The last 24 hours have been emotionally action-packed. Hamlet always vomits. His whole life he’s had occasions where he will barf a few times a week for a month and then be fine. Maybe he thinks he’s leaving his loved ones a gastrointestinal gift, I don’t know. Anyway, for almost two weeks there has been at least one barf a day and even though his behavior hadn’t changed, I was started to get worried. So I don’t want to get into the intricacies of cat vomit but my roommate and I both noticed last evening that the piles were more disturbing and there were way too many of them. I Googled a lot and was comforted by the fact that Hamlet was in a perfectly normal mood, but I called the vet and ended up taking him in, just in case.
$407.27 for them to make sure that he was fine (unblocked intestines and not poisoned by the Easter Bunny) and to send him home with a diagnosis of gastroenteritis, having been re-hydrated and x-rayed and all that jazz.
I came home, relieved about Hamlet but nearing a panic attack over the bill that I had numbly paid with a check. I was A Mess and it sucked because my roommate surely wanted to know about the cat but I couldn’t speak like a sane person and instead had to immediately go into my room, lock the door and turn the volume up on my TV so that I could cry a whole lot into my pillow (middle school memories!) and start to breathe again and then explain that everything was fine. It’s overwhelming to have to pay someone $400 out of nowhere, probably for anyone, but for me it’s just…a huge amount of money.
I had to get cash into my bank account today because the alternatives were/are unacceptable to me – get money from my brother (at least that much) and pay him back in a month when I get an expected bonus stipend at work, ask a friend, bounce a check AND then not make rent. Be an entire $400 behind or ask people who love me to financially support me. The one thing that I could do and that seemed like a prudent solution was to sell my not-engagement ring, which I did.
I had considered selling it months ago, because as pretty as it was and as much as I enjoyed it, I couldn’t exactly make use of it, but it seemed like a real shame how much value was lost in selling jewelry. I decided to hang onto it and maybe use it for an emergency. Sorry, Suze Orman, I don’t have 6-8 months of income saved like I know I am really supposed to. So, that’s what I did. (And, yes, I did not buy this ring, but I kept it because I was not the breaker of the engagement and it had been given to me and it didn’t feel wrong or unkind not to give it back.)
Hamlet is ok, seems like he is already keeping food down, but I had to make sure he was ok and he had to go to the stupid vet because as owner/pet we have an implied contract that I will do my best to keep him alive and he will continue to be my loyal furry companion.
Even before all the $$$$, I was a little emotional because I thought, of all things in my life that I like and that make me feel ok, I would be devastated the most by losing my cat. I mean, people aside. Having Hamlet around will never really be as emotionally fulfilling as another friendship or romantic entanglement, but what we have must be the purest relationship a person can have, seriously. We have an unconditional mutual affection. Even stepping in a (what ended up being $400) really unpleasant puddle of vomit yesterday doesn’t diminish my positive regard for this creature.
He’s precious. The ring was just shiny.