Animal Planet was searching for its next single-lead veterinarian show. The last one, “Emergency Vets,” featuring Denver’s Kevin Fitzgerald, was a breakout hit for the network. They needed a bold personality, a vet with strong opinions, a wild character suitable for reality TV.
They found Jeff Young on the Internet. A 1989 Colorado State University veterinary medicine grad who runs a clinic in Denver’s Highlands neighborhood called Planned Pethood Plus, Young is an outspoken advocate for spaying and neutering who has performed more than 160,000 of these desexing, population-controlling procedures at low cost.
After watching a YouTube video of him giving a passionate speech on the subject, the British production company DoubleAct signed him to star in a show; after a teaser reel, the network picked up the show as a series.
“Dr. Jeff: Rocky Mountain Vet” premieres Saturday on Animal Planet (locally at 8 p.m.) for a first season run of 10 episodes. Each hour opens with a disclaimer for viewers squeamish about surgical scenes.
Young thrives on controversy, particularly that surrounding the spay/neuter surgical procedure, which is disdained by dog breeders.
He blasts the pharmaceutical companies as oligopolies, says American pet owners are being duped into spending money on “immoral” advanced cancer treatments, believes other vets are just in it for profit and thinks pet owners are crazy for anthropomorphizing pets with wedding outfits and such.
“It’s all about money,” Young said in an interview at his clinic.
Animal Planet declined to disclose how much Young is paid for his participation in the series.
The process of being on a reality TV show is “painful,” Young said, disdaining the phoniness. “They’ve tried to handle me more than I like. It’s been a constant battle.”
When the producers suggested he put his head in a cage and kiss an animal, he declined. When they pushed him to do more “exotics,” such as expensive rare birds, he pushed back (although he does treat a hedgehog, a turtle and a camel in the opener; viewers learn more about camel testicles than they may need. “That’s one camel with two less lumps,” the doctor concludes).
He claims to dislike the TV trappings, but considers reality TV a means to an end.
“The truth is, the show is geared for the American audience,” he said, suggesting the entertainment requirements of a primetime series call for a certain amount of shtick that is beneath him. “But it gives me a platform.” He hopes to use it to educate viewers to the importance of the spay/neuter service.
He’s not shy about his shtick, either. He claims he can barely understand the British film crew because “I’m a hillbilly from Indiana.”
On a recent visit, the Planned Pethood waiting room was full of canines, five surgical beds were occupied with a mix of dogs and cats, and three small dogs and three large dogs were in recovery, resting on the heated floor in the operating room. The cramped offices are packed, the staff hustles from a tiny exam room to the operating room. Young’s personal living quarters are upstairs, a large open space decorated with shelves lined with liquor bottles.
The first season is mostly in the can, a videographer from London is gathering final footage and Dr. Jeff is looking to the future. The clinic will move to a new, three-times larger facility at 45th Avenue and Harlan Street in January. The Tennyson Street area of the Highlands has gentrified beyond his liking.
“I’m pretty controversial,” the doctor states.
It’s not just his distinctive look, shoulder-length graying hair, sandals, jeans, and a large tattoo that says “surgical samurai” in Japanese. It’s the iconoclastic attitude.
He led a protest of his vet school while enrolled. He has a running battle with the state board of veterinary medicine over licensing regulations. He makes caustic comments about other vets, blasts studies suggesting spaying/neutering is bad for animals, and knocks how long most vets take and what they charge for doing the simple procedure.
“I can do dogs all day for $40 (per neutering) and never lose money. I can do cats for $20 and never lose money.” Other vets hate him, Young asserts. “I’m a pariah.”
The anti-Fitzgerald
Young is the anti- Kevin Fitzgerald.
Fitzgerald did 11 seasons’ worth of “Emergency Vets” and “E-Vet Interns,” 1997-2008, winning hearts and minds — and ratings — for the network. Still plugging away at Alameda East Veterinary Hospital, Fitzgerald is President of the Denver Area Veterinary Medical Society, a trustee on the board of the Denver Zoo since 2009, a consultant to the Smithsonian Institution and a leader in mainstream veterinary medicine.
By contrast, Dr. Jeff is anything but mainstream. He takes repeated shots at Fitzgerald and Fitzgerald’s professional abilities, mouthing off as if asking for a lawsuit.
Asked for comment, Fitzgerald, in practice for 33 years, board certified and never sued for malpractice, offered a carefully worded response: “Just say I wished Young well with his Animal Planet experience and said he has done a lot to help people with his affordable veterinary care.”
Rick Holzman, general manager of Animal Planet, declined to get in the middle of that cat fight, saying only that Young’s “authenticity, passion and unfiltered nature” are part of his appeal. He acknowledged Young’s inexperience with the media. “We’re not going to change him, but we can help him not get in the way of his own message. He’s still getting comfortable with being on television.”
Due to Young’s salty mouth, the show will be bleeped and rated for language.
“As the network that invented the vet show genre, people pitch us veterinarians frequently,” Holzman said. “What we saw in Jeff was something you don’t usually see in made-for-TV characters. That’s the authenticity piece. Warts and all. He’s not a hair-and-teeth presenter.”
Young claims to have been the first vet to do mobile spay/neutering and continues to visit ranches and farms in Colorado (they hit Leadville in the first hour), as well as Indian reservations in Montana to perform operations at little or no cost. Rejecting claims to the contrary, he says neutering helps the overall health of the animal.
“A really hard dog spay shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes. You have to get good at it. Speed comes with time. I still double-tie everything.”
Among his staff of more than 30, he counts a number of talented up-and-comers. In the premiere, viewers will see him in mentor mode: “One stitch, you can do it,” he coaches rookie surgeon Amy Hutchison through her first canine eye surgery.
“I can tell pretty quickly if someone’s going to be a good surgeon. There are good kids coming up. But I can outlast ’em all day just ’cause I’m ornery.”
Joanne Ostrow: 303-954-1830, jostrow@ denverpost.com or twitter.com/ostrowdp
