It’s always a relief when a pet owner can break the tension with humour when a vet, uncertain of the level of emotional attachment, wouldn’t dare.
A seriously unwell rabbit presented to me, several years ago in Sydney. He had stopped eating for 24 hours and had been fitting, with persisting neurological signs of disease in the balance systems of the brain. Bunny was tenaciously clinging to life but, given the tendency for rabbits to deteriorate precipitously, the prognosis was grave.
Possible diagnoses were Encephalitizoon, Pasturella brain abscess, or a variety of other nasties, mostly terminal. The owner didn’t want to throw in the towel straight away, so we decided to give empiric therapy a try: hit it with a high dose of broad spectrum antibiotic, IV fluids to maintain hydration, and hope for the best.
When calculating the dose of antibiotic, I was pondering out-loud the rabbit’s body weight. The owner, a chef by trade, sized-up bunny and announced: ’30min, at 220ºC, I’d say about 1.5kg.‘