It's official: I am a crazy cat lady. I've spent more on health care for my cats than I have on myself.
When it comes to my personal health, I don't sleep right, I eat garbage and I hold off on doctor's visits until I'm vomiting blood or so weak my boyfriend has to carry me to the car and drive me.
When it comes to my cats, I have my veterinarian on speed dial and they know my fur babies by name. As soon as the vet techs see my bright, red hair lugging cat carriers across the parking lot, they're at-the-ready to snuggle my kitties.
My cats are on expensive, prescription cat food because my little girl, Bastet, is prone to urinary track infections, a nuisance that has racked up several hundred dollars in vet visits and more than a few gouges and bite marks on my wrist from wrestling liquid antibiotics and horse pills into her mouth.
Nanook, my 17-pound scaredy cat, is a fan of lapping up the water from a $30 filtered water fountain, another suggestion by my vet to prevent UTIs. He's terrified of plastic bags, new toys and the vacuum cleaner but by God, nothing keeps him from his food dish.
This week, both kitties had to go back to vet for worms – an adventure that included an Ultimate Fighting Championship-style face-off between the cats and myself to get them in their carriers.
Since there's no sign of fleas, I assume the darned felines ate an infected bug, possibly a palmetto bug. (Florida is so gross sometimes.) Regardless, we had to pay for the flea medication in addition to the de-worming pills, "just in case."
And I thought the $75 adoption fee from the shelter for each of them was a tad high. Sheesh. Just add it to my tab, Doctor. I'll see you again in July for the next set of vaccinations and my kidney for payment.
In all seriousness, the folks at Trinity Pet Hospital are fabulous. Their services might make me have to choose between a vet visit and making my car payment, but I know my babies will come back to me healthy, if not happy. I wouldn't be thrilled with a thermometer up my rear end either.