$300. That’s how much my one-year-old puppy* cost me on Friday.
As a childless individual – and I’m very much okay with that – my dog is pretty much the only other living creature on this earth I must worry about aside from myself. And, truth be told, she probably eats better than I do as I regard her health far above my own. I mean, how many 20-somethings out there who regularly munch on fast food, a variety of pastas, pepperoni pizza and way-too-much white rice solely feed their Heinz-57 (i.e. mutt) puppies natural/organic meals and treats?
Yep. I’m a bit of a moron.
Friday brought my beloved Sophie and I to her annual vet appointment where I assumed the bill would reach into three digits. She was due for her shots and I wanted to discuss some skin issues my baby girl – yes, I call her that – had been having. Being the underpaid individual that I am, I waited for my federal tax refund before scheduling an appointment and with four digits worth of monies back from the government, I knew spending 1/4 of that on my glasses-eating, accident-having dog would be perfectly possible even if I somewhat wanted nothing more than to splurge my dollars on this beautiful chair-and-a-half I’ve been pining over for several months.
One hour later, my puppy-puppy – I also refer to her as such because yes, I am that lame awesome – had her annual vaccines and a complete checkup as well as medicated shampoo, prescription meds for her skin irritation, a year supply of heartworm pills and the undoubtedly uncomfortable feeling lingering long after a long blue stick was shoved up her ass for a fecal sample. (I hope none of you were consuming your lunch as you read that. My apologies.)
And so I shelled out $244 at the vet’s office before traveling to Petco with my slightly violated Sophie and waving goodbye to another $60 for the Frontline flea meds the doctor strongly recommended. She also pranced out of the store as the proud owner of an organic pork bone she refused to put down which made its way into the trash two days later because it made her shit turn yellow and that kinda creeped me out.
Was my puppy girl worth the dough? Of course. Should I have become a veterinarian and made millions (overestimate, I know) overcharging overworked/underpaid pet owners for a multitude of tests, problems, etc. that they likely know nothing about? Clearly.
* This blog entry gives me an amazing excuse to post some pictures of my Sophie baby girl.
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