Canine Bank Robber (Woof!)

I just have to stop writing about Jack, because it's getting expensive!

I took him to the vet yesterday for his annual check-up, which is one of those unavoidable duties. We do not have pet insurance, so I knew this would be a pretty hefty chunk o' change, but I didn't know how much of a wallop we would actually get. He is, after all, a Senior Citizen now ...

When I checked in, I was immediately given a sheet of paper outlining all of the tests that they "recommend" he receive now that he is an Elder Canine. Blood work for over $100, chest x-ray for $100, blood pressure, urinalysis, this-that-and-the-proverbial-other-thing ... it totaled around $300. I quietly folded up the purple sheet and put it in my purse. Yeah.

Jack was in his usual convulsive state, staring glumly out the glass door at the free outside world while his body shook so hard his tags jangled. Poor thing was in absolute misery. Thankfully the wait was only about 10 minutes -- long enough to leave a mound of hair on the floor shaken loose from their follicles -- and we went into the exam room. The shaking subsided a bit and his head hung low as he slowly walked onto the scale, tail down, ears flat, eyes almost welling up with dog-tears. 30 pounds -- the absolute spot-on, perfect weight for a Beagle. I felt a bit of pride, for many Beagles his age suffer from obesity. Not our beautiful dog. It didn't perk him up, though.

I talked a while with the vet about our dog food problem, and she agreed with both my friend and the pet food man. Dog Chow is the equivalent of feeding your dog greasy potato chips, and even though Pro Plan is a little bit better, she advised we switch to Wellness at some point. Then came the shots, the checking of various body parts, and so on. Turns out, poor Jack has been one miserable, suffering dog. He has the beginnings of an ear infection -- not uncommon in Beagles, since their ears hang low and air cannot cleanly circulate in the canal. We've been down that road many times. And his poor teeth ... caked with tartar and in need of a good cleaning. His gums were inflamed, in the beginning stages of periodontal disease -- not there yet, but on the cusp. This usually happens as a dog reaches Senior Status, so it was no surprise. But still ... we're talking major buckeroos for doggie dental work.

I was taught how to brush his teeth, something we now must do every day. My goodness -- I can hardly discipline myself enough to clean the bathroom, or do Grace's therapy exercises ... am I really going to get into the routine of brushing Jack's teeth?! They gave me a tube of toothpaste -- chicken flavor, no less -- and I have to get him used to having my fingers in his mouth. I'm not looking forward to that -- I think this will be two-person job, one to hold the muzzle and the other to play Fear Factor with his pointy fangs. The vet recommended we take advantage of Doggie Dental Month -- February -- which offers 20% off the bill. Woo-hoo ... what's 20% off of $400??!! What a steal.

The irony makes me smile ... in that stomach-sickening way. For the past two weeks I have been wracking my brain, trying to figure out how to afford to send my kids to the dentist, which they sorely, sorely need now. I'm not even thinking about Don or myself at this point. And now the vet is telling me that time is of the essence with my beloved pooch -- that if he doesn't get a cleaning now, his teeth will fall out. OK, maybe that's extreme, but his dental disease will worsen, he will be in extreme pain ... the usual Catch 22. Pay up now for the prevention of worse things later on? Or save our pennies and hope for the best? I told her I had to think about it, because it was too much money to make a snap decision. She understood, but wanted to draw a little blood in case we decide to do it -- they have to do that, for some reason, so I gave her the go-ahead. Might as well, right? Boy, that would come back to bite me ...

I was not in a happy mood when I walked back to the front desk, Jack calm now, knowing escape is within his grasp. But the final bill for that day plummeted me to even further depths of financial despair. I paid it grudgingly, for what choice did I have? At least he won't get Lyme's Disease this year.

Ah, but the tail's tale doesn't end there. Around 5:00 p.m. one of the vet techs called. They checked his urine (for a mere $42). Did we know that Jack has a bad urinary track infection? Oh, man ... maybe his peeing on the kitchen floor episode the night before wasn't necessarily out of fright or old age, but out of illness (or, most likely, a combination of both). Poor thing -- I did feel bad for him. "Well," said the tech, "We have antibiotics waiting for him at the counter, so if you can come back tonight by 8:00 p.m. to pick them up that would be great. He needs to get on them right away." UGH -- another trip out, another whack to our wallet.

We piled the kids into the dark, cold car after dinner and went back to the vet. Don went in to take care of the transaction and came out looking grim. Not only did we have to pay an extra $25 for the antibiotics, but they also forgot to add the blood work on the previous bill, so he had to pay that as well -- $110. I just closed my eyes. My stomach ached. My brain couldn't help but do a little math, blaring silently the final tally of the day:

$375.00

I was in physical pain, I think. There goes the saved-up funds ear-marked for "more important" things. Will it be replenished? Who knows. Another kick in the butt ... and another lesson in trusting God. I wrote about it; I have to practice it. No better time like the present! Here we go -- reality, stark and painful at times. Trusting in God's provision, even for our dog. But ... ouch ...

It's not Jack's fault.
I do love my dog.
And I think -- I know -- God loves him too.