The quote for the treatment is between £1,430 and £2,540.
As my Dad would say, ‘My ring dropped so low you could have cut twelve washers off of it’.
Which, if you think like me, is a week in the fucking Maldives!
There was talk of him being fed through tubes in his throat, neck and stomach.
MRI scans and ultra sounds.
At no point was I given the opportunity to scream,
“He’s a fucking cat!”
The Dignitas option was never even mentioned.
Not that I want him dead but he’s an outdoors cat.
Him having to spend the rest of his life indoors being fed through a tube does not meet my idea of ‘quality of life’ for him.
My chant of, ‘Thank fuck he’s insured, thank fuck he’s insured, thank fuck he’s insured…’ has taken on an almost Gregorian quality through its repetition.
I did have an absolutely sublime Paolo di Canio moment while we were waiting though.
As I was crouched down trying to comfort Ken, a wasp appeared and tried to get in with him.
I jumped up and away, while at the same time kicking out at the wasp.
Not only did I catch it with one of the sweetest volleys ever, it fell straight out of the air stone frigging dead.
I stamped on it for good measure.
You can't be too careful with a pissed off wasp.
The receptionist sat staring at me, shocked and opened mouthed.
“Did you see that!? I kicked that fecker straight out of the air! I totally OWNED that wasp!”
I am not good with facial expressions but I’m convinced the little voice in her head was shouting,
‘Security!’
She got that smile people have when they are urgently trying to call someone's name through their back teeth.
If that makes sense?
The seafront was gorgeous this afternoon. The sun brought out all sorts.
I even got wolf whistled by a couple of baby dykes, which was a bit freaky.
They'd obviously been to Pride in Brighton over the weekend and had come back all emboldened and proud.
Bless them.
1 comment:
Pet insurance is very seductive - one time, after another 'open vein' incident with Alfie - I was offered the chance to let him have the new artificial plasma blood replacement - it was brand new and very expensive, they were obviously as excited as I was to be able to find someone fully insured who had a large dog that was bleeding to death - they gave him gallons of the stuff, I was kept busy with cups of tea and soothing words - they were off with the faeries "another half litre nurse, for luck, - he's insured!!" I suspect they had a party afterward, and all got hampers from the drug's company rep.
Alfie recovered very quickly, and is now part greyhound, part chemistry set.
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