And while we’re at it, did you know that diagnosing a cat with asthma can cost as much as putting a child in braces?
I knew none of these things. Until Thursday.
Cats have an almost legendary habit of not being ill until they are seriously ill, of lapsing from seemingly perfect health into death throes. To say this is alarming is the understatement of the year. To say that it causes you to drop everything you’re doing, cram the cat into a carrier, and race to the vet without a coat, your purse or your phone would be a little more accurate.
Our cat-astrophe occurred not only as I was leaving for a job interview, but also at a time when our veterinary office was closed for a staff meeting, ultimately resulting in two (2) emergency visits to two (2) veterinary clinics. (Did I mention this all cost more than my first car? Granted, it wasn’t much to look at, but it did get me and my sister around for a good, long time.)
Of course, the dizzying amount of money was worth it to avoid having the little darling die in my arms, to avoid having to tell my children about his sudden, alarming denouement. Of course it was! *weeps silently for a moment*
Now the patient is home, oxygen-infused, in seemingly perfect health, with his prescription for Prednisone and a new hatred of me, sharpened like his tiny, destructive claws, during his overnight stay in the “hospital”. It is clear he is unforgiving. Isn’t that typical? I save his life, and all he remembers is that he had to have a bandage on his leg, and boy, was that annoying.
In time, he will forget this trauma, and so will I. We will once again sit together on the couch on a Sunday morning, content. I will watch him for signs of a cough and treat him as needed. He will pick on the furniture and try to get into the food.
All I can say is it’s a good thing the veterinary clinic had oxygen at hand when they presented me with the bill.