I want to CASTRATE a certain veterinarian!!!!

Ok, it's like this.

On November 19, I took one of my cats into the vet for a workup. She was getting older, having a little trouble keeping her food down, and I wanted to know that she was not in pain and find out if there was anything I could do for her.

Almost $ 400.00 worth of x-rays and blood work ups showed nothing. But that was cool, he prescribed a laxative that would help her keep her food down. 'Nuff said. We go home and rock along for a couple of weeks, force feeding a cat who does not want laxative laxative and generally getting along pretty much like we were. I'd had her for ten years, I was fully expecting that there would be a couple of more good ones before I had to make the decision that I did.

On January 14, we had to have our 12 year old cat put down. Cancer. I can accept that. Animals get cancer just like humans do and the treatment is often worse for them than the disease. He wasn't eating, sleeping, socializing, he was barely breathing on the last day. Cancer got my Roofie cat, but I got twelve years with the Roofie.

January 18, my mom calls me at work, Harlow is weaving as she walks, throwing up and not eating or drinking. And when this cat is not tanking up on water, something is definetly up. I left work and found a vet that was open and could see Harlow that afternoon. Once there Harlow is rehydrated and given a shot for nausea. We go home with a referral for another vet who does the eqivalent of cat colonoscopies and I make an appointment for the next week.

Monday, January 21 gets here. Harlow is once again weaving and bobbing as she walks,her breathing is raspy and labored, she stares into the water bowl for five minutes at a time and then gets up and painfully walks off. I can't take looking at her like that, she is completely dehydrated again and she won't look me or anybody in the face. She cried out in pain every time someone touched her or she touched something. She simply wanted to be left alone to hide with her face to the wall in a cabinet in the den.

I called the vet to cancel the colonoscopy and called the Friday afternoon vet to see if I could being her in to be put down. If you want to stay with your animal, you have to have an appointment. After 11 years together I could not bear the thought of leaving her alone with strangers to die. In the afternoon before the appointment we went to get some lunch, and event thought I was not in the least bit hungry I pounded down a plate of Tex-Mex and two bowls of chips. I stopped on the way home for a milkshake too. I eat when stressed, and the thought of not having my Beanie around anymore was sure as hell a stressor. She loved me more than I ever loved myself, and I loved her like she was my own child. In a way she was. She just had four legs and no voice box.

We took her to the vet, got in a little examination room and waited. The vet administered a sedative because cats apparently will fight like hell at the end, and at that point the only one that she could hurt anymore would be herslef. I stood over the corpse of my best friend and watched as her muscles twitched and she let out a final shudder.

My heart broke at that moment and frankly I'm not sure how long it's going to take to mend. I feel just as raw about it today as I did yesterday. I was purposefully silent at work today to avoid ripping into anyone.

Her November vet called me today. He had pulled out Beanie's charts and X-rays from November when the Friday vet called and he "might not have mentioned it" but her X-rays showed signs of her developing spondkylitis back in November.

Fuck no you didn't mention it.

It is incurrable in humans, there isn't much treatment other than pain management. Had I known that in November, I would have made myself say goodbye to Beanie before I did and not put her through the pain she's obviously been feeling.

I will hate a certain veterinarian until the day I die.