Like, Urgent

We don’t trust the veterinary company where we've been taking Jackson. We signed him up for the annual cat care plan they sell you as if it’s insurance, though they steer well clear of that word. It’s about $300 a year, but oh! what you get. Thousands and thousands of dollars in savings for the tests and tune-ups he simply must have annually, quarterly, monthly; whatever the vets' fiscal calendar requires. The whole clinic is twenty-year-old girls who wear pajamas to work and speak with no punctuation. You pay that money, and they call and leave you messages: “This is Banfield Pet Hospital calling about Jackson it’s time for his physical and dental exam day after tomorrow all day we look forward to seeing Jackson.” So we take him in and, guess what? There’s something wrong with him. Every time. And it’s causing him pain. And we’d better jump right on it. Right now. Today. He’s in pain. Just like real estate agents, vets have a profit motive that is at cross purposes, I feel, strongly, with their oath.

This afternoon, after Jackson had been there a few hours, the receptionist called and she liked Jude that he, like, needed two teeth pulled. Like, right now. $147 (not $150). Jude said we can’t afford it. (We can – don’t worry, Mom.) So fifteen minutes later the actual vet called back and explained that Jackson is likely in great pain. Jude said we’ll get it handled as soon as possible. Then, two hours later, the same vet called again. Bad news. Jackson has diabetes, no doubt about it. He needs a special diet and insulin shots right away.

Like, suffering

So Lucy at work told me we should call her vet and get a second opinion. “Dr. Dillon’s wonderful,” she said. Dr. Dillon returned Jude’s call tonight at about 8:00 and they talked for 45 minutes. The second opinion will cost $200. OK, whatever – we really want to know if he’s at death’s door or not. Jude makes the appointment and they set up a new patient record in the vetabase.

“And what’s your kitty’s name?” Dr. Dillon asks.

“Jackson.”

“And does Jackson have the same last name as you?”

Jude takes the phone from her ear and looks at it, holding it the way Captain Kirk holds his communicator. “His last name is Bon Jovi,” she says into it.