Veterinarians Who Harm Pets

Kingston Veterinarians Who HARM Pets

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Are there any good veterinarians left? Why am I so pessimistic, you may ask? There are definitely some in the Kingston ON area who should be avoided at all costs. In Ontario, complaints about veterinarians can be made to the College of Veterinarians of Ontario in Guelph.

The first one is Koos Toxopeus at the Kingston Mills Veterinary Clinic. On the morning of January 24, 2002, he admitted my 12 year old kitty to hospital. Snowball was a big, handsome long-haired pure white cat, who was very affectionate and social. He had not been eating, drinking, or going to the bathroom, his abdomen was grossly distended, he had lost weight, he was nauseous and lethargic, and stains on his fur indicated that he had been passing "tea-stained" (brown) urine. The vet admitted him immediately for urinalysis and a geriatric profile (blood work and EKG). He assured me that he thought Snowball was not dying and that he just had a infection, from which he would recover.

When I returned home, I did some research on Snowball's symptoms. Everything that I found pointed to Snowball being in end-stage hepatic (liver) failure. First thing in the morning, I called the vet, who advised me that none of the tests had been performed on Snowball yet. They wanted to obtain a urine sample prior to collecting blood. I instructed him to perform the urinalysis and to forget about the other tests. I said that, in spite of what he told me, my instincts were that Snowball was dying and that I wanted to bring him home, where he would be more comfortable. The vet refused to discharge Snowball. His practice, like most, had operated on a limited schedule over the recent holidays, and he had to make up for that. He kept insisting that the tests were necessary. I reiterated my concerns many times. In reply to my numerous questions, he kept assuring me that in his professional opinion, Snowball was not dying and that he would recover with antibiotic therapy. In spite of that, I still instinctively feared that Snowball was dying and wanted to bring him home. The vet finally said "If you love Snowball, you will let me do the tests.". Reluctantly, I agreed.

Later that day, after the urine and blood were collected, the vet advised me that even more blood tests had to be performed. He repeatedly assured me that Snowball's prognosis was very good and that there was enough blood left from the initial collection, that no more would have to be taken. Snowball was still not eating or taking fluids. After the test results were available, Snowball was injected with i.v. antibiotics.

The next day, January 26th, I spoke with the vet in the morning. He advised me that Snowball was going to get more i.v. antibiotics and that he should be discharged home later in the day. Snowball was still not eating or taking fluids. The vet provided me with his cell phone number, so that I could reach him if I had any more questions about Snowball. The vet still reassured me many times that Snowball was going to survive and that he was just battling a liver infection.

I got a call from the clinic shortly after 7:00 p.m., advising me that Snowball could come home. He was being discharged with two oral antibiotics and prednisone. I had about a 20 minute drive to the clinic and left immediately. After I paid the huge bill, the receptionist went to the kennel to retrieve Snowball for me. As soon as she entered the room, I heard these horrible terrified screams from Snowball. As she entered the reception area carrying Snowball, he was crying frantically. His voice was almost unrecognizable, it was so hoarse. In the nine years that he had lived with me, I had never heard any sounds even remotely similar to these emanating from this sweet little kitty. I called to him, saying "It's okay Snowball, mommy's here, you're going home.", but he was so terrified, that he did not seem to hear me. As he got closer to me, I noticed that he was facing my direction, but it appeared as though he were looking through me, not seeing me at all.

Before she put Snowball in my arms, as horrified as I was, I was even more horrified to see how weak and emaciated Snowball had become. His vet's appointment on the 24th had been at 11:30 a.m, shortly after which he was admitted to hospital. Now it was approximately 7:45 p.m. on the 26th, a little more than 2 full days since he had been admitted. Even though the reception area was rather dimly lit, from yards away, I could see Snowball's spinal vertebrae jutting out profusely. He was so skeletal, that you could see every bone in his frail little body. When I touched him, his bones were sharp and protruding. He was not like that when he was admitted.

I asked whether Snowball had been weighed prior to discharge. The reply was no, so I insisted that he be weighed immediately. The scales were behind the counter so the receptionist had to weigh him for me. Snowball had been admitted at 6.0 kg. On discharge, he was only 4.8 kg. In a little over 2 days, he had lost 1.2 kg (2.645 lbs.). Snowball was a large cat, with a very large frame. On June 22/98, he weighed 16.5 lbs (7.48 kg). On August 4/01 (first time at this vet's office), he weighed 14.5 lbs (6.6 kg). Snowball had licked most of the fur off his abdomen and around his penis. The vet's diagnosis was a urinary tract infection, but instead of giving him an antibiotic, he prescribed prednisone, to be administered until the itching stopped. On December 17/01, the vet again saw Snowball (15 lbs - 6.8 kg). Snowball had licked off a lot of fur on his back, in two large patches that were in a "v-shaped" pattern. This happened very quickly and there was a very thin layer of fur over the affected areas. The almost total bald spots were on either side of his spine, between his shoulders and abdomen. Dexamethasone was injected and Snowball was again prescribed prednisone. I now wonder if all of that prednisone precipitated Snowball's liver failure?

The receptionist advised me that the vet had left earlier in the day, to visit his mother in Ottawa. As soon as I arrived home, I tried to call him on his cell phone. There was no answer. There was not even a message, to identify that I had reached the correct number, or any way to leave a message. I tried several times, with the same results each time, thinking I had misdialed or something. I desperately wanted to discuss the condition in which he had discharged Snowball. I think that it was he turned off his phone.

During Snowball's admission, I had called the clinic many times. Each time, I was advised that Snowball was not eating or drinking. Why was he not put on i.v. fluids, to hydrate and nourish him?

When I spoke with him that morning, the vet advised me to call him every two days, to let him know how Snowball was doing.

When Snowball came home, his abdomen was so swollen and tender but hard to the touch, that he looked three times as wide as he should. I had to be extremely careful when picking him up, because he was just skin, bones, and long fluffy white fur, and it hurt him to pick him up. Many times when I tried to touch him lightly, he would flinch from the pain. He had much difficulty walking, swaying from side to side as he tried to get around. At first he tried to eat, but could only manage a little (less than 1 tsp of canned food). He was producing almost no urine. He had not taken solid food for over two days, so he was not defecating either. For days, the vet continued to assure me that Snowball's prognosis was good and that he would recover. After a couple of days, Snowball refused food again and he was not taking water.

The vet advised me that I could force-feed fluids to Snowball through a medicine dropper. I started to administer several teaspoons of water, alternating with several teaspoons of Whiskas cat milk, every couple of hours for a few days. I repeatedly reported to the vet that force-feeding him was stressing Snowball very much, but was continually assured that his prognosis was good. Snowball started to produce very small amounts of urine, which were a bright lemon (On the day of euthanasia, the vet said I had been keeping him hydrated). Because of the Whiskas cat milk, he was producing some unformed, watery feces, which smelled sweet. When he was first discharged, Snowball isolated for most of his time under the bed or in the bathtub, where it was cooler. The prednisone caused him to overheat. After several days, he stopped crawling under the bed and jumping into the tub. Snowball was purring a lot. The vet led me to believe that Snowball was improving and his prognosis was still very good. In fact, as soon as he recovered, the vet wanted to admit him for a battery of even more diagnostic tests!

I soon realized that the vet had given me many false hopes. Snowball was no longer jumping into the tub, because he was too weak. He was no longer crawling under the bed, because it hurt too much to try to squeeze under there anymore. As the hours drew on, I noticed that he was having much more difficulty ambulating and breathing. As I had for many years, I would call him for food by saying to him and the other kitties "Who's hungry? Who wants pussy food?". It would take much longer to get there, but he would still come to the kitchen looking for food. For the first couple of days, he had licked just some of the fluid from the canned food. Right up until his last day, he still came when called for food, but for the final days he would just smell it and walk away.

On the morning of February 7/02, after once again refusing food, poor little Snowball waddled very slowly (it is the only way I can describe how he tried to walk) down the hallway to the third bedroom where the litter boxes are. He stepped into the box and produced a very small amount of urine. When he stepped out, I lightly touched his abdomen as I moved him, so that I could to wipe him in order to see what colour his urine was. He immediately began to wretch violently, but of course he had no food or water in his stomach. Right to the end, my brave little kitty was independent and had to go to the litter box on his own! Watching him was heart-wrenching.

I immediately called the vet. Approximately two days earlier, he had first intimated that Snowball may not recover. When I spoke with him, he advised me that it was time to euthanize Snowball, that he no longer had any quality of life. I could do it within the next 45 minutes or so, or later that afternoon. The vet said to not force-feed him anymore and to withdraw meds (prednisone and antibiotics).

I took some photos of Snowball and videotaped him a little. I knew that this was the last day I would ever be able to photograph him. I did take some photos and videotape him for a few minutes over the days since he came home from hospital, but this would be my last chance to "immortalize" my brave little kitty. I was totally distraught and kept having to repeat even the most simple functions. Being in shock, I felt like I was totally "brain-dead".

Snowball had always been scared of trips to the vets (the only time he had to be in a car), so I asked the vet if I could give him something to help calm him for the (20 minute or so) car ride. I have a kitty, who is on phenobarbital for epilepsy, so he advised me that about two hours before leaving, I could given Snowball 1 - 15 mg tab of phenobarb. For his final hour at home, he was very sedated (he had been so weak). I put him in the pet taxi to leave the apartment 1/2 hour before his appointment. He started to cry as soon as I closed the door. He continued to cry for the elevator ride from the 5th floor to the basement, and then for the whole 20 minute drive to the vet's office. . Snowball had always talked a lot (he could talk your ear off!), but since being in hospital, he was too weak and his voice was too hoarse. In his last week, he almost never spoke. Could this be from crying in hospital while tests were being performed or specifically the result of one test? He could not tell me.

When we arrived at the vet's, Snowball was taken from me and weighed (for the sodium pentobarbital injection). While this was being done, the vet let it slip that he had performed an unauthorized test on Snowball during admission. He said that at least we know Snowball's heart is strong, it showed up on the ultrasound. He realized that he had made a mistake, most likely by the way I looked at him because I knew nothing about this test, and he immediately "dummied up". I was so distraught, that I could not say anything. His weight had increased to 5.0 kg. I asked the vet why it had increased by .2 kg and he said it was probably fluid retention as a result of liver cancer. My immediate concern was for the last few seconds I could spend with my little buddy, who had given me unconditional love for nine years, and who had nurtured so lovingly the other four kitties (including his own son) as they moved into the household with us. A moment later we were taken to an examination room. A couple of minutes after that, Snowball was given the injection. On February 7, 2002 at 5:10 p.m., as I held my right hand against his chest and my left arm around his shoulder, less than five seconds after receiving the injection (four seconds to be exact) , he took his final breath and his little head fell against my wrist.

I had Snowball cremated and eight days later, while I awaited his return from the crematorium, I brought the other four kitties to the vet for shots and a check-up. Snowball's son, Shadow (handsome kitty built like dad but with long black fur and a tiny white patches at his throat, chest, and tummy), was almost 9 years old. He had been producing some blood in semi-formed feces, when he ate dry formula. The vet made did not recommend any tests or treatments. Squirty Opal (handsome short-haired pure white kitty), who was about 6 years old, had been coughing. Even though I explained in detail the coughing, the vet kept insisting that he must have been sneezing. Midnight (handsome long-haired black kitty with the tiniest white star on his lower abdomen), about the same age as Shadow, was about 18 lbs and I thought his breathing was loud, but the vet did not comment on him at all. Muffin (a gorgeous black and white short-haired tuxedo kitty), who was barely 3 years old, had been a patient of his for months and was being treated for idiopathic epilepsy. As we were leaving the exam room, the vet made the only comment about any of kitties. He said that Squirty Opal might have a congenital heart problem and should lose weight.

The next week, I reported that Squirty Opal was still coughing. He was, as I described to the vet on Feb. 16th, on his "fours", very close to floor, with his head extended, when this happened. The vet prescribed Benadryl (25 mg three/day) for sneezing. I again insisted he was not sneezing. The vet was equally adamant that Squirty Opal was not coughing. That was not effective, so the vet prescribed the antibiotic Zeniquin for ten days and prednisone twice daily for three weeks. There was a little improvement, but the cough returned very soon after and gradually worsened. Increasingly, Squirty Opal was having more and more difficulty breathing, he was coughing more frequently (on a daily basis) for longer times, he did not want to be in my arms anymore (he used to spend much time in my arms and usually had to be with me most of the time), and he was no longer sleeping on the bed with the rest of us each night. He was sleeping in a pet bed, on the floor or on the couch (something more firm), and always had to have his head propped against something, so he could breathe. If he jumped onto the bed, he would have difficulty catching his breath afterwards. I had been in communication with the vet about all of this. On July 22, because his breathing was so difficult, I brought him to the vet on an emergency basis.

Squirty Opal was cyanotic and gasping for air when we arrived for the 10:00 a.m. appointment. The co-op student, who also examined and treated Snowball months before, advised me that she remembered Snowball. She made a comment, which I thought was inappropriate, that I must have really loved Snowball, to have paid for all those tests (remember, I only authorized blood tests, urinalysis and EKG)! I was too upset to think about anything but Squirty Opal's laboured breathing. He was, by now, gasping for air. After she examined him, the vet walked in and read her notes. He started to examine Squirty Opal and opened his mouth. I started to ask why he did that, when I noticed that Squirty Opal's tongue, lips, and ears were blue. I began to cry, realizing he was cyanotic, and asked the vet if he was dying. The vet matter-of-factly said yes. By now, it was close to 11:00 a.m. The vet wanted to admit Squirty Opal for 3 days and perform a battery of tests (blood tests including cardiac enzymes, ultrasound, EKG, echocardiogram, x-rays, and more). The vet said that initially an x-ray would provide the most information. Because he let it slip to me just moments before he euthanized Snowball that he had performed an ultrasound on him without my consent, I refused to admit Squirty Opal and put him through the same thing, especially since the vet already told me he was dying. He said it would be hours before he could do the x-ray and tried to get me to leave Squirty there. I insisted upon staying. The vet finally conceded and allowed me to stay with Squirty, while he was in a kennel, gasping for air and awaiting the x-ray. He had suggested I could wait with Squirty Opal in the car if I did not want to go home and return later (it was sunny, scorching hot that day, and the air was not working in my car), until they could do the test around 4:00 p.m. Or, we could stay in the waiting room, but that could be too stressful for Squirty Opal. He was trying to coerce me into leaving Squirty Opal, so he could have a better chance to convince me to leave him there for 3 days. At noon, they did the x-ray. The vet said Squirty Opal's chest was full of fluid and there might be a tumor in his chest. I asked him to aspirate some of the fluid, to provide some relief, but he refused. He still wanted to admit him for all the tests, but assured me the prognosis was the same. We left over 4 1/2 hours after we arrived with Enacard (vasodilator) for heart failure (cardiomyopathy was the verbal diagnosis) and a diuretic (Lasix) for fluid build-up. All the while we were there, Squirty Opal was cyanotic and gasping for air, but the vet did not even offer to put him on oxygen. He advised me to not given him medicine until we go home, because the Enacard might make him vomit.

We went back on the 29th. There was a little improvement, so the vet prescribed more Enacard and Lasix. I kept in touch with the vet. Squirty Opal only improved for a week or so, but was to stay on the meds. He started to cough more. He started panting after walking a few feet. He would gasp for minutes after walking less than 20 feet to go to the litter box, gasping for longer periods as each day passed. He was drinking over 1 liter of water per day and urinating very large clumps 8 to 10 times/day.

I rushed him to another vet on September 11/02, yes, exactly one year after 9/11 in New York City. The new vet had received Squirty Opal's medical records by fax prior to our arrival, but I don't think he had reviewed them. Less than one minute into the exam and history, he grabbed Squirty Opal, ran out of the room, and immediately put him on oxygen, because he was gasping and cyanotic. He came to me, to obtain Squirty Opal's recent history, and admitted him. He wanted to perform some x-rays. He told me I could call in a few hours to check on my kitty. When I phoned, the vet said that he aspirated some of the fluid, even though the first vet refused. The fluid was not interstitial as we had thought, but Squirty Opal's chest was full of lymphatic fluid. There were three possible diagnoses, none of which had anything to do with heart failure. The vet said I had two choices, euthanasia that afternoon or euthanasia first thing in the morning. The vet said I could not bring him home to say goodbye, because I could do nothing for him if he went into respiratory distress again. He was on call overnight for emergencies, but admitted he would only stop by the clinic a couple of times to check on things. They had been able to take him off the oxygen after aspirating a small amount of the fluid. When I arrived for the euthanasia, I was told that they had to administer oxygen again, shortly before I arrived. Also, he would be taken off oxygen for euthanasia and I would only have a couple of minutes to say goodbye. I only spent about a minute with my sweet baby, because he was in respiratory distress and I could not keep him in such pain for any longer. I had adopted him from the humane society in May/96 when he was about 1 year old, one month after my husband died from cancer. He had given me so much unconditional love for six years. At that point, all I could do for him was put an end to his misery. At 3:35 p.m. on September 11, 2002, my darling little Squirty Opal took his final breath. I had one hand under his chin and the other arm around his shoulder, as I felt his little body go limp as he passed from this world. The other vet (Toxic-peus) had misdiagnosed him and, had he aspirated some of the fluid as I had asked instead of trying to coerce me into authorizing all the other tests, Squirty Opal would have gotten the correct treatment. He also would have been spared all those weeks of laboured breathing, excessive thirst, exhaustion and many trips to the litter box. Even when he tried to eat, he would have to stop to try to take deep breaths between each mouthful of food. His prognosis may have been totally different. He might still be with me today, if he had received the proper treatment.

I filed complaints about the vet (Toxopeus - whom to myself I call Toxic-peus) with the Ontario College of Veterinarians in Guelph. Since he accidentally let it slip that he had performed an ultrasound on Snowball, and his co-op student told me she remembered all the tests that had been performed on Snowball, I am convinced that he performed many other procedures on Snowball without my consent. Remember, he advised me he did not have to take a second blood sample. Well, Snowball's throat was shaved on both sides and there was a puncture wound (I assumed both were for collecting blood) on each side. The vet told me there was no problem obtaining the blood, so why a second puncture of the jugular vein? The vet said he had given Snowball I.V. antibiotic injections twice. In his reply to the CVO complaints, he insisted that he only shaved Snowball's paw (the right front paw) for the I.V. antibiotic injections and his throat for the blood test. Why then, did Snowball have a large area on the rear of his right leg shaved? The vet denied giving Snowball an ultrasound, yet he told me how much it would cost to give Squirty Opal an ultrasound. In fact, he now denies that he even has an ultrasound machine. I sent an e-mail to the CVO, providing links to 6 from 50 or more sites I found in feline and veterinary medicine, in which it is directly stated that "an echocardiogram is an ultrasound of the heart". He does have an electrocardiogram machine. The vet denied misdiagnosing Squirty Opal. He denied performing unauthorized tests on Snowball. He denied that Snowball had lost so much weight (6.0 to 4.8 kg) in just over two days in his care. He denied telling me that Snowball had not eaten or taken water during his admission (the medical records submitted to CVO indicate that Snowball was eating and drinking in hospital), yet on unaltered video evidence I provided, copied directly from the original 8 mm cassette to VHS, I stated that Snowball was home for about two days before going to the litter box and within 1/2 hour of arriving home from hospital, stated his significant weight loss. I provided a log with the video, and highlighted just how Snowball's condition had deteriorated so much during his admission. I also provided photographs of Snowball and Squirty Opal. The vet admitted that Squirty Opal was cyanotic on July 22. In one part of his reply to the CVO, he said he did not think he needed oxygen therapy. In another part, he stated that he did not administer oxygen, because it would only provide temporary relief for a cat in heart failure. There will be a formal review at CVO on September 8/04. I do not know how long it will take to get the results.

Shadow took very ill suddenly on June 7 of this year. Like Snowball his father and his mother Misty (who lives with my sister) and one brother JD (who lives with my nephew - there was only one litter before all kitties were "fixed") , he did not like to be picked up and carried. I thought he was finishing his meals, but Midnight Dew was. His tummy had not gotten smaller, and his fur was very long and thick, so I did not realize that he had gone from 17.6 to 11.4 lbs until I had to rush him to the vets. He had been straining in the litter box. He would leave the box if I walked into the room while he was there, so I was not sure if the could not urinate or defecate. The vet kept him for x-rays, after the exam. He called me to tell me that the x-ray showed a large tumor in Shadow's abdomen, that was impinging upon and blocking his intestines. It was causing much pain and preventing Shadow from defecating. Why did the first vet (Toxic-peus) not even offer to do an x-ray when I told him that Shadow was producing blood in his feces? He had said that some blood in the feces was normal. The vet gave Shadow prednisolone, to hopefully help reduce swelling and pain. His prognosis was poor - the tumour was most likely malignant and Shadow was dying. Shadow showed some interest in food, because of the prednisolone, but not for long. He began to eat less each day, and he was taking no more than 1 tsp. of canned food three times/day. Even though I knew the problems dry food caused before, I allowed him to nibble on his favourite food, Science Diet Light dry formula. It was the only food he really showed interest in and had always been his favourite. Since he was dying, I could not deny him that. At my request, the vet recommended Eukanuba maximum calorie food as a possible way to entice Shadow to eat. If necessary, I could add water and force-feed it to him with a medicine syringe. The vet put aside only 3 - 170 g cans for when I picked up Shadow. I refused to force-feed Shadow and put him through the stress his father had endured, to extend his life for just a few hours or day. He ate less each day. He produced less feces every day, until he could only produce tiny dots of wet feces with blood. He was producing large clumps of urine twice daily, which meant he was consuming enough fluids to hydrate himself and rid his body of waste, so he was not becoming uremic. He was also exhibiting signs of more pain. I was in contact with the vet, because he knew that any day I would have to return to euthanize my baby, Snowball's son. Late on the 16th, I noticed that Shadow was crying out in pain and soon realized it was less than one minute before entering the litter box and sometimes while in the litter box. He was going many times, trying to defecate. The next day I spoke with the vet and we decided it was time to euthanize Shadow, because the prednisolone was no longer working. I spoke with the vet later that day and before noon the next day. The vet told me he knew how difficult it had been for me to make the decision to euthanize Shadow. He said that I could buy some time for Shadow by administering an enema. It might alleviate some of his pain, but would not change his prognosis. It might buy only a few hours or a day, but no more than two days at best. On June 18, 2004 at 7:15 p.m., Shadow, whom I had first met when just a couple of hours old and had moved in with me at 6 weeks of age, took his final breath in my arms. He was lying on the exam table and I had one arm under his chin with my other arm around his side. At the moment the vet took his paw to inject the sodium pentobarbital into his catheter, he turned around and looked directly into my eyes. My instinct was to try to stop it (was it a sign?). It happened in a millisecond and logically I knew I could not stop it, but time seemed to slow down, like in the moment before a car crash. I think he looked at me, hoping I would let him get away from whatever the vet was about to do to him. While looking into those beautiful green eyes, I felt him go limp and instantaneously his pupils dilated. I knew in that instant, that he was gone from me forever.

Midnight Dew, last year in September, was admitted to hospital for constipation. He had enemas over 2 days, was sent home for the weekend, then re-admitted for 2 more days, until he defecated. His heart was too enlarged and weak, that even going to the bathroom was putting too much strain on it (I now put a pinch of psyllium and some extra water in his canned food to help him go to the bathroom) and he still enjoys Science Diet Light kibble. X-rays showed that his lungs were full of tumours (also bronchial lungs), he has a mediastinal mass, a large tumour on his liver, megacolon, and other problems. The vet did not think he would live until Christmas, or even another six months. He was discharged on 1/2 tablet children's aspirin twice weekly, because on exam his pulse was barely perceptible. By some miracle, he is still with me, though he is growing weaker each day, especially in this past week. He is still most pleasant, communicative, and snuggly. Before Muffin was even born, I grew a catnip plant in my apartment one summer (1997), but Midnight Dew was the only one who liked it. I planted one for him this summer, in a small planter, but because I planted it so late, I feared that he would pass before he could enjoy it. He has been enjoying a leaf or two (depending on the leaf size), every day or two for a few weeks, but has not shown much interest for the past couple of days. Muffin will sniff it, but I think that the fresh catnip leaf is too strong for her.

Muffin is a little over 6 1/2 now and on 1/2 tablet of phenobarb three times/day. She recently had struvite crystals. Like her older brothers, she is a little snuggle bunny and cute as a button.

The other clinic to avoid is St. Lawrence Veterinary Services. An employee (Sue) was very rude on January 28/04 , when I called to request a phenobarb renewal for Muffin. She accused me of getting meds elsewhere, even though I explained that when I got the last renewal, I had not used up much of the previous prescription. I even brought the balance of the prescription, empty bottles from the previous year, and bills for each. She could confirm it by checking her file and doing the math. I wrote a letter of complaint to her bosses but no one ever mentioned it to me. She was very rude to me on August 17/04, when I called to purchase more special diet food for Muffin's struvite crystals. She refused, even though I explained that Muffin's problem had never completely resolved, and the vet had advised me that Muffin had to be on the diet exclusively for 4 full weeks before submitting to another urinalysis. I had called her office when Shadow suddenly became ill in June , but she would not give me an appointment, stating they were too busy. She sent me to a sister clinic, Kingston Veterinary Hospital (she really refused the appointment because I had dared to write a letter of complaint about her). I explained how traumatic and stressful it had been to lose Shadow, but she showed no empathy or compassion. She was getting revenge on me mailing a complaint about her. For all I know, she could have destroyed it and management might not have even seen it, otherwise would someone not have talked to me about it or written to me, or at least even apologized to me for her behaviour? She insisted that Muffin would have to have another urinalysis and full examination. I asked for the vet to call me. She phoned me a few minutes later, to refuse. I called again, about two minutes later, to make sure she knew I still wanted to talk to the vet. Over 1 1/2 hours later, I was still waiting by the phone, but the vet did not call. I phoned to see if the vet had gotten my message, and another lady answered the phone (that is a rare occurrence). She said she would give the vet my message. A minute later Sue called me, and she again was rude and abrasive. She knew I am on a small disability pension and could not afford the test, exam, and food, with having to renew Muffin's phenobarb soon, and add to that the extra vet bills when I lost Shadow (not to mention the emotional trauma). She would not even let me pick up a recuperative blend of food, to help Muffin until I could afford the urinalysis. Then on September 3rd, I called to order a phenobarb renewal for Muffin. The technician answered the phone. She put me on hold, checked Muffin's file, and said there would be no problem, the vet just had to officially authorize her to fill the prescription and that was, as she told me, just a technicality. Muffin is urinating and I had to decide which took immediate precedence, so it had to be the anticonvulsant meds. ABRUPT WITHDRAWAL OF ANTICONVULSANTS CAN RESULT IN SEIZURES, STATICUS EPILEPTICUS (SEIZURES LASTING 1/2 HOUR OR LONGER AND DEATH). Muffin's serum phenobarb levels were tested and normal on April 30/04. The only prerequisite for getting phenobarb renewals is that she have a blood test for phenobarb once each year. She was also examined on April 30, but that was not legally required for prescription renewals. A few minutes later I received a very nasty call from Nancy Sorenson, coordinator for their three hospitals (St. Lawrence Vets, Kingston Veterinary Hosp., and Barriefield Animal Hospital. She said that I had been giving them trouble for over two (2) years and they were discharging me as a client. This was Sue's final revenge. She told Nancy Sorenson that I had been causing trouble for over two years. I never had a problem there until January 28/04, when Sue was very rude to me and I wrote the aforementioned letter of complaint about her. My only other problems with the clinic have been directly with Sue, and those were because she was confrontational with me. Because of Sue's lies to Sorenson, I have been advised that I have to find a new vet. SUE IS JUST A (can you say bee-atch?) RECEPTIONIST, BUT APPARENTLY CARRIES A LOT OF WEIGHT. I have been bringing my kitties there for over 2 years, since Squirty Opal became worse under the care of Toxic-peus at Kingston Mills. I had been at the clinic many times, with Muffin and Midnight. I was in shock by how Sorenson treated me. I told her I wanted copies of Midnight's and Muffin's medical records. SUE HAD LIED ABOUT ME. I CANNOT TRUST HER TO NOT ALTER THE MEDICAL RECORDS. She refused and I advised her it was illegal to refuse. She phoned me back two minutes later and agreed to allow Muffin a one week phenobarb prescription renewal. Then, I called St. Lawrence to request the records. Sue refused. I called Laurie at College of Veterinarians in Guelph. She advised me that it was illegal to refuse to give me a copy of the medical records and told me to have them call her right away. I then called Sue, who still refused. Then I gave Sue the told-free number at CVO, told her to ask for Laurie, at which time she rudely interrupted me and agreed to photocopy the files. I then called the clinic where Shadow had been treated and euthanized. When I explained everything, in full absolute detail, to a woman named Jo, she told me that recuperative food should have been provided for Muffin and I could get some there, even after I reminded her how Nancy and Sue treated me. She said that Muffin should not have been refused her phenobarb renewal. Then she totally shocked me when she asked why I had taken so much abuse from Sue since January. As I said, Sue carries a lot of weight for just a receptionist, with no formal medical training, unless she "pulls" more than "strings". There must be a "good" reason why she gets away with being rude and abusive with customers, just like Nancy. She obviously did not pass along my messages to the vets. Before I wrote the letter of complaint about her in January, I had always gotten return calls from a vet, usually within minutes. In June, when Shadow was treated and subsequently euthanized at their other clinic (7th - 18th) I had received prompt calls from the vet, again usually within minutes. I could not believe that the vet, who treated Shadow at Kingston Vets and who knew me, would not return my 2 phone calls on September 4 for the phenobarb renewal. Sue told me it was the same vet (Dr. Mehr). I said "Doesn't he work at your other clinic?". She replied "Yes, but he is working here today.". Jo offered to look into the matter and how I was treated. She volunteered to have the medical records I requested sent to her office, so I don't have to be subjected to any more abuse by Sue. I can only surmise that Sue must have quite a stellar reputation within the group of 3 clinics, based on Jo's comments about her. I did not hear from Jo yet and it is now Sept. 14. I desperately need phenobarb for Muffin. Also, with Midnight Dew's health problems, I don't know what to do. We no longer have a vet.

P.S.: My problem with St. Lawrence Vet coincidentally began after I filed a complaint with the College of Veterinarians of Ontario in Guelph. I had been warned that, if I filed a complaint against Toxopeus at Kingston Mills that there would be retribution. I was assured by CVO that it was safe to file a complaint, even though I expressed my concerns. I was told that he (Toxic-peus) would make sure I would never be able to find a vet to care for my kitties. Looks like Toxic-peus will not be happy until he has killed all of my kittens!!!

On December 2, 2004, I made an appointment with Dr. Brian Overgaard at Frontenac Animal Hospital. The appointment was given to me by Carrie and was for 11:30 a.m. on December 3, 2004. Someone telephoned me from the office at 9:32 a.m. on the 3rd, stating that Dr. Overgaard would not see Muffin. Muffin has been without anti-seizure medication (phenobarbital) since St. Lawrence Vets refused to renew her prescription. She has been having very bad grand mal seizures, which are getting progressively worse. Her seizure at 4:20 p.m. on December 2 lasted almost five (5) minutes. Her urinary tract problem, with struvite crystals and blood has gotten much worse as well. St. Lawrence Vets refused to provide her with the special diet that would make it better. The person at Frontenac Animal Hospital told me that they were cancelling the appointment, because I had filed a complaint against Toxopeus (aka Toxic-peus) had been black-listed by Toxopeus at Kingston Mill Vets, St. Lawrence Vets, Kingston Vets, and Barriefield Animal Hospital. They are refusing treatment for a very, very ill kitty.

I called the CVO to advise them what had happened. They told me that it is not "unethical" or "immoral" for a veterinarian to refuse treatment to a very sick or dying kitty or other pet.