What a weird weekend. Eric stayed home with Vi while I went to my first production meeting for Macbeth. When I came home, the cat was on the stairs, and was startled into convulsions when I opened the door. She was on the stairs, and she fell all the way down to the tile, still stiffly rolling around. It happened two more times that afternoon. I took her to the emergency vet clinic and was charged $90 just to look at her. They wrote me up an estimate of the cost of bloodwork, urnialysis, possible prescriptions… I cried. In front of the nurse. I ended up taking the cat home without any testing at all. She’s been living almost exclusively in the box spring of our bed.
I feel like a rotten pet owner because we just haven’t kept up on her shots or anything. I wasn’t crying at the doctor’s office because I was worried about our cat…I was crying because I was concerned about our wallet. I didn’t want to admit to the nurse that my cat wasn’t worth the cost of the tests to find out what’s wrong with her. And yet here she is, curled up in our box spring, rarely coming out to eat. If she gets worse, do we just take her to the vet to be put down? I feel extra rotten saying, “Well I dont want to spend hundreds of dollars to test her, so lets just kill her.”
I don’t know what happens next.