Vet medicine is a woman’s racket. And for good reason: household pets are all about fulfilling emotional imperatives and psychological needs, and women excel at those things. I acknowledge and respect that. Dealing with sick animals and bereaved owners ... I’ve never seen a man do it well. Some customers need that.
Like many vet practices, our former vet centre was run exclusively by women. That is great when everything is good and you’re doing routine checkups and prescriptions and that kinda thing. But when you combine the vet practice with the corporate mindset, those women will produce a corporate state of absolute, heartless fuckery. (Pardon my fwench, but there’s no nice way to say it). Example: when Sinker The World’s Stupidest Cat miled out... it was his time. I took him down, almost in a daze, confronted with what I had to do... and those women played me like a fiddle! They’d talked me into an expensive battery of tests, and nearly got me to go for some surgeries... before I came to my senses. God was calling that old bugger home, his number was up and that was that. The gals laid a guilt trip on me but put I put Sinker down. He was 17 or 18, he wasn’t eating anymore, was thin as a rail... and had no idea where he was. And they wanted to operate on him? They tried to the same when Joe came up on time, and he was in even worse shape than Sinker. I ended up taking him somewhere else. It’s ultimately my fault; but... I have trouble thinking straight when it comes to the end of the road with family I’ve had for decades. But...even so, what those ladies are doing is just plain sinful. It’s not good for the animal, it’s not good for the owners. There is more honour to be found in prostitution than what they are doing. Since then I used them for regular stuff and that’s it. They’re close, they had hours I could work with, but other than that... screw them.
I discussed my impending issue about Macey with King Peter and Queen Mary. They’d been through the same wringer I had and found a vet on the north end. I took Macey out to see him yesterday and she got a check up and some eye drops. The price tag was half of what my old vet charged. I’ve been dealing with those bitches for years. How much money have I flushed down the toilet?
It made sense though. There’s a lot of very wealthy grey hairs in my town, they are gullible and vulnerable and the local vets charge what the market will bear. And they play them like fiddles too - I’ve seen them do it. Perhaps we need to go back to burning witches again? Whatever - Macey’s new vet is actually an old pollack who doesn’t speak English that well. I’m deaf in one ear so I don’t listen that well - so it works out. We had to wrestle and subdue Macey to look at her cataract and she growled at us... but we did it. Out in the reception afterwards the receptionist chatted us up and Macey tried to shop lift a bag of cat food. She’s in good shape for a 98 year old, and when the time comes, we won’t have to worry about predatory veterinarians, at least. There may be no one worse than a crooked veterinarian... but there’s no one better than a straight and honest one.
Rest assured everyone: Captain Sweatpants And His Crime Fighting K9 Cohorts are still on the job! Challenge us at your peril, you evil doing senior delinquents!☠️
The rest a ya’s - have a good lawful and orderly Saturday! Stay warm out there. 😊👍