Posted June 23, 2011on:
by the look of my cats, old age seems like a bitch. Last year while An was packing to move, Cripple (RIP) had this crazy bout of diarrhea and vomiting for 2-3 days, I can’t remember. Some $300 later, he came out with a clean bill of health, despite having lost a huge amount of weight and was down to 7 lbs (from the height of his 12 lbs at my house before May was born). Now, it’s Fatty’s turn. Ugh. Same thing. He even threw up some blood this morning, or something that looked like red stringy membranes. Maybe his stomach lining or something. Lack of appetite, a bit lethargic, dehydrated… blah blah blah. I have been sucking big time as a pet owner since 2009, but I still have my radar up for illnesses, so into the car went kid & cat, to the vet!
OK, this vet place is sucking 2/2. I really want to hit the vet who was treating Fatty with something painful. Maybe a big terracotta flower pot? Watching the pot cracking or perhaps shattering due to the force applied might have pleased me greatly, who knows. What I’m saying is, hey asshole, did I mention that my cat is a male ? Wrote it quite clearly too. How come you kept on saying “it” and then “she” and then whatever other fucking pronoun you could think of except for the appropriate one? Also, if you don’t like animals and have to make a living, try butchering. Why act as if the pets who pass through your hands were the bane of your existence ? Fuck you. And when I fed you information regarding Crippled last year, the correct answer would have been “oh I see, point noted, we’ll talk about it if it’s relevant when the lab works come back tomorrow.” Don’t just turn your head while your body is still wanting to walk away from me (after making me waiting for fucking how long after I showed up? jackass!) and the attitude of “whatever.” Whatever to you could cost me $5k, shithead.
I’m already pissed that I had to spend so much money today, so the last thing I wanted to see was how I’m paying oodles and oodles of money to be treated with such bad manners and bad service. Why didn’t you tell me what will take place once I leave my cat in your care? Why did I have to say specifically “I think he’s dehydrated, I want you to put an IV into him as soon as possible” and then hear the assistant saying something like “yeah, we probably will.” Huh? Do you think I’m a dumbass who just surrenders my pet into your hands without knowing what’s going on? And then you discharged my cat to me without any discharge instruction, nada. I had to ask you “what should I do with him while waiting for the labs to come back if he keeps up with the vomiting and loss of appetite?” “Just treat him normally” What. The. Fuck. Normally ?? Like, OK, kitty pukes, I clean. OK, kitty pukes again, I clean. OK, kitty pukes yet again, I clean. Oh wait, kitty just dropped dead, I guess I need to do something not so normal now. Is that it? Damn you. I hope a flower pot finds your head and wreak justice of the universe on its crown as I had intended to. Or a baseball bat.
Thanks for letting me vent, and then again, no thanks, doctor. my. ass.