Torsten Diesel, a board member of Iqaluit Qimussiqtiit Katimajingit, or the Iqaluit Dog Team Society, said having a full-time vet would make it easier to deal with unexpected illnesses.Roger Belanger/The Globe and Mail
Mayah Obadia was vacationing in Toronto when she received a text message from her petsitter about her cat, Fig. He was not eating or playing.
For most Canadians, this would warrant a pretty simple solution: a trip to the local veterinarian’s office, likely scheduled during regular clinic hours.
However, this wasn’t the case for Fig, because he – and Ms. Obadia – live in Iqaluit, Nunavut’s capital of about 8,000 residents. There is no full-time veterinarian in the city (or the territory), so the closest option for in-person care is about 2,000 kilometres away, in Ottawa.
Northern territories often face challenges accessing services that are relatively easy to find in the rest of the country. In Nunavut, humans, too, sometimes need to fly thousands of kilometres to get medical treatment. In the case of animal companions, Iqaluit residents have to make do with virtual care or sporadic visits from out-of-town vets and technicians, despite steady demand from pet owners. When that’s not available, owners sometimes have to make hard choices.
No visiting vets were in town when Fig needed help. So Ms. Obadia called an after-hours telehealth vet service. The diagnosis was a possible obstruction – a blockage in Fig’s intestines. Was it an emergency? There was no way to tell without an X-ray, which was only available in Ottawa. Ms. Obadia had to get Fig on a plane, quick.
For now, only Nunavut Animal Rescue, a non-profit, provides medical animal services to the area. Janelle Kennedy, the chair of the board, said pet owners call her and ask if there is anything she can do to help their sick animal. It is “heartbreaking,” she said, when she can’t say yes.
“Down south, you can drive 25 kilometres in any direction and run into a vet clinic,” she said. “That’s seen as an intense privilege for us living here.”
Transporting a dog or cat to Ottawa in the cargo hold of an aircraft costs about $230 one way, according to the Canadian North airline’s website. It is about $87 one way if the pet can travel in the cabin — but that applies only to small pets, which require an accompanying passenger.
With a passenger, the ticket cost increases greatly – round-trip flights from Ottawa to Iqaluit routinely cost more than $1,000, even on sale.
One of the main goals of Nunavut Animal Rescue is to try to find a full-time vet who can provide consistent care.
The non-profit bought a veterinary clinic and equipment after a previous clinic closed in 2022, and it runs the Iqaluit Animal Hospital, co-ordinating visits from vets and technicians. In partnership with a company, VetTriage, they also run the telehealth line that Ms. Obadia called.
Ms. Kennedy said the organization is in communication with a vet from Pakistan who is being sponsored to come to Canada, but who would need to be certified to practise in Nunavut before any next steps could be taken.
In the meantime, along with scheduling visits from southern vets, they do in-clinic virtual appointments with remote vets, when possible. Veterinarians Without Borders North America is also active in the territory. Among other things, it trains people to provide animal health services such as first aid and administering vaccinations.
Ms. Kennedy, pictured with her daughter Ashlinn Ouellette, outside the vet office.Supplied
One of the more unique aspects of a northern veterinary practice is caring for qimmiit, or Inuit sled dogs. The dogs tend to be genetically resilient and therefore have relatively few health issues, said Torsten Diesel, a board member of Iqaluit Qimussiqtiit Katimajingit, or the Iqaluit Dog Team Society, but a full-time vet would mean better access to spaying services, he said, and make it easier to deal with unexpected illnesses.
While the numbers fluctuate because of people moving away from the territory, Ms. Kennedy said the clinic is seeing as many as 10 new pets a week.
“We have no idea how we’re going to meet this demand without a full-time vet,” she said.
The group has secured a one-year salary for a vet through a foundation, reducing business risk. The vet and technician would be considered the rescue organization’s employees. But there are still challenges ahead.
Ms. Kennedy said the first recruitment challenge is that the vet needs to be experienced.
The second is housing, a common problem for Iqaluit residents. Ms. Kennedy said the rescue has applied for assistance, but was turned down by several territorial departments. She assumes it is because the organization is focused on servicing animals instead of people.
Torsten Diesel and a team of sled dogs, or qimmiit.Blaine Heffernan/Supplied
Back in Toronto, Ms. Obadia was about to find out the cost to her of Nunavut’s vet shortage.
From a distance, she scrambled to find someone at home who could accompany her pet to Ottawa. After an initial plan fell through, she found a work colleague who was able to step in.
Ms. Obadia drove a rental car to the Ottawa airport, where she picked up Fig, then brought him to the emergency vet clinic.
Ms. Obadia and Fig.Brendan Kelly/Supplied
Along with an IV fluid drip, Fig was given two X-rays, where it became clear that an obstruction in his digestive tract – later found to be foam from a Nerf toy – was moving. He ended up excreting it a few days later.
The ordeal cost Ms. Obadia about $3,200. Most of that – $2,600 – was vet bills, but it cost about $130 to have Fig fly back to Iqaluit with her from Toronto, plus nearly $300 for a rental car and $200 for a hotel room.
The airline did not charge her for Fig to fly to Ottawa, she said, but if they had, it would have cost around $87 more.
Over all, she says, having a full-time vet in Iqaluit would be “a huge relief.”
Ms. Obadia said she has now purchased pet insurance.
“The vet-care piece is a little bit of a challenge, for sure,” she said.
