Okay, I complete adore her and wouldn’t change a thing. But, oh, I wish we’d found Patches at the Humane Society.
I got Sandy for $50 — actually, $35 because they give a discount to low-income people. For that price, Sandy was guaranteed spayed, clear of bugs, vaccinated and even microchipped.
When we took Patches to the vet, there was a $130 bill attached. It could’ve been worse, too. If she hadn’t already been spayed, I have no idea what that would have added.
So when Tim noticed that one of her paws looked infected — while she was homeless, the hot, Arizona pavement had actually burned them — I had a bad feeling. A well justified bad feeling, as it turned out.
A $221 bill later, Tim brought a very traumatized, head-coned Patches back with carefully bandaged paw. Her first act upon returning was to run into the sliding glass door, thanks to the cone. (“I do not like the cone of shame!”)
Since then, she has run into just about every wall in the house and gotten caught on countless objects. In fact, as I write this, her bandage got caught on a plastic grocery bag, and she dragged it halfway around the room.
I feel kind of bad about laughing, but it’s really hilarious. Besides, we ought to get our money’s worth out of the situation.
Is it totally wrong that I totally want to throw a Skittle or M&M in there?
In the coming week, Tim will need to administer antibiotics two or three times a day. Plus, she’ll need a follow-up visit to see how the wound in healing. Unless she manages to get the bandage off herself, in which case an extra visit will be called for. And I would feel compelled to throw our checkbook at her out of furious symbolism.
It’s a good thing she’s cute, is all I’m sayin’.