Creature Discomfort : Owners Try to Corral Their Cats and Dogs at Rabies Shot Clinic

It was sort of like the first day of school, but with dogs for children and pet owners as parents.

Toted like rolled-up newspapers, some very small dogs fitted perfectly under their masters’ arms. The bigger ones hauled their handlers, who desperately clutched taut leashes.

The cats, famously unsocial creatures, stared warily down from their cages, bobbing along in their owners’ hands just above the sea of canines.

“We have a big yard at home, so she doesn’t really see many other dogs,” Gary Engleberg of Northridge said of Pebbles, his muscular but gentle 4-month-old Rottweiler.

Puzzled, Pebbles stood obediently near Engleberg, as smaller, bold dogs marched by and challenged her with barks.

“If I let her go she would probably go up and lick her,” said Engleberg, referring to one dog determined to pick a fight with Pebbles.

The Englebergs were among about 50 pet owners who came to a rabies vaccination clinic at the Reseda Recreation Center sponsored by the Southern California Veterinary Medical Assn. It was one of about 50 clinics the association holds around the Los Angeles area yearly, including a handful in the San Fernando Valley.

On that recent muggy Valley evening, young men hustled up and down the nearby basketball courts and lovers embraced on the benches beneath the trees as pet owners shared animal stories and cadged medical advice from the volunteer veterinarians.

“The people are always very nice,” said Dr. Richard Smollin, a soft-spoken veterinarian from the Winnetka chapter of the association who staffed the Reseda clinic. “They treat their pets like their children.”

Once there, the owners filled out the forms so familiar to anyone visiting a doctor’s office for the first time, except these forms were on behalf of their pets, including the animal’s name, age, sex, breed and name of regular vet.

Meanwhile the animals grew restless, smelling and barking at each other, wrapping their leashes around their masters’ legs. One dog on a red leash got loose and sprinted off, ducking around the corner of the building much more smoothly than its pursuing man master.

When owners and pets approached the service table, some of the animals even displayed a typically childlike response at the sight of the hypodermic needle.

A whining black Chihuahua buried her head in her owner’s chest as if trying to hide.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, little one,” the woman said softly, kissing her on the head.

Like the other animals, Smollin put the Chihuahua on the table and sunk the needle swiftly behind one shoulder. The dog did not seem to notice anything but the noisy patio. “They probably don’t know what’s happening to them,” Smollin said.

Dogs have tougher skin and a higher pain tolerance, he explained. Plus, they were probably distracted by the other animals.

But not all went smoothly.

A frightening growl suddenly came from behind the table. “Grrrrrrr. Grrrrrrr,” Joker, a fearsome-looking white pit bull with killer eyes, was threatening to attack a smaller dog--who was wide-eyed with fright--as Joker’s owner, Jose Ojeda, barely held him in check.

Joker appeared to be ready to launch himself at every person and animal he saw and Ojeda was having a hard time controlling him.

“Who’s the owner?” a concerned Smollin asked.

“I am,” an embarrassed Ojeda responded. “But I’m afraid of him.”

The two tried to put Joker on the table. But the lean dog twisted and growled, jerking the two men from side to side. They tried to hold him, choking him with two leashes, but it was no use. Smollin had to yank his hand back several times as Joker’s teeth snapped shut on empty air where the vet’s fingers had been a fraction of a second before.

Smollin gave up trying to help Joker.

“The owner’s afraid of him,” Smollin said, shaking his head. “If the owners can’t handle the animals, it’s not worth it.”

Inevitably, there are one or two beastly pets like Joker at each clinic, he said.

Otherwise, most clients are pleasant.

Some proudly share stories about their pets. Allen Hogle pointed out that cat Molly, 6, just happened to be the mother of Skunky, 5.

Seems that Molly leaves the house frequently and doesn’t return for up to four days, he said. “I always feel sort of depressed until she shows up again.”

He also has a 19-year-old cat at home, he said, older than another he had who died at 17.

The last words heard from a man being hauled away by his strong dog were about how he named him “Lucky.”

“We found him near Lucky supermarket,” he yelled over his shoulder.

The animals may not exactly be children, but medical care for them is nonetheless important, Smollin said.

Some viruses, like Corona and Bordetella, can cause severe diarrhea, vomiting and even death, he said. Rabies can have worse consequences because it can be transferred to humans who get bitten by an infected animal.

Pet owners have traditionally taken precautions against rabies, which does not seem to be increasing locally, he said. But other illnesses, like Lyme disease, which is carried by ticks, are increasingly common.

Among pet owners at the clinic, the health of their animals and potential liability--if their pet bites someone--brought them to get the shots.

“I’m responsible for their health,” said Karen Cadle, who brought two kittens. “If you have pets, you need to take care of them. There are too many pets that should not have been born.”

Like adoptive parents, some owners talked about where they got their animals.

“We rescued him from the animal shelter,” Barbara Hulac of Tarzana said about her terrier mix named Sky. She and her husband, Ed, have seven children and the house was getting kind of empty since they grew up.

“We keep him like he’s a member of the family,” Ed Hulac said. “We wanted to have another child in the house.”