Michael A. Obenski, DVM

Michael A. Obenski, DVM

Born and raised in Hatboro, Pa., Dr. Michael A. Obenski wanted to become a veterinarian at age 11. He accomplished it in 1972 by graduating from the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine. He previously earned a bachelor's degree in animal science from Pennsylvania State University. In 1978, Dr. Obenski opened the Allentown Clinic for Cats, where he still practices.

Dr. Obenski started penning dvm360's popular and award-winning column "Where did I go wrong?" in 1976.

Articles by Michael A. Obenski, DVM

i1-430964-1384753782753.jpg

Any office call involving Mr. and Mrs. Flipflop can be quite a challenge. They truly seem to love their pets, or maybe they don't. And nothing is too much trouble when it comes to their animal's welfare, or maybe nothing is all they are willing to do. It is hard to tell. The truth is, though, they usually are all talk and no action.

i1-392867-1384757193841.jpg

At her last office visit, Mrs. Dimbulb was very anxious to share her latest theory concerning her cat's behavior. "You know, Doctor," she said. "I think I know why Pierce misbehaves when he's here. It's those heavy gloves you people wear when handling him. Those gloves scare him. My sister, Mrs. Tranquil, brings her cat here, and she told me that her cat, Honey Pie, behaves just fine. I think it's because you don't use those scary gloves on her cat."

i1-380877-1384759397673.jpg

Violet Shade is one of my most colorful clients, and I mean that literally. Every time I try to explain something to her, she becomes so embarrassed that her face takes on a crimson glow. Such was the case when I tried to explain why her cat, Pansy, couldn't get pregnant.

i1-310062-1384764974691.jpg

Mr. and Mrs. Lunkhead showed up at my office one day last month. It was their first visit. It didn't take me long to hope it would also be their last. Their cat, Goner, looked about half dead.

i1-310023-1384765189831.jpg

One day last month, I was cruising along a winding, two-lane country road when I noticed a man jogging up the street in the opposite direction. A moment later, I saw a lady walking briskly along a crossroad. She was wearing earphones and apparently listening to her favorite music as she waddled her way to fitness. Within the next few minutes, I counted six more people running, walking or exercising outdoors. This adds up to a strange set of circumstances for a wintry Sunday afternoon in eastern Pennsylvania. I wasn't surprised though. You see, it was Jan. 1, New Year's Day, and all those people had undoubtedly resolved to slim down and get fit during 2006.

The lettering on the door said Department of Anesthesiology, Hal O'Thane, DVM. Duey Hafta didn't even bother to read it. He had been knocking on every door in the veterinary school trying to find a botzofer. His patience had worn thin by this point. He felt as though he had asked a million people so far, and none of them seemed to know where the botzofer was or, for that matter, what it was.