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A Pox on Banfield Pet HospitalPosted Thursday, November 3, 2011, at 9:19 PM
It pertains to a visit I made as a (fortunately, thankfully, hallelujah praise be the Lord) pet insured person, for to have any animal, even a gerbil without pet insurance could be credit rating hari kari, in my humble opinion anyway. Somewhere in the middle of a blessed trip to the holy land of Chicago with my two canine companions, Bitsy Boo and Mookie Moo, I got a premonition the way some people have dreams. Some people have premonitions about finding money or world events, well, I had a premonition that Bitsy Boo was going to get sick once we were out of town and my regular vet wasn't around. I don't know if she has any deep-seated resentment against me, but I just knew it and right as rain, I was right. So I did what any hysterical pet owner would do. I began hunting and pecking for a veterinarian on the Internet.
The first one wanted an office fee of ninety dollars. "Fie on that one," I thought after quickly adding any x-ray fees and any other charges they'd think of in my head.
The second one wanted an entrance fee of thirty-five dollars, which was better, so off we went, one (fairly) healthy and tall owner, one healthy and shorter dog and one with a condition I already diagnosed from past occurrences.
I told the vet at Banfield Pet Hospital in Skokie, Illinois, my diagnosis, but she said it could be other things, too that translated into about $700.00 worth of tests. Once my eyes stopped dilating I read everything more carefully and decided on only a few tests.
My regular vet's office even faxed over Bitsy Boo's chart with a diagnosis for the same thing, but that vet wouldn't budge. Four hundred and seventy-five dollars later, what was the diagnosis? What I said it was. Thank you pet insurance, is all I can say. I'd also like to thank the Academy, my parents and my Girl Scout Troop leader or Troop 475 in Wilmette for teaching me to be prepared for any emergency that I might encounter.
Back on well tred turf, I called my regular vet who also thought the bill was on par for a lobster and Steak dinner for six at Arnie's North in Chicago and said that he would have prescribed something for me over the phone. Bless that man.
And it is incidents like these that make me wonder why I did not go to veterinary school.
I'm Not Crazy -- It's Them
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Behold, I, like many others before me, come forth with a new blog. Mine, however, starts off with posts about the joys and wonders of pepper spray then branches out to other maladies as well.
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