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Rebecca Degrasse waits while her cat Chocolate has her heart checked.

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(PHOTO BY KIRSTEN MURPHY)

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The fur was flying

KIRSTEN MURPHY
Nunatsiaq News

Visiting vets vow to treat Iqaluit’s growing pet population, as long as they’re needed

Twice each year, the Nunavut Research Institute in Iqaluit turns into a temporary animal hospital catering to 200 pets — mostly cats and dogs.

The four-day clinics are held by Dr. Don Floyd and Dr. Susan Rouleau, veterinarians based in Montreal. The husband and wife team have visited Iqaluit faithfully since 1984, when they first came at the invitation of Iqaluit Rotary Club member Yoop Saunders.

During their recent Oct. 24-27 stopover, the NRI building was vibrating with panting creatures. Some animals mingled peacefully with their fellow fur-balls. Others were less restrained and were removed outside to wait.

For Floyd and Rouleau, it was business as usual.

"The pace is easier up here, more relaxed. And people are very appreciative," Floyd says.

"Every year has been interesting," Rouleau adds.

Veterinary medicine is unique in Nunavut, Floyd says. Because of the cold weather, pets rarely get fleas, ear mites or heart worms.

But eastern Arctic dogs often suffer from a canine tapeworm found in caribou meat. Another common Arctic disease is parvo virus, which breaks out in dog teams, Floyd says.

"We vaccinate a certain population, but there is still a large portion that doesn’t get vaccinated and that can decimate another population," he says.

The couple’s 14-hour days in Iqaluit begin at 7:30 a.m. Mornings are spent in an overheated mini lab that serves as an operating and examining room. Surgeries include spaying, neutering, declawing and cyst removal.

Specialized procedures, such as eye and bone surgeries, are reserved for Floyd’s Montreal clinic. Afternoon and evenings appointments are dedicated to general check-ups, which include vaccinations for rabies, distemper and parvo virus.

When Floyd locks the door at the end of each day, about 50 animals have crossed his path.

Some animals are unique.

"Liberace the rat had a big abcess removed from its neck," says volunteer Bryon Doherty, when asked about unusual appointments.

About 35 Rotary volunteers run the four-day clinics in shifts. They book appointments, monitor the waiting room and file animal health cards.

And don’t say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. This year, after two decades of dealing with cash and cheques, Visa and Mastercard were added as forms of payment.

"It helps having volunteers with retail experience," one volunteer says.

Floyd says he relies on the volunteers.

"We couldn’t do it without them. I don’t think most people realize the time and effort this requires," Floyd says.

But it’s residents who say they feel fortunate. The visiting vets save pet owners time and money they’d otherwise spend to have their pets poked and probed in the south.

"We’re really lucky. I couldn’t afford to take time off work to go to Ottawa," says Rodney Corkum, a school teacher who brought his English bulldog in for gland surgery. "Sending him down [alone] would be too traumatic."

Most clients are from Iqaluit. Over the years, though, people have travelled from Qikiqtarjuaq, Pangnirtung, Cape Dorset and Kimmirut for veterinarian appointments, Floyd says.

Limited but quality animal care is available in Iqaluit. Heather Priest, a biologist with the Nunavut Wildlife Management Board, is a certified vet. Priest sees animals at her in-house clinic on weeknights after 5 p.m.

However, she’s not equipped to perform major surgeries. Furthermore, she moved to Iqaluit to work as a biologist, not as a full-time vet, Floyd says.

But Floyd doubts that Iqaluit, at present, has enough pets to support a full-time veterinary clinic. Pet owners from other communities would boost the client-base, but the cost of inter-community travel would be prohibitive, Floyd says.

"In the south, a community of 6,000 people can support a vet because you can draw from nearby communities. You don’t have that here," he says.

Thanks for the memories

Working in Iqaluit has had it’s highlights.

"When Bill Mackenzie was alive, we neutered his goat. That was different," Floyd says with a chuckle. "I had to read up on goat medicine."

Indeed, the couple recalls several house calls to Mackenzie’s Apex "farm" to treat his menagerie of dogs, birds, wild boars and pigs.

"He’d always have glass of Scotch for us," Floyd says of the post-clinic visits.

"Or grappa, but usually he’d pull out a nice bottle of Scotch and we’d sit down."

To this day, the Rotary club finds in-kind donations to cover the cost of airfares, freight and accommodation. Funds raised from Monday night Rotary bingos and the travel bonanza raffle pay for Floyd and Rouleau’s meals. The Nunavut Research Institute donates the use of the building.

In 1994, a growing population and demand for more pet-care services resulted in an additional visit — one in April and an extra one in October.

The rate for spaying an animal in Iqaluit is the same rate Floyd charges in Montreal.

"Which is cheaper than Toronto," Rouleau pipes up while packing their supplies.

Comparing four days at his Baker Animal Hospital clinic — Canada’s oldest continuous veterinary practice — with their grueling 14-hour days in Iqaluit, makes Floyd smile.

"I don’t work as hard or as long in my clinic," he jokes of life in Montreal.

Long-term Iqaluit residents Bill and Jan Riddell met Floyd and Rouleau in 1984. Over the years, the Riddells have come to depend on Floyd and Rouleau’s expertise.

"On occasion we’ve had to send one of our animals to Montreal and we know they’re in good hands. We have complete confidence in them, " Jan says.

Down the road

In the event someone opens a full-time veterinary clinic in Iqaluit, Floyd and Rouleau will reconsider future visits. Their next visit is set for April 2003.

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