or sick best friends in pain daily or taking it upon ourselves bravely to end a life. What a kind, giving person Dr. Fine must be. Although I add a trigger warning for the euthanasia discussions, I will say that she has wonderful memories and anecdotes to accompany each point she makes. I loved this book, and highly recommend it to anyone who loves animals of any kind.
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
It's a Calling
The cat had come with the house.
He was a feral black cat that John and Susan, who bought the tidy bungalow in a quiet tree-lined neighborhood, had named Miles. Many people wouldn't have concerned themselves with a stray, especially not when doing so cost them money. But although John and Susan hadn't expected Miles, they accepted him as their responsibility. They had him neutered and vaccinated at a nearby clinic. Miles warmed to his new humans, enjoying their attention even though he remained wild at heart, preferring to be outdoors most of the time. John and Susan allowed him into the house whenever he wanted, keeping him fed and warm. Slowly, he had become a part of their family.
But one chilly afternoon in February, John called me, his voice heavy with worry. He thought Miles might have an infected front paw. It was swollen, he explained over the phone, and Miles was limping. Suspecting an abscess, I told him it might need to be treated at a clinic. But as he and Susan were unable to catch Miles, I agreed to come to their house.
I was never happy about using a fishing net to catch a cat. I had learned the technique from another house-call veterinarian, who specialized in cats and cared for some feral cat colonies. It always felt traumatic, especially when I knew the cats I cared for didn't understand. Still, I kept a fishing net in my car, if only to use as a last resort.
This was a last-resort kind of case.
When I arrived at their home, John and Susan led me to the back bathroom, where they'd been able to corral Miles. The poor kitty was petrified from being cooped up, and although he wouldn't allow me near him, I was able to trap him with the net. Wild creatures do not like being confined, and I hoped to be able to release him soon.
Remembering what the other vet had taught me, I used the double-wrapping method to enfold Miles until he was snug inside the net. My patient scratched and clawed, and I felt his distress. Yet I knew I had to be vigilant not to let him out or I wouldn't be able to catch him again. This was my one chance to help him. Finally, he settled and became still.
Biting my lip in concentration, I gently slid the long handle of the cat-net package a few feet along the linoleum floor into the kitchen, where the light was better and I had more room to work. I stood on the handle to hold the net in place. As soon as I looked closely at the paw, I could tell what was causing the limp. Occasionally a cat's claw will grow long enough to curl around in a circle and continue growing right into the pad, causing pain and often an infection. Miles had a badly ingrown nail, which had become embedded in his paw.
I would need to trim the nail to relieve Miles's pain and allow the infection to heal. However, I couldn't get to the nail with Miles compressed under the netting. Complicating matters, it was a front claw, close to Miles's sharp set of teeth. In a clinic setting, it would have taken two trained professionals using leather gloves to hold Miles so I could trim his nail safely, if it could be done at all. Otherwise, we'd have to anesthetize him. But here, hovering over Miles in the middle of the kitchen, none of those options was available to me.
I explained the problem to John and Susan and told them I didn't know what to do. They looked at me nervously. Although it would terrify Miles to go to a clinic, it would be a good option if I could get him into a carrier. But I doubted I'd be able to do that once I unwrapped him from the netting. And I had no injectable anesthetics with me, as that was not something I used in clients' homes. We had no good options.
As I stood there debating what to do next, this feral cat, trapped in the net, slowly extended the affected paw through the netting. The three of us watched, disbelieving, as he spread his toes. We looked at each other, mouths agape and soundless. That old thorn-in-the-lion's-paw story was flashing before our collective eyes.
As I quickly found my nail trimmers and cut the offending nail, Miles kept his paw completely still. None of us made a sound for fear of breaking whatever spell he was under. At last, I released Miles from the net. He shook himself and headed back outside. His limp was gone.
It was impossible to look at Miles, who would surely make a full recovery with the help of some antibiotics, and at John and Susan, who cared so much about this feral cat, and not think about the ways they had agreed to take care of each other and how, because of this, they were all better off.
I've been a veterinarian for thirty years. For most of that time I've had my own house-call practice, going inside people's homes to care for their animals, meeting my human ...
It's a Calling
The cat had come with the house.
He was a feral black cat that John and Susan, who bought the tidy bungalow in a quiet tree-lined neighborhood, had named Miles. Many people wouldn't have concerned themselves with a stray, especially not when doing so cost them money. But although John and Susan hadn't expected Miles, they accepted him as their responsibility. They had him neutered and vaccinated at a nearby clinic. Miles warmed to his new humans, enjoying their attention even though he remained wild at heart, preferring to be outdoors most of the time. John and Susan allowed him into the house whenever he wanted, keeping him fed and warm. Slowly, he had become a part of their family.
But one chilly afternoon in February, John called me, his voice heavy with worry. He thought Miles might have an infected front paw. It was swollen, he explained over the phone, and Miles was limping. Suspecting an abscess, I told him it might need to be treated at a clinic. But as he and Susan were unable to catch Miles, I agreed to come to their house.
I was never happy about using a fishing net to catch a cat. I had learned the technique from another house-call veterinarian, who specialized in cats and cared for some feral cat colonies. It always felt traumatic, especially when I knew the cats I cared for didn't understand. Still, I kept a fishing net in my car, if only to use as a last resort.
This was a last-resort kind of case.
When I arrived at their home, John and Susan led me to the back bathroom, where they'd been able to corral Miles. The poor kitty was petrified from being cooped up, and although he wouldn't allow me near him, I was able to trap him with the net. Wild creatures do not like being confined, and I hoped to be able to release him soon.
Remembering what the other vet had taught me, I used the double-wrapping method to enfold Miles until he was snug inside the net. My patient scratched and clawed, and I felt his distress. Yet I knew I had to be vigilant not to let him out or I wouldn't be able to catch him again. This was my one chance to help him. Finally, he settled and became still.
Biting my lip in concentration, I gently slid the long handle of the cat-net package a few feet along the linoleum floor into the kitchen, where the light was better and I had more room to work. I stood on the handle to hold the net in place. As soon as I looked closely at the paw, I could tell what was causing the limp. Occasionally a cat's claw will grow long enough to curl around in a circle and continue growing right into the pad, causing pain and often an infection. Miles had a badly ingrown nail, which had become embedded in his paw.
I would need to trim the nail to relieve Miles's pain and allow the infection to heal. However, I couldn't get to the nail with Miles compressed under the netting. Complicating matters, it was a front claw, close to Miles's sharp set of teeth. In a clinic setting, it would have taken two trained professionals using leather gloves to hold Miles so I could trim his nail safely, if it could be done at all. Otherwise, we'd have to anesthetize him. But here, hovering over Miles in the middle of the kitchen, none of those options was available to me.
I explained the problem to John and Susan and told them I didn't know what to do. They looked at me nervously. Although it would terrify Miles to go to a clinic, it would be a good option if I could get him into a carrier. But I doubted I'd be able to do that once I unwrapped him from the netting. And I had no injectable anesthetics with me, as that was not something I used in clients' homes. We had no good options.
As I stood there debating what to do next, this feral cat, trapped in the net, slowly extended the affected paw through the netting. The three of us watched, disbelieving, as he spread his toes. We looked at each other, mouths agape and soundless. That old thorn-in-the-lion's-paw story was flashing before our collective eyes.
As I quickly found my nail trimmers and cut the offending nail, Miles kept his paw completely still. None of us made a sound for fear of breaking whatever spell he was under. At last, I released Miles from the net. He shook himself and headed back outside. His limp was gone.
It was impossible to look at Miles, who would surely make a full recovery with the help of some antibiotics, and at John and Susan, who cared so much about this feral cat, and not think about the ways they had agreed to take care of each other and how, because of this, they were all better off.
I've been a veterinarian for thirty years. For most of that time I've had my own house-call practice, going inside people's homes to care for their animals, meeting my human ...
