Quebec City clinic reaches out to marginalized people by offering free veterinary care for pets

It all started with a dog.

Last year, Lise Pelletier agreed to foster Nalia, a gentle black mutt with a greying muzzle.

Pelletier is a peer support worker at Quebec City's SPOT clinic, a not-for-profit resource for marginalized people in downtown. They have doctors, nurses and dentists who offer care.

Pelletier began bringing Nalia along with her on her rounds and noticed that the dog's presence prompted people who are usually wary, to approach.

"A dog puts people at ease," says Pelletier, who has since adopted Nalia.

Arianne Boisvert works with Pelletier in peer support. She frequently has to convince people to seek medical help. Many of them have had negative experiences in the system.

The team started thinking animals could be the bridge to some of their vulnerable clientele who have pets.

"Once we make a link through their dog, we can ask them what's going on,'' Boisvert says.

The SPOT team started working on the idea of a free vet clinic.

A professor at Université Laval's medical school, who volunteers at SPOT, pointed them to two of her medical residents, who are also practising veterinarians. Both agreed to sign on.

Helping humans through their best friends

Dr. Marie-Ève Fortin is on a quick break from consultations at SPOT's headquarters. She laughs when she's asked what possessed her to go back to school to become an MD after working as a vet.

Fortin saw animals in her veterinary practice whose owners were obviously in need of medical help themselves but who didn't have the tools to navigate the system.

At SPOT, she says, a pet-care visit can be a gateway to seeing a medical professional under the same roof.

"Doing community work as a vet here lets me reach vulnerable people who, as a doctor, are a real priority for me," Fortier says.

Fortin and her fellow resident Dr. Florence Bergia offered to hold a free clinic at SPOT once a month.

Fortin's partner in life, Dr. Jason Henry — who is also a vet — brought the project to his colleagues at the veterinary clinic where he works, Clinique Beaumont, on Quebec City's south shore. They agreed to provide materials to get the ball rolling.

The first clinic day was in March. The vets saw seven animals.

By the time the second clinic rolled around in April, the list had grown to 14 cats and dogs, and a waiting list was starting to form.

The word had spread through SPOT's network, and people were showing up.

I saved him and he saved me

Lexis Veillette's dog Oni is a SPOT client. He's a handsome eight-year-old Siberian Husky with ice-blue eyes. Today, with the smell of spring in the air, Oni tugs at his leash, wanting to explore.

Veillette bought Oni as an eight-month-old pup, after scraping together his money.

He had spent time on the streets in Quebec City's St-Roch neighborhood. He'd struggled with addiction. He was heavily overweight. He had psychological issues. But Veillette wanted a dog and deliberately chose a breed that needed a lot of attention.

He walked Oni five to 10 hours a day. Over a 10-month period, he lost 170 pounds. Oni was with him through a long string of ups and downs.

"I saved him from a place and he saved me from my head … and my body," Veillette says.

Veillette is currently in the process of transitioning from female to male. He describes how for years when he tried to seek help for his problems he was judged for how he presents — his dreadlocks, his piercings, his tattoos.

He would be quizzed on his gender when people looked at his health card.

One day he showed up at SPOT's mobile clinic. No one asked for ID.

"I didn't have to say I'm transgender, you should use 'he.' In our conversations, it was obvious. They just got it."

In the same way, Veillette says, SPOT gets the importance pets have for people who are largely alone in life.

For some, a pet can be the only link to the world

As a vet, Henry sees a difference in the owner-pet bond when people are living on the street or in isolation.

"These people need the pet as much as the pet needs them."

Henry says an animal has a schedule: it has to eat and be walked. That's something that lends structure and purpose to someone who otherwise might have no reason to connect with the world around them.

But for people living in poverty, there's a limit on how much animal care they can afford.

For now, SPOT's vet clinic is offering free preventive care like vaccinations and worm treatments. Henry says his clinic is also prepared to do urgent surgeries, where possible, with the vets offering their services free of charge and SPOT paying the material costs.

Fortin has received donations of medications and food from clinics and businesses in the region. But the $5,000-budget SPOT has allocated for the vet clinic can only go so far.

The hope is to find stable funding, so the team can continue to attract new users.

Fortin dreams of a day — once her medical studies are completed — when she can provide human and animal care in one clinic setting, a revolution in community health care.

"Imagine, people who wouldn't come see a doctor otherwise, coming with their animal, but us finding a way to help them get their own health in hand, too," Fortin says.

While his husky Oni tugs on his leash to get going, Veillette's smile broadens as he imagines that kind of place.

"Because it's fine to care for us. But if our pets aren't OK, we're not OK, either."