Dave had by now finished flushing the wound; Amira remained motionless, save for her rhythmical breathing. Removing the purulent material had revealed healthy granulation tissue underneath, but Dave’s attention was now drawn to what appeared to be a track in the wound. Using a pair of 15-cm crocodile forceps, he gently probed the wound, inserting them down the track which seemed to lead to the front of her shoulder. To our shock, the forceps disappeared up to their handle.
‘This looks like a migrating foreign body,’ Dave said in surprise. ‘Can you find anything on the front of her shoulder?’
I immediately turned my attention to the area Dave indicated, parting the thick fur and methodically feeling all over her shoulder. Moments later I found what I was looking for: a scab, just inside and in front of the shoulder blade. It was a healed entry wound.
‘There’s a scab here.’
‘Hold your finger over it, and I’ll reinsert the crocodile forceps and let’s see if they match up.’
They did. As I pressed against the scab, I could just feel the tip of the forceps.
‘Well, that’s your answer,’ said Dave, turning to Jason. ‘Something’s gone in at the front of her shoulder and migrated through, and then burst out in her armpit. It probably happened a couple of weeks ago. Does that square with anything you’ve noticed?’
‘Come to think of it, there were a couple of days around that time frame when she seemed to be obsessing with that front leg and licking it more than normal. I guess that was why. What sort of thing could it have been?’
‘We see this sort of thing a lot. It’s often caused by grass seeds in dogs. They get them caught in their thick fur and then they gradually progress, penetrating the skin and then migrating. Usually they don’t travel too far before the owner notices and we remove them, but they can sometimes move deep into the body.’
‘We had a case when I was at vet school,’ I piped up. ‘The dog unknowingly aspirated one. It had a cough for months that wouldn’t clear. Six months later it developed an abscess on its flank, and when we cut into it, we found the grass seed.’
‘Yeah, I’ve seen something similar with a grass seed,’ agreed Dave. ‘But a thorn or splinter could also cause it.’
‘Poor Amira … So what’s the plan?’ asked Tony.
‘We’ll flush the track and wound again, then give her a course of antibiotics and pain relief, and then we should probably re-examine her in a week or two, depending on how things are going. You’ll be able to administer medication to her in her food, won’t you?’
‘Yeah, no problem. If we bury the tablets in some meat, she should take it without a problem.’
‘Great.’
After flushing the wound again, Dave gently dried it with sterile swabs and then applied a wound cream before laying her leg down. We repositioned her on her side.
‘Before I turn her off, did you want to take some blood?’ I asked Dave.
‘Good, yes. Probably from her cephalic vein?’ The cephalic vein ran down the front of the leg below the elbow. Along with the jugular vein, it was generally the most accessible.
Taking off his gloves, Dave handed me the clippers, some vacuum blood tubes and a needle. I clipped a small patch of fur on the front of her leg, below the elbow and Dave then raised the vein for me. Filling the two vacuum tubes, the job was quickly done.
‘Anything else we need to do?’ Dave asked.
Unlike with our usual patients, whom we could recheck regularly, this was our one opportunity to ensure we had done everything we needed to. Once we woke her up, there’d be no second chance today.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Good. Let’s turn off the anaesthetic and move her back into her cage. Then we can reverse her and wake her up.’
I turned off the machine and disconnected the ET tube, then we manoeuvred her back into her cage and lifted her onto the floor. I untied the bandage that held the ET tube secure while Dave drew up the anaesthetic reversal agent. Happy that she was still stable, I removed the ET tube and pulled out her tongue to open her airway, Dave injected into her muscle, and we both evacuated the cage, closing and securing the door behind us.
After about ten minutes, Amira started to stir, slowly lifting her head in an attempt to orientate herself, but with it came a rhythmic head sway she was at first unable to control, so after a few seconds she collapsed down again. For a further few minutes a gently swishing tail was the only indication that she was rousing, but then she rocked onto her chest and powered herself to her feet. Her head continued to sway, and she was very unsteady on her feet as she circled the cage, but her tail eventually maintained her balance. As time elapsed, she slowly settled and assumed a more natural lying position, attentive to our presence as her ability to focus grew.
‘Best to leave her now, but I’d keep her shut in for the next hour or two until she’s fully awake,’ Dave advised Jason as we headed out.
‘Will do,’ Jason assured us, and we said our goodbyes. ‘And about the medication?’
‘She’s had all she needs for today. I’ll get it put up at the practice, for someone to pick up.’
That night I sat down and re-watched that second Planet Earth episode. As the snow leopard agilely navigated the cliff-face in pursuit of a markhor kid, the sequence came to life in an entirely new way as I now profoundly understood almost every detail, from the pad of her paws to the tip of her tail, of the animal’s unique anatomy, which allows it to thrive in such a hostile environment – where snow leopards dare.
Snow leopards: fast facts
Panthera uncia: The snow leopard
Distribution: The mountain ranges of Central and South Asia.
Description: The least aggressive, most secretive and camouflaged of the big cats, snow leopards are crepuscular, being most active at dawn and dusk. There is one species of snow leopard with two recognized sub-species.
Names: The male is called a ‘leopard’, the female a ‘leopardess’, and their young a ‘cub’. A group of snow leopards is called a ‘leap’.
Life span: About 15–18 years in the wild.
Habitat: Rocky regions or mountainous meadows, between 9,800 and 19,700 feet in the summer, coming down to forest areas between 3,900 and 6,600 feet in the winter.
Diet: Snow leopards are opportunistic carnivores, eating whatever meat they can find, including carrion and domestic livestock. They can kill animals up to four times their own weight, but readily take hares and birds, and are capable of killing most animals in their range except for an adult male yak. They can survive on a single bharal (or Himalayan blue sheep) for two weeks, consuming all edible parts of the carcass.
Gestation: 90–100 days. Cubs are born between April and June, with litter sizes of between 1 and 5.
Size: Up to 150 cm long, from nose to the base of the tail, their tail being nearly the same length again.
Weight: 320 grams at birth, reaching 27–55 kg as adults.
Growth: Leaving the den at about 4 months, cubs remain with their mother until independence at 18–22 months, and sexual maturity at 2–3 years.
Body temperature: 37.4–38.8 °C.
Adaptations for cold climate: A long, soft dense fur gives powerful insulation, short rounded ears reduce heat loss, large furry paws lend grip on rocky terrain and prevent sinking into snow, a long thick tail assists balance and stores fat and can therefore serve as a blanket for extra warmth, and a large nasal cavity helps the animal breathe the thin, cold air.