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How much demand can there possibly be in central Indiana for a veterinarian who limits her practice to exotic animals and birds??

Well, enough to keep Angela Lennox, D.V.M., more than busy. (And there's another woman vet in the city who specializes in exotics and avian species, too: Dr. Beth Ann Breitweiser of All Things Wild Animal Hospital.)

Lennox tried an ordinary animal practice, but treating cats and dogs proved so repetitive that she listened to the small voice inside that said she'd find more of a challenge in the broad range called "exotics," plus birds. Already she knew she had an affinity for unusual species, going back to her high school days.

Actually, she originally dreamed of earning her living as a classical pianist whose hobby involved caring for pets. "But I didn't realize then that this career plan would leave me too poor to have animals," she says. By high school, after hanging out with the vets who cared for her horses and other animals stabled at a neighbor's farm near her family's Carmel subdivision home, she reversed those goals. She landed a job as a veterinary assistant at the Airport Animal Emergency Clinic to supplement her student loans and parental assistance for upcoming tuition at Purdue University.

Then while driving home in the wee hours one night, she accidentally slammed into an opossum. Jumping out of the car, the high schooler spied a mother and 12 babies scattered across the blacktop. None of the visible brood survived the impact, but Lennox did discover three live infants still in the adult's pouch. "I had no clue what to do with them," she recalls. Panicked, she called her boss, who passed along the phone number of a local wildlife rehabilitator. But the woman refused to take in the orphans — instead, she insisted on teaching Lennox how to care for them herself. Within a year, Lennox qualified for a state license to rehabilitate wildlife, and began bringing 10 to 15 injured animals a month to her home. She even established an aviary in the barn.

And her love for exotics was born.

No day in the office is typical now for the Purdue University School of Veterinary Science graduate. But they're all busy. As Lennox replaces a hip in Smokey the bunny, the office assistant pokes her head in to ask if the vet can squeeze in an impromptu visit with a sick parrot. "Can you move our 11 a.m. patient back? If so we'll plunge right in," Lennox says. Pet owners say they cherish her cheerfulness about such emergencies, and her constant availability — which includes the doctor's willingness to go to the patient if the patient can't come to her.

Nothing she took at Purdue prepared her for this practice. There were no courses aimed at specialties outside the domestic pet niche. In fact, only a handful of veterinary schools in the country currently

offer formal, full-blown training in exotic animals. Pioneers who choose this route often must apply common sense and deductions to build their knowledge base, then share it among colleagues across the nation.

"Certainly basic anatomy and physiology lessons often apply," Lennox says. "And when you know one body system, it makes it easier to learn another. But from there you have to move on to how these animals are special, discovering typical diseases for that species, nutritional needs, appropriate drugs to use." Many times, the vets have to wing it.

Lennox found a mentor in Nicole VanDerHayden, her Purdue anatomy assistant who already had established an exotics practice in Lafayette. When Lennox graduated, she took a job at a standard dog-and-cat practice in Indianapolis with the understanding she'd develop opportunities to care for exotic pets that strayed its way. She avidly read everything she could dig up and enrolled in continuing education courses sponsored by professional organizations such as the Association of Avian Veterinarians. "But you learn quickly that you can't do it on your own. I was very frustrated at how little I knew, and constantly called Nicole for help," she notes. Finally, she found the perfect solution: hire on with VanDerHayden's clinic.

The team opened a practice — aptly called Avian and Exotic Animals — on Indianapolis' Southside. Within a year, they had so many clients from the Zionsville, Carmel and Fishers areas, the duo split energies to establish a second clinic on the Northside. Lennox opened the second practice in November 1991. After a five-year lease expired on that property, she built her current office just off 91st Street and Michigan Road. She's also taken on a second associate — Dr. Alex Wolf — to help cover practice hours and emergency calls.

She attributes part of this phenomenal growth to the industry's definition of exotic. Technically, any animal except dogs, cats, horses, cattle and farm pigs fall into this category, which expands the patient clientele to include goats, chickens, ducks, donkeys and other barnyard animals commonly found on area farms. Occasionally, even a wolf-hybrid dog enters Lennox's world because other veterinarians felt they couldn't properly address its bloodlines.

Pet owners also book appointments for their iguanas, hamsters, goldfish and potbellied pigs. "As more Hoosiers opt for apartments, condos and homes with smaller lot lines, this portion of the exotic pets market will boom," Lennox notes. The proof lies on her time cards: Her first year in this niche netted about 15 hours worth of appointments a week. Today, her office books more than 40 hours' of business.

Busy On Two Fronts

She married college sweetheart Michael Lennox in 1985 after finishing her undergrad work in biology; they met when she phoned him as a radio station disc jockey to make a song request. She refused to delay their personal family plans, and gave birth to her first daughter, Corina, during finals week of her sophomore year in vet school in 1987.

Now they have four daughters, aged 12, 9, 3 and 2, so life rarely slows down on Lennox's home front, either. She relies on creativity to meld her worlds together and prove wrong the vet school professor who informed her that she couldn't choose a career and motherhood — she'd need to concentrate on one at the other's expense. "Stubbornness convinced me he was wrong," she says. "When he told me I couldn't, my immediate reaction was ‘Oh yes I can!' "

Because of her commitment to quality time with her family, she has grown her practice on part-time hours (that's 30 hours a week translated to veterinary language), a status she refuses to relinquish even with the heavier patient load. "I believe parents should raise their children," she explains. "My husband and I set an important goal for our family — not to work so hard that the children live in daycare and we pass each other in the night."

Michael, who as director of the Indiana Amateur Baseball Association oversees baseball activities for inner-city youth, works

from their Westfield home. Although Angela is on call 24 hours a day year-round for emergencies, she schedules later office hours only on Mondays — the children practice their newfound cooking skills for the family dinners this night — and knocks off by 3 p.m. the rest of the week. She spends Wednesdays and Fridays away from the office completely.

When situational circumstances demand either parent's full attention, a high-school girl and Angela's mother chip in to see that the Lennox children enjoy outdoor play time and individual attention. The foursome are also at home at Avian and Exotic Animals' office, where three years ago a playroom existed in the back so Mom could supervise them during office hours while Dad worked at a train museum. (They youngest two still have a toy stash on the premises.) Daughter Cori even accompanies Lennox on emergencies to help catch flying parrots with towels and restrain upset pets.

"It's a great field for women because you can be flexible. If I didn't own this clinic, I could probably get 20 part-time jobs in this city," she says. "Some speculate women lean toward this field because men have abandoned it — vets don't make as much income as a human doctor. But I wonder if it's just that more women are attracted to it."

She notes that her class was the first at Purdue to reach a 50/50 mix of men and women students, representing a large change from traditional mores. Today, that ratio has climbed to 55 women Boilermakers to 12 men.

The Dr. Doolittle Myth

Youth in particular find her job with exotics intriguing, as do all animal lovers. "Seems everybody but our parents thinks this is cool," Lennox jokes. Add her second daughter to that short list; 9-year-old Kathryn displays a passion for art instead. (The rest of the family, 3-year-old Eliza and 2-year-old Sara, are too young to show career preferences, Mom says.)

The vet personally counts birds among her favorite animals, but her client list is exhaustive, thanks to several small area zoos who rely on her medical knowledge. Although she doesn't recommend private citizens opt for lions, tigers, zebras and similar safari animals as pets, for those who do, Lennox stands ready to help them keep their menageries healthy.

"These animals deserve good care under any circumstances," she notes. During her career, she's also treated monkeys, camels, chameleons, baboons, emus, wolves, bears, yaks, coati mundi, ostriches and ferrets. She counts on treating a new species at least every six months. This cycle's winner: a two-toed sloth. She draws the line only at venomous snakes because she can't be assured of local hospitals' supply of antivenin at any given moment. "People die of poisonous snake bites and I won't put us in that danger," she says.

The range of treatment options is nearly as staggering. "If the owner desires, we'll take it as absolutely far as possible, including chemotherapy and kidney transplants," she says. "Think about where these miracle cures for humans stem from — the research animals assist us with in trials and laboratories circles back to help them with these diseases, too."

Yet because of the lack of formal training in exotic care, Lennox and her staff admit that it takes a creative approach toward equipment, housing and diet often to save the day simply because no one has a guidebook on the best way to operate on an ostrich. Dr. Doolittle stories aside, these creatures don't communicate their aches and pains succinctly, so the process from diagnosis to pain management boils down to a highly educated guessing game. The team has recreated rainforests for recovering parrots and simulated a warm pouch for marsupials. "And most places don't keep dead mice in the freezer," Lennox says. But she does.

Lennox's reputation for emerging the winner has gained her industry's attention and respect. Winged Wisdom magazine turns to her as an authority on treating Quaker Mutilation Syndrome, a condition where parrots pluck themselves bald. She also hosts the "Ask Our Vet" feature of the Small Talk web site for bird owners.

"I can honestly say I've never met a more dedicated professional than Angela Lennox," says Brian Mitchell, a member of the Circle City Ferret Club whose ferret gets regular check-ups at her office. "She'll even loan or give you books or other materials to review at your leisure, because she wants to increase the well-being of your pets." He named his first of five ferrets ‘Angelo' to honor the vet who saved it from starvation.

A nurse by profession, Mitchell enjoys telling about the time he rescued an ill ferret from a pet shop and called Avian and Exotic Clinic at closing time on Thanksgiving eve. Lennox met him in the parking lot, and admitted the little one's survival chances weren't positive. She tucked it in her car and drove it home for ‘round the clock monitoring, calling Mitchell on Thanksgiving Day with updates. Unfortunately, the ferret died. "But I have no doubt this ferret was indeed loved and I felt a sense of peace because Dr. Lennox was with her, comforting her till the end," he says.

Why Not Humans?

A good track record of cures despite the odds begs an obvious question: Why not apply these instincts and extensive schooling to humans instead of animals? After all, Lennox's mentor/former partner VanDerHayden currently devotes her full-time attention to studying for an M.D. license. "Now that I have children, I do question that a bit because pediatrics would have been wonderful, too," Lennox notes. "But I made my decision as a young person, and I liked animals. It never occurred to me to work with people then. I can't ever say for sure if I'd have made a different choice with a different perspective."

Veterinary medicine skills do complement her parenting skills, however. "I do not practice medicine on my children — that would be illegal and unethical — but I'm good at reacting properly to their boo-boos," she says. "And my children force me to be efficient so I can keep my commitments here and still go home to be Mom."

Staffers at Avian and Exotic Animal Clinic refer to Lennox as "Angel," a play on words they lit on because of their employer's compassionate nature. She reserves euthanasia for times when it's clear the animal's chances aren't very good, it faces a limited life span, or science doesn't offer a reasonable chance of managing the problem. Lennox refuses to put down an animal for the owner's convenience, opting to find homes for the creatures instead. For example, this summer a local resident brought in a chameleon but was unwilling to spend a lot of money on diagnostics. When antibiotics didn't do the trick, the owner returned with euthanasia instructions. Lennox didn't feel the chameleon deserved that course of treatment. "But he was very bright colored, wiggly — just wouldn't eat. So we ran the proper tests on our own and restored his appetite," she reports. The chameleon now lives with Dr. Wolf.

As a teen, she witnessed the death of a pet horse and a raccoon that bit another technician during its rehab stay. Both times the euthanasia process tore her heart out. "Ours is a clinic where usually the staff ends up crying in a big boo-hoo fest for everybody at these times," she says. Lennox personally carves time from her practice to sit with grieving families and talk about the animal on these occasions. The compassionate doctor typically sends sympathy cards to her clients who have suffered a loss.

Although she claims four daughters have curtailed her own stray animal-collecting habits — lately she's adopted just two parrots, a rabbit and a pet rat to add to the family horses, donkey, chickens and dog — Lennox maintains a gratis service at the office for injured wildlife as her mission. Necessary funds come from private donations and her own operating budget. "Some days we'll have almost every cage filled with wildlife and no room for patients," she says. The overcrowding forces her to decline well wildlife babies — those she directs to rehabbers for care.

Lennox doesn't label herself as "super vet" or even an extraordinarily dedicated person compared to other professional women. "All people have their own types of insanity. There's not much difference between people obsessed with golf and exotics. The interest just takes a different path.

"We do seem to be closer emotionally to our clients than a traditional dog-and-cat clinic," she adds. "Probably because when you find someone who shares your insanity, it draws you closer."