In the old, more heartless days, whenever a pet got sick, most people simply “put it out of its misery” or maybe just walked it into traffic.
But that was then.
Now you hear people who barely take care of their own medical problems saying stuff like, “I’m getting 14 rounds of kitty dialysis for my little Whiskers. If it doesn’t work out, we might have to do a transplant.”
Huh? For a creature that sheds, causes allergies, demands things all day, doesn’t talk, and can barely return a hug?
Or “We’re deciding if Roscoe should get radiation or chemo. Maybe both. We’ll start with a lumpectomy and then proceed from there.”
What? For a freakin’ dog?????
Their devotion is touching, but part of me wants to say, “These procedures don’t always even work on humans–and you’re going to spend a fortune on them for a lowly, caca-for-brains glorified barnyard critter? It was so much easier when we realized their time was up and let it go!”
But there’s something about the bond between an owner and a pet that I can’t fully fathom–and have never been able to, ever since my pet turtle turned into mush before I could even consider any medical options.
For those in the throes of such devotion, there’s no limit to the expense and trouble they’ll rack up in the name of caring.
So what about you?
Would you go to the max for your critter?
Would you take them for treatments, get second opinions, and sit there rubbing salve into their surgery scars as they recuperate?
Would you even get them Botox treatments?