This Grizzly Reality

14^th March 2015

Dear Cassi,

       

I have so much to say about my wounded little cat. Well, writing about my pain dulls it some and gives me the strength to face this grizzly reality. When I gave Ire her medication that first time Pickle started crying. He’s thirty nine and crying over a wounded cat that isn’t his. Well, the liquid painkillers helped.

       

In any case, when I took my little silver gray cat to the eye specialist they quoted me for two separate operations. To simply remove the eye was almost three thousand dollars and to repair it, which would likely not save Ire’s sight, was nearly four thousand. Treating the condition medically would only cost six hundred.  I read later that she had quoted someone else twelve and eighteen hundred for these operations.

       

Now, as I mentioned, the specialist’s tools looked very old, and I told her so during the examination. She ignored me. It left a silence in the air that made me question if those tools were still modern. Further, there were old dusty books in the examination room and other objects that would have been hard to keep clean. A bit of dust in a damaged eye can make all the difference.

       

One thing that I did care for was that the vet wrapped my cat in a towel before conducting the examination. This kept her legs firmly secured so that she couldn’t scratch. It was a green towel, which I didn’t care for. White towels are kept for medical use so that they can be kept clean. It’s hard to miss dirt on a white towel.

       

The final point was that the vet didn’t bother to discuss the medications with me before I left. She said they were just strait forward. I didn’t know that there was a medication that needed refrigeration until I had slept and woke up again. I need to find a better eye doctor.

Know the world, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal