Getting to Root of Animals’ Problems : Wildlife: The patients of two Woodland Hills dentists include bears and cougars from a 160-acre preserve in Little Tujunga Canyon.

A 2-by-4 is not a typical dental instrument, but the patient was not a typical patient. It was a grizzly bear.

So, Philip Shindler and Bert Kaufman, two Woodland Hills dentists who normally ply their trade on human fangs, wedged a hunk of 2 by 4 between the jaws of the drugged grizzly before firing up a drill to perform a root canal.

The bear, a resident of the Wildlife Waystation in Tujunga, slept soundly as Shindler and Kaufman removed a dead nerve from jaws rarely touched by man--at least intentionally.

For the past five years, Shindler and Kaufman have forsaken the world of dental offices, insurance forms and squirming youngsters periodically for the world of larger, but more sedate--or sedated--patients. Although they rely on veterinarians to anesthetize everything from jaguars and lions to deer and chimpanzees, the two men are basically self-taught in animal dentistry.

Compared to humans, “they’re more cooperative,” Kaufman said of his furry patients. “But they don’t pay as well.”

Actually, the two men donate their services to the Wildlife Waystation, a 160-acre preserve in Little Tujunga Canyon, and the Los Angeles Zoo. Typically, veterinarians learn to clean and extract teeth on animals, but not much else. Shindler and Kaufman, both 34, perform more complicated procedures, such as root canals or putting crowns on tigers’ teeth.

This week, the dentists performed a root canal on a 120-pound cougar with a chipped tooth. It was a relatively simple procedure, Kaufman said.

On Sunday, the caged animal was drugged with a dart and then carried on a stretcher to the operating room. A half-hour later, the work was finished and handlers returned the big cat to its cage, its giant paws hanging limp over the side of the stretcher.

Shindler first offered his services to the Wildlife Waystation after touring the facility, which rehabilitates and houses wild animals. He met Kaufman socially a few months later and the two became a team.

Initially, the men worked at the Wildlife Waystation once a week to eliminate a backlog of cases, but now visit the compound when called by the facility’s veterinarians, usually every few months.

The work brings fringe benefits never discussed in dental school. “We’ve gotten to play with baby lions and baby mountain lions,” Shindler said.

“You can’t appreciate a 500-pound tiger until you’re standing next to it,” Kaufman said.

One of their more difficult cases involved a kangaroo with food caught in its teeth. Kangaroos have small, narrow mouths and the men labored to reach its teeth, Kaufman said.

At the Los Angeles Zoo, the men gave a dental exam to a koala. “That was kind of seat of the pants,” Kaufman said.

Over the years, the men have modified or built special equipment to handle extra large canines and molars.

Kaufman created a 24-inch laryngoscope, used to insert breathing tubes in the throat, after watching a veterinarian stick his arm down a tiger’s throat, all the way to the shoulder, to set the tube in place.

“That one was a real big cat,” Kaufman recalled. Laryngoscopes used on humans are about 5 inches long.

Their most memorable experience, the dentists said, involved a resilient jaguar named George. It was Kaufman’s first visit to the Wildlife Waystation.

The dentists tried to extract a fang, but the tooth wouldn’t budge. The men were new to animal dentistry and did not have a full understanding of feline skull structure. “We didn’t realize that about seven-eighths of the tooth was embedded in the bone,” Kaufman said.

Kaufman and Shindler positioned themselves on opposite sides of the operating table and jointly grabbed the pliers holding the stubborn tooth. Working like a pair of lumberjacks, they pushed and pulled until the tooth popped free.

“It was a whole lot of work,” Kaufman said. “We were sweating.”

The job required strength, but also skill to prevent the jaw from breaking, Shindler said. A few minutes later, after the operation was over, the job required speed.

As Shindler, Kaufman, their wives and four Waystation staff members waited for carriers to retrieve the jaguar, George suddenly stood on the operating table and jumped to the floor.

“He was real groggy,” Shindler said. Even so, he was conscious.

A trainer quickly snared the big cat with a noose, but not before the onlookers and dentists made an even quicker retreat to another room.

“I’ve never seen eight people move so fast,” Kaufman said.