It seems like only yesterday, probably because it was last Tuesday, that I was telling the boyfriend that things were looking up, that we finally seemed to be getting our heads above water. The bills were paid and there was even a little left to stash away in a rainy day fund.
Well, the rainy day came Thursday.
The dogs had been acting not quite themselves for weeks. We chalked it up to the turmoil of the move and the fact they were having to deal with something new... stairs. But last week the symptoms became somewhat more acute and I decided we needed to get them into the vet. Shortly after we had moved here we found a groomer right down the street. It was also a vet's office and since the dogs had been well cared for and the staff seemed extremely nice, and without other recommendations, I booked a Thursday afternoon appointment.
We sat in the exam room for only a few minutes when the Korean doctor came in. I'm ashamed to admit that my mind jumped to all kinds of horrible stereotypes, but you would have too if you'd seen how he was examining my little dog, like a rump roast. A cursory physical exam didn't yield much, other than the fact that their teeth were in desperate need of a cleaning. We decided to do x-rays to rule out any back issues (a prudent move when dealing with aging dachshunds) and the Dr. wanted to do bloodwork on my older dog. We left with few answers and $600 poorer.
The bloodwork came back around lunch the next day and I was shocked. Shocked... that they had gotten results that quickly. The boyfriend went to the doctor two weeks ago and he's STILL waiting for results! That pretty much sums up the American healthcare system...dysfunctional at best. The results weren't good. My older dog has diabetes and will now have to be on insulin for the rest of his life. But before we could address that, their teeth would need to be cleaned.
I dropped them off yesterday morning and the preliminary estimate was that it would be around $800. "That doesn't include extractions" the sunny little assistant said at the desk. "Extractions are $65 each." The Dr. had also wanted to remove a suspect fatty deposit on my older dog's flank and he suggested we do it at the same time, while he was under anesthesia. I agreed and left, planning to pick them up late in the day.
During lunch I received a call, the dogs had to have some teeth removed after all... 22! Seventeen from my poor little dog alone! Suddenly I felt like the worst daddy on the face of the earth and all afternoon I dreaded picking them up. And the dread was well founded once I got the bill, $1200. They took pity on us and gave us the "bulk rate" on the extractions.
Yesterday was one of the worse days ever.
My little dog looks like Grandma Moses. I think she's only got about 4 teeth left, but I don't know for sure because she refuses to let me look in her mouth. She gets her vanity from her other daddy. And my older dog looks like Frankenstein, a three inch stapled incision across his side. And he hates me. The boyfriend fell apart once he saw the dogs and last night proved to be horrible for all around.
My older dog is going to hate me even more today because I had to take him back so they could start him on insulin. I have to go back later this afternoon to learn how to give him shots, twice a day for the rest of his life. That should do wonders for our relationship.
