A scary story, worth sharing widely for prevention –
The week before Christmas, I nearly killed my German shepherd.
His name is Dexter, and he’s 11 years old. It all began on a Saturday morning in Central Park, when he ran in playful pursuit after a young Labrador retriever. Afterward he limped home.
Yet again his arthritic leg was acting up — he also tore a ligament a few years ago — and in an effort to save money and a trip to the veterinarian, I gave him some high-dose ibuprofen. It was in the medicine cabinet, left over from my son’s root canal.
I am a doctor — a people one — so I know quite a bit about medicine. Little did I know how little I knew about veterinary medicine.