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Price of unqualified love - pets


Why is it that cats get no respect? Are they actually the Rodney Dangerfield of the bodily world? Dogs get the revered title of "Man's Best Friend," while the domestic felines seem to be bastardized as excitable annoyances. Sure, they can be choosy creatures, as I've heard abundant complaints over the years from guy links that they have had to pass the "cat test" already being paid any play from the female owners they are pursuing. If you are nice to them and bring a fuzzy toy or yummy treat (the cats, not the women), you will have them wrapped about your handle (and her wrapped about your body) in no time. As a male with cats, I have found that my pets are great chick magnets. Of course, I have to in point of fact get the women in my home to see them since I cannot take the cats out for a amble in the neighborhood, but once the hard part is done, it's efficient sailing from there. The only affect here is that she likes the cats more than me!

I have nil anti dogs, but I have constantly lived in apartments, which is much more advantageous for raising cats. I presently have two furry pals, Ghost (an all-white, male Scottish Fold) and Betty (a female with black and ginger tortoise coloring), and I am still remembrance the loss of Cali (the calico), who agreed away last winter. Having never been married, they are truly my offspring and I spoil them as such. They attractive much rule the household and I just pay the rent. With them around, there is no need for a clock, as they frequently let me know when it's time to wake up and when it's time for feeding (the last more intensely than the former).

If I had one ailment about my cats (other than the disproportionate summertime shedding), it would be that they can develop into money pits as they get on in years (not different dogs, I would guess). Ghost is a squeaky 15-year-old and Betty is a spry 10-year-old, and we had quite a visit to the vet last month. Ghost was scheduled to have a connect of teeth pulled and Betty went along for the ride to get a check up. All through the pre-tooth-pulling examination, we naked Ghost had a heart murmur. The vet sought to run some blood tests and maybe do a cardiogram on him ahead of putting him to sleep and risking him never waking up again (God forbid), so he dodged that bullet for now. He thinks he's in the clear, and I haven't stained that dream by effective him that the car ride to the vet is the least of his worries.

While inspection out Betty, the vet found that she had some teeth that considered necessary extracting, as well. Since she was also on Ghost's pre-surgery fasting diet, Betty was the (un)lucky one to have the oral prodding this day. It was enormously awkward to see her lying there anesthetized, looking like road kill, so soon after asset Cali in my arms while she was put down. But the truly affecting part of this nightmare was study her try to wake up, stand, and walk. She looked certainly miserable as she cruised the high-rise like a drunken sailor, bumping into walls and declining over. It may sound comical, but this was my precious hardly girl, and it hurt me to see her suffering. (I later got over the distress part once I realized she was dopey from the painkillers I was benevolent her. While on the subject, can I tell you how cruel it felt to force open her sore mouth so I could administer the drugs? Not fun!) I did administer to get her off the painkillers ahead of she got hooked like many Hollywood stars and had to check in to the kitty edition of the Betty Ford Clinic.

In the end, this day of mirth and joy at the vet devoured my bank account. The examination and blood work of both cats, plus four teeth pulled, antibiotics and painkillers set me back over a grand, and that's not counting the cardiogram and doable tooth extractions for Ghost that are appearance up next week. Am I complaining? Hell no; these are my kids and you can't put a price tag on unqualified love. If they are happy and affection well, then there's more kitty love for me.

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