The Dog Doc

It’s hard to get good health care for humans, but what about for our four-legged friends? With The Dog Doc, director Cindy Meehl offers a feature-length defense of integrative medicine, which combines the best of conventional medicine with alternative treatments (disclosure: I’ve taken one of my dogs to a holistic vet, and I’d do it again). The poster child for this approach is New York veterinarian Marty Goldstein, whose flashy canine-patterned shirts are a beacon for furry patients that other vets have written off, like Scooby, a dog with bone cancer in his jaw diagnosed with just months to live. For tumors, Goldstein uses a radical procedure: He freezes the tumor, which doesn’t cure it but allows the animal to heal. But Goldstein’s real target is the immune system. He believes that by changing an animal’s diet and introducing supplements, including doses of vitamin C administered intravenously, he can add years to dogs’ lives. Conventional vets call Goldstein a quack. One doctor met with Goldstein intending to debunk his claims, but when he saw how much one of his treatments transformed a dog that could barely walk, he became a convert. For dogs, Goldstein and his peers just might give hope to the hopeless—if they can afford it. The film was scheduled for the Environmental Film Festival in March, one of the first events to go virtual in the pandemic, but it’s available now through AFI Silver’s virtual programming. The film is available to stream at $12. —Pat Padua

“D.C. Women Artists”

The National Museum for Women in the Arts’ online “D.C. Women Artists” card collection spotlights five artists who shared a city but had vastly different perspectives. The printable cards provide background information on each artist, along with a series of insightful questions that prompt you to reflect on the works more closely: Notice the way Elizabeth Catlett played with light to reveal unspoken emotion in “Two Generations.” Georgia Mills Jessup played with light in “Rainy Night, Downtown,” too, but with more color and geometry; the result is an energetic portrait of the old 14th Street NW Trans-Lux Theatre—though you may feel a pang as the card assumes you’re in the museum and says its location was “about a block from where you are standing.” Even more abstract is Alma Woodsey Thomas’ “Iris, Tulips, Jonquils, and Crocuses.” Individual petals may be difficult to make out, but her spontaneous brushstrokes and vibrant colors evoke flowers in movement. She isn’t the only artist to reflect what she called her “communion with nature.” Anne Truitt’s “Summer Dryad” gets its name from the female forest spirit of Greek mythology, and Loïs Mailou Jones painted the valleys of France that sheltered her from some of the racial discrimination she faced in 1930s America. Scatter the cards around the room for an impromptu exhibit or assemble them on a wall to form a collage. However you display them, the cards offer a skylight into each woman’s Washington that notes the effects of their time, socio-economic status, race, and gender. The cards are available online at Free. —Emma Francois