My Big Fat Orange Cat

Driving up through Chicago to Milwaukee I am surprised at how close Chicago is to Wisconsin. I forget every time I visit. I expect the long drive from Portland to Seattle but I end up with an hour or so drive. Dennis drove, following the directions of the GPS, which has the intense desire to show us sights we never would have seen. I cannot figure why it took us down Countyline Road to get to Racine when two exits up there is a direct shot with only one turn to my Aunt’s.

Of course, somewhere on Countyline Road it also got confused, but I saw a sign for 30 and recalled driving on that north of my aunts. I am sure that if we go North we’ll run into something that either I recognize or the GPS will return.

Racine is the home of my mom’s family. My father’s family lives farther out in the county. Their mailing address is Franksville, which we used to pass through quickly with a nod to the Sauerkraut factory, where my grandmother worked until they forced her to retire when she was 70 or 75. I can’t remember which. Driving by there and out farther you end up in Raymond Center.

The farm is still there and still stands, though we don’t know for how much longer. It is strange to me to be at the farm with no one there. There were always people around. Someone always answered when you said, “Anybody home?” which was how you greeted people on the farm, opening the door, walking in and yelling that.

One of my aunts laughed remembering my Aunt Jenny doing that, as she saw everyone sitting around the table. What did she expect they said? We were all dead and these were our ghosts?!

Still, there was a habit of that and I found myself doing it in past years. But these days no one lives there and for the first time in it’s hundred or more years of life there is no one home at the farm. Sandi’s son has been mowing and it looks nice. I half expect a neighbor to come by and ask me what I’m doing skulking around the house and barn but no one comes. My cousin knows we’ve been there so no doubt there were phone calls being made where I couldn’t see them.

There’s 100 acres there that are all ours. I feel at home here in a way that nothing else is home. I don’t understand the draw but it is home. My husband thinks he could live easily in Wisconsin. Part of me hopes that this can be a place of retirement for us. There is even a ski hill down at Wilmot Mt. I can ski those runs and travel when I need something more substantial. Still Wisconsin is flat. How can I leave my hills in Seattle?

I am a child of two lands. I am my child of the land where I live here in Seattle. I am still drawn at my core to the land of my father and his father and his mother’s father. That land has my name on it. I have never lived there. Though I was born in Milwaukee, a fact I point out to my husband on our “tour” of the sights I must show him, I have never lived on the farm. Still that land calls me like no other. I know it is a place where my family has lived and it pains me that they might be moving on. If the money is right perhaps one of my cousins children will buy part of the land and live there. They feel the call too.

The people in Milwaukee and Racine are inevitably nice. I find people here much friendlier than in the Northwest, though I would be hard pressed to explain how. They are just a little more open. One friend described the people of the Northwest as passive aggressive. We all took that with a grain of salt as he is from New Jersey and they are all just aggressive. But I get a sense of what he means every time I visit the Midwest.

There are lovely people on our tour of the Pabst Mansion. I have been by it. My father has pointed it out. I have never been inside. I didn’t know you could go inside. I didn’t know there were tourist things to do in Milwaukee. After all, in my time here I have been chauffered often my father who showed me the sights of his childhood-the farm, Aunt Jenny’s, the Sauerkraut factory, Lee’s Hardware store, the corner where Jenny’s Hats used to be, the cemetery, the cemetery his mother is buried, the hospital I was born in, the apartments he and my mother lived in… so many places. And of course Leon’s.

It is a surprise to me that I can’t find the West Lawn Cemetery in the GPS. I know vaguely where it is so we find it. However, in Milwaukee as we look for Leon’s, I input Leon’s and there it is. A Milwaukee landmark. They have frozen custard to die for. Apparently Bill Clinton made a habit of visiting it when he was in Milwaukee. I am sure my father would not be pleased. He didn’t much care for Clinton. I don’t know why. Clinton was for everything my father believed in–it’s just that Clinton was a Dem and my father was an old style Republican.

The frozen custard tastes as good no matter what your particular political views.

And we head back to my Aunt’s. We’ll be visiting the cat bloggers at Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. I am looking forward to this as I haven’t been there either and wonder that I’ve missed it. Chicago, after all, is not all that far.

One of my friends has a very old dog. He’s slowly going down hill and is beginning to find himself less and less comfortable.

She is worrying about how will she know when it’s time.  Of course there are her other concerns. The holidays are coming up and there are all these social things that she wants to participate in and have fun at.  She doesn’t want to go to a holiday party fresh from the veterinarian.  Then when people ask what she did or how her dog is, guess what the answer gets to  be.

She wants to do the best thing for her dog.  She’s worried she’ll miss a clue.  She’s worried that he’s trying to say something that maybe she won’t know.

In all my years as a veterinary receptionist no one ever said they choose the wrong time. People second guess themselves about a lot of things (should we have done that surgery?  Why did we put them through this and this when they only had this short time left…) but rarely do they second guess themselves about the choice of euthanasia.  I have wondered once in my life when a cat’s quality of life and my own collided.  This cat was in kidney failure but was still pretty happy. However he had no bladder control and whenever he would jump he would pee all over everything.  And he loved to jump  And while he wasn’t allowed on the kitchen counters he jumped there a lot. And near my food.   How many dinners did I get to toss?  Sigh.

Sometimes I wonder if I euthanized him too soon.  But I know that he didn’t have that much longer and there was no hope.

I worry that I am waiting too long for my Georgia.  But she is so content to just snooze all the time.  She isn’t uncomfortable from anything that I can gather.

It’s always a tough decision. I think it is far harder on us than on our pets. Here we are grieving and they haven’t even left us.  Here we are thinking always of their demise and they are still here and unconcerned.  They understand in some way that death happens and it doesn’t matter exactly when if you have lived fully. We need to understand that so long as they go out with love it’s a good way to go.

Sometimes veterinary medicine makes me feel older than anything else. I feel like some old lady always screeching about “I remember when…” rather than living in the now.  All I need is a cane.

For instance, I remember when Amoxicillan, you know, the pink stuff that you keep in the fridge when your cat gets sick, cost $6.00 plus tax.  Yes really. Now it’s $20 something.  It’s the same stuff.   There’s no research into this.  It’s not a new antibiotic that’s oh so much more effective. No it’s Amoxi.  And it’s expensive.  Whatever happened?

I understand that costs can be outside the veterinarians ability to change. I mean if the pharmaceutical companies are charging you so much, you have to pass that on.  I get that.  But what happened? How did medical costs suddenly go up so much?

I take out my cane, “I remember when it cost $18 for an examination at the veterinarian…” my voice shakes.

Now it’s closer to $50 for a basic exam.

No wonder there are pet insurers out there. Of course if you’ve missed the boat and your pet has a pre-exisiting condition, they are worse off than you are with one!  Well, maybe not. I mean at least the vet insurance just says they won’t cover you for it–end of line.  No other double talk.

Still…

I have to wonder about some of those low income people who adore there pets.  How do they take care of them, even minimally?  I am saddened to think of that because after all pets can help us live longer, healthier lives.   They make us happy.   Not being able to care for them has to be one of the most powerless feelings in the world.

I remember working at a vet clinic and I remember feeling for those people who came to our office. Not everyone has money. The people who really love their pets want to do the best by them but don’t always have the money.

I remember once, perhaps a year or so after I started at the vet, one of my doctors came out of a room. She was seeing a young couple who had never visited our clinic before. They had a kitten who was sneezing and coughing. It was obviously quite sick. They called up asking the prices of things.

I believe at that time we charged about $22 for an examination. Antibiotics and such were extra. Apparently in the room the couple told our doctor that they had $27.35 to spend on the cat and were hoping they could do something for it for that price. They were obviously sincere and wanted something for this tiny cat that they couldn’t afford but wanted to do what they could, honestly.

My doctor walked out of the room and gave me the invoice sheet where she had marked things down. She whispered, “They said they have $27.35. Make everything come out to about $26 so they can afford the tax as well.”

I remember going to the computer and changing numbers as I could and rechanging numbers for those items that would not be changed. Their kitten got an antibiotic injection and basic antibiotics as well as a nail trim for that cost.

That young couple took wonderful care of that cat. They were prompt about having her spayed. After the first year where they struggled for vaccinations, as time wore on they were able to keep up on the annual exams. That kitten didn’t get sick very much and turned into a lovely cat, considering how awful it had looked as a baby. I know they came back because of the compassion of this doctor. They would only see her.

I think about them sometimes and wonder what paths their lives have taken. I wonder how long the kitten lived. I wonder sometimes if it is even still alive, one of those wonderful geriatric cats who are often the most touching cats to work with.

As I stand at my veterinarian, a bit richer but not with unlimited funds being told my cat needs a dental and it will cost between $600 and $1200 dollars. I ask, well I can afford about $700 or so right now. Can we make sure it only comes to that? The response I get is No. I can put it on a credit card. I say my limit right now is $700 and that’s why I can afford about that much. They suggest I get my limited raised.

I can’t afford that I say. You have to they remind me. This is my cat’s life.

Yes, it is my cat’s life. And it is mine. I can make choices between many things. However, can I choose between paying the rent or between taking care of my cat?  What is my option?

Ultimately yes I did go to a different vet. They were able to do everything for about $650. They had quoted me a price for an initial visit and it came out to less than I had expected. I did say I was concerned about having too many of her teeth pulled at one time. She is a young cat. The costs worked for me and my cat.

I’ll go to this vet. I think they would have worked with me to keep the price as low as possible.

I understand that there is overhead. I understand that there are people out there who won’t pay. I understand that people take advantage of the good nature of veterinarians.   However, I have to wonder why another veterinarian can do the entire amount of work for less than the amount I asked about at the prior vet.  Everyone has costs, but if another vet can make a profit on less than I can afford to pay, then how can another vet not make an exception or find a way to work with an honest client?

I wonder about the people working in that first office. How do they turn people away day after day?  How do they stand the frustrations they have to hear?  Our pet’s health is very emotional for all of us.  Not having money is an embarrassment and also an emotional issue.  What sort of emotional armor do those front office people have to wear to go to work day after day.  In fact, how do they get out of bed in the morning?

I have to wonder.  I am glad to not have to break that kind of news any longer.   I am thrilled to see that there are still compassionate veterinarians out there who will work with clients.   I am further thrilled that my cat still has some teeth post dental!