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YOUR PETS CAN’T TELL you when they don’t feel well, and yet somehow they do.
One of our cats, Sangria, seemed to have no energy for several days. Part Siamese, she’s usually a loud crier. But lately she’d taken to quietly hiding in a closet. My wife Jiab—the cat attendant responsible for intake—reported her eating as normal. I, in charge of the litter box, noticed that outflow was a bit irregular. We thought it would pass. But after a couple of days, we decided to take her to the vet to make sure.
We’ve used the same vet office for more than 20 years, and we love all the vets. Unfortunately, they were on vacation. We met with a fill-in vet—we’ll call her Dr. FIV—whom we didn’t know.
Dr. FIV did a cursory look-over. No temperature. Things seemed normal. To help Dr. FIV be thorough and narrow down the possible causes, I mentioned that Sangria had been eating a lot of the house plants. But I also explained that Jiab is meticulous about researching our plants to make sure they aren’t toxic.
Dr. FIV, however, latched on to the possibility of poison and wouldn’t let go. She said Sangria could drop dead that night. She recommended bloodwork, as well as injecting liquid in Sangria that would flush her out. Total cost? Just over $300.
If we knew Sangria was possibly dying, absolutely. But what do you do when you feel it’s a bogus diagnosis that’ll cost hundreds of dollars? We didn’t want to take her to another vet we didn’t know, only to pay for another office visit. Do we risk her health? Do we pay?
If you’re a pet owner, you already know the answer.
One of our regular vets called the next day. He said the bloodwork didn’t reveal plant toxins. Sangria, meanwhile, was soon back to her singing-and-chasing-paper-balls Siamese self.
Average annual U.S. pet expenses are in the thousands of dollars. There is pet insurance. We pay $300 a year for our two cats, but that only kicks in for big costs like operations. What costs should pet owners be prepared to pay? It’s a tough call—until you look into those blue eyes of your Siamese, saying something is off. Then there’s only one choice.
Yes, it’s always tough for me as well. We’ve had 7 cats over the years and one of the earlier ones developed a hyper thyroid problem and he couldn’t keep weight on, no matter what or how much he ate. At the time he was about 17 years old and had lived a long, spoiled and very much loved life. The vet we were seeing at the time recommended surgery with a very small % chance of extending his life a little, if he made it through surgery at all. We declined and the vet was in a little disbelief we opted out and had him put down. It was a very hard decision, but in this situation, I think it was the right one.
I am sympathetic. We’ve had four older dogs over the last few years, with myriad medical problems, and have the vet bills to prove it. Our vet explained to me that as new tests, procedures, and drugs are developed in human medicine, many of them are soon adapted for pets, so the vets feel obliged to offer them. Deciding when to say yes—and when to say no—is hard, and more often than not, just like you, we say yes.