Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Fun with veterinarians

We changed veterinarians after the last one put down Hannah, our golden retriever, for cancer (legitimate) then killed my pug Ming. When I say "killed," I mean one of the colleagues of our chief vet guilted us into getting dental surgery for Ming even though the chief had told us months before she wouldn't survive it.

She didn't and died on the table.

It was horrific.

As a result, Gordie, who was also undergoing dental, became an only pug and we were out three grand.

Another time, the chief vet nearly killed Gordie when she was operating on him for crystals in his bladder. She sewed him up wrong and had to pay another vet to re-operate on him.

That should have been our first clue that we didn't hire the Vet of the Century.

In response to killing Ming, Dr. Kevorkian told us how very sorry she was, then sent a donation to the Ottawa Humane Society on our behalf, then sent us a grief card.

I'm always amazed at these "random acts of kindness". Why didn't she just give us a discount on our bill instead of sending a donation which makes her look good to the Humane Society while reinfecting us with grief? After all, who paid for the donation? We did.

Don't get it.

Anyway, after the Ming episode, we went looking for a new vet. We decided on two, one for boys -- The Black Bastard Finnigan and Gordie -- and another one for little Sophie. I wanted two vets just in case one turned out to be an asshat.

This decision turned out to be a good one.  Sophie's vet is marvelous. The second guy not so much. He is creepy and keeps looking at my boobs. Finnigan doesn't like him, either, and bears his teeth at him if the guy goes near his back end. As a result, Finn has to wear a muzzle around Dr. Don.

Yesterday, we called to get thyroid pills for Gordie only to be told that the clinic didn't stock his dosage, the dosage the vet prescribed for Gordie after hundreds of dollars of tests.

Dr. Don called to say we could pick up our pills at the local pharmacy. The pills would cost $20 at the Shopper's Drug Mart, though we would also have to pay the vet an administrative fee for arranging somebody else to put pills a bottle.

Scott questioned why we had to pay twice as much for the pills. The vet then reminded us that he had given us a $130 discount for Gordie's tests, which turned out to show he did not have Cushing's. We never thought he had Cushing's.

Anyway, Scott hung up on Dr. Don, who called us back and said he would wave the dispensing fee.

Scott told him to get stuffed and just give us the pills that were nearest to Gordie's dosage, reminding the vet that Gordie is in, for all in intents and purposes, palliative care.

That will be the last time that vet sees Gordie.

Now we have one vet.

 

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