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Philly veterinarian offers in-home pet hospice

Lap of Love provides medical, euthanasia services for dying pets.

Lap of Love is a growing network of veterinarians who specialize in pet hospice. (Steven M. Falk / Staff Photographer)
Lap of Love is a growing network of veterinarians who specialize in pet hospice. (Steven M. Falk / Staff Photographer)Read more

FLOYD SLOWLY hobbles out of the kitchen on his gangly old legs. He wobbles past a portrait of himself in the living room and several framed photos of his life. This is when he was a kid. This is when he went to the beach. This is him with his best friend.

He's had a good life, and he has been loved, maybe even a little more than most.

A man now visiting Floyd in his living room will bring him death soon, when life becomes too much to bear. He will bring it to Floyd at his home, in the arms of those he loves the most.

Until then, the man, veterinarian Brad Bates, brings Floyd, a 13-year-old boxer, comfort from his failing body, and he brings compassion to his owners, partners Jim Ballinghoff and Christopher Cook of Center City. Boxers usually don't live past 10.

"We had hoped and thought Floyd would die in his sleep, but we found out that rarely happens," Cook said. "When you reach the end of your relationship with your pet, they say you'll know it's time, but it's so much more complicated than that."

Bates is part of a growing network of Lap of Love veterinarians in 45 U.S. locations who offer pet-hospice care and in-home euthanasia. He was the first in Pennsylvania when he began in May 2012.

Dani McVety, 31, a veterinarian in Tampa, Fla., started the company in 2009, inspired by her time volunteering as a human-hospice worker in college.

When she first told others of Lap of Love's mission to provide pet hospice and in-home euthanasia, she said, people either told her it was a wonderful idea or would marvel at her desire to do something so difficult.

"I'd look at them and say, 'This is such an honor,' because it is," she said. "It's an honor to be a part of that moment for the family and to handle that with compassion."

'It's been very hard'

Floyd, who has made his way into the living room now, is resting his long limbs on soft bedding that Ballinghoff has placed on the hardwood floor. Ballinghoff kneels, cradling Floyd between his own legs and petting his once ebony-and-chestnut fur that long ago faded to gray and rust.

Ballinghoff gently kisses Floyd on his head.

"It feels like it's been a fast progression; it's been very hard," he says. "It's really hard because he doesn't seem uncomfortable."

Bates agrees. Floyd's big, watery eyes are still happy. He still smells and hears. His breath still stinks. His front legs work well - it's just the bum back ones that won't listen.

"He looks happy, he really does." Bates says. "But we also don't want to feel guilty at the end that we went too far."

Bates and Ballinghoff talk about the medications Floyd is taking. They talk about Lap of Love's quality-of-life scale, going over Floyd's appetite, his hydration and his interaction.

They discuss last-ditch things they can do if Floyd takes a turn for the worse, but Bates again cautions about going too far.

"The ups and downs will destroy the bond and your feelings," he says to Ballinghoff. "Don't go on an emotional roller coaster, because you're doing a great job.

"You've not only given him four months, you've given him four months of a good life."

'I absorb people's guilt'

Pet-hospice cases like Floyd account for only about 20 percent of Bates' clients. Most of his patients are euthanasia cases he meets for the first time. "A lot of people find me in an emergency, when their vet is too busy or it's late," he said.

Floyd has been his longest hospice case so far. They met in May, when his owners' vet recommended Bates.

When Cook and Ballinghoff contacted Bates, he said, they didn't ask him the one question he dreads: "Do you think it's time?"

"It weighs on my emotions when people ask me that, because it's almost always that the owner wants to do it but they just want someone to say, 'Do it,' " Bates said. "I accept it. I absorb people's guilt because if I can go away and have a client not feel guilty for doing what they should, that is an amazing thing."

When Bates met Ballinghoff and Cook, he knew they weren't ready to let go of Floyd."They did not need me to say, 'It's time,' " Bates said. "They needed me to say, 'There is something I can do for him.' "

On top of stomach cancer, hip dysplasia and arthritis, Floyd has repercussions from a clot that blocked blood flow to his spinal cord and left his hind legs partially paralyzed when he was 2.

"With love and rehab, he came around," Cook said. "But there were a couple months then where he was completely dependent on us. We just gained this sixth sense with him."

Bates, 31, grew up in Flushing, Queens, New York. He has a bachelor's degree in animal science from Cornell University, a master's in the same discipline from Drexel University and a veterinary degree from the University of Pennsylvania.

He knows all about the sixth sense that Cook feels with his dog. Bates has felt a kinship with animals since he was 7, when he knew he wanted to become a vet.

"I've always had a connection with animals," he said. "I feel I truly can tell what a dog and cat feels just by looking at them. I feel it. I've always felt that way."

'Ready for bed'

Ballinghoff and Cook love to talk about Floyd.

They speak of how he likes the beach, how they used to take him to meet up with Floyd's brother in Central Park and how they plan their vacations around where he could go.

The large orange-and-black buggy in the corner of the living room is Floyd's so he can still make trips to the park, even if his owners have to push him and push through their mild embarrassment.

Floyd thrusts his weary limbs off the soft cushion and stands up, staring at the stairs.

"He's ready for bed," Cook says.

Ballinghoff slips a sling under the lower part of the dog's body and, as Floyd uses his front legs to climb up the stairs, Ballinghoff carries his back legs up in the sling.

Cook looks up after Floyd.

"I've never felt so bonded to someone who doesn't speak the same language," says Cook.

A hands-on throwback

In-home hospice and in-home euthanasia visits that Bates offers through Lap of Love are $250 during the day and $280 for late evenings and weekends. Bates also does phone and email consultations free of charge.

It's not just an emerging field of veterinary care, but also a throwback to an old one, when the town vet would come to a farm with his doctor's bag and use his hands to diagnose an animal instead of relying on a machine at his office.

In a field that's expanded to include veterinary specialties like surgery, oncology and dermatology, many people can't afford to provide their pets with the treatments they are told the animals need to stay alive.

Although Bates may not be able to treat a dog's cancer at home, he can treat the accompanying symptoms like vomiting and pain.

"It's a throwback to the old times when we didn't put the dog through chemotherapy and surgery and radiation," Bates said. "We just made sure they were comfortable, and when the time came, we just did what we were supposed to do."

Bates said what he provides that office veterinarians can't is time. His typical euthanasia visits are 30 to 40 minutes, but he's given as much as five hours to a client in need.

"If they need time to talk or to be with their pet, I give it to them, because if you speed them along, they will feel guilty and they are destroyed forever," Bates said. "We're taught to make ourselves feel guilty. I tell them you don't have to be. You are giving them the best death possible."

The client reviews on Bates' Lap of Love page are revealing.

" 'Wonderful' probably sounds like a strange word to use in the context of losing my beloved cat Edie, but I can truly say the whole experience was wonderful," wrote Maria Norman of Philadelphia. "I can't overstate how much peace of mind this has given me."

Kristin Matthews of North Wales wrote: "Simply stated, because of Dr. Brad, I am completely at peace with the passing of my 16-year-old canine child."

Others mention the clay paw-print casts Bates makes for each client, and just about everyone uses the word compassion.

A favorite day

Ballinghoff won't talk about how they will handle Floyd's last day. He can't.

So Cook talks about their favorite day with Floyd, when the three of them were on the Chesapeake Bay, and Cook and Ballinghoff left Floyd behind on a dock while they went paddle-boating.

Floyd stood on that dock barking for his owners until he broke loose and jumped in after them, even though he had never swum.

He went out to his family, but would not get in the boat when he reached them. Instead, he insisted on leading them back to the dock, back to safety.

They were fine, of course, but Floyd's gesture was born of so much unbridled love and concern that it will forever stick with the men who love him.

When Floyd's time comes, he will be fine, too. He will not be alone in a boat in strange waters without guidance. He will be cradled in the arms of his owners at home. He will be led safely to the next shore by Bates.

It will be an act of unbridled love and compassion.

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