Vets, Pets, and Debts

In this modern world, I am considered an outcast.  I use words such as please, and thank you, and although many people where I currently reside don’t respond with a proper “you’re welcome”, I provide it for them.  It may occur on the street, opening a door for someone wearing a fur coat walking into a Walgreens who ignores me like a common criminal, or most recently, my lack of sophistication resting at a Veterinarian Clinic.

Yesterday, I was dealing with Comcast….pardon me, Veterinarians.  My window of opportunity to pick up an animal was hidden between nine A.M., FIVE P.M. and a place considered, according to me, bales of haystacks, “the vet clinic”.   Not minding the quoted bill at a couple hundred bucks, I made the infantile and critical mistake of thinking about the nomenclature of such a statement.  A couple makes two.  Today, I guess it means four.  Let this be a lesson to all those who are betting on anything these days.

But, that’s really not the good and bad part of the story.  When being contacted at Five or so P.M., I was there to greet our lovely cat suffering from something referred to as “old cat syndrome”.  Twenty minutes later, I requested the bill and asked if our cat could be released from his incarceration.  They complied with just a slight flaw.  Ten minutes later, they brought out leashes and belongings not belonging to our beloved family of animals, including husband and wife.  I must say that each and every day, I still have something to learn about animals, therefore, sheepishly, I asked a question to someone delivering these items.  “Aren’t these items for a dog?”  (I was fairly certain we didn’t bring our cat in on a leash.  Seems like a terrific idea, but it hasn’t worked for me in the last five years).

“Yes, she’ll be right out.”

“Ok, but there is one slight problem…….

“Oh, I’m sorry, what’s the problem?”

“Our pet is a cat and it’s a HE and we delivered him to you in a CAT SECURITY BOX.  GET THE DAMN CAT, BECAUSE I WISH TO NOT SPEND FRIDAY NIGHT AT THE VET….please.”

Our Tomcat, unfortunately named “LOLA” was a victim of his name.  I won’t blame anyone for this mistake, not even the one naming him.  The female dog’s name was Lola as well.

After all of this transpired, I felt as if I was the crazy one asking what I thought to be logical questions.  Then, I understood, they were looking at me as though I belonged, not at the clinic, but, rather, behind bars in a zoo.  I guess in this bizarre world of modern society, I don’t wish to fit in.  Please, thank you, as well as humans understanding the difference between dogs, cats and quotes seem easy to me.

You’re welcome.




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