Pet Care

All my life I've lived under the "It's just a cat" philosophy of pet ownership. Basically, I believe that while we respect our pets and treat them kindly, they're not people. They don't eat at the table, wear clothes, or get Christmas presents. And they certainly don't receive the same health care that, say, a child should. I've laughed at people who take their doggies in for psychological counseling, and shaken my head in disbelief over people who spend thousands of dollars for chemotherapy, major surgery, or other treatments for terminal illnesses. "It's just a pet," I'd say.

But I'm finding that philosophy challenged as I'm forced to put an actual price on the care of my own cat. Over a month ago, Daisy, our cat, was attacked by either a large stray or a raccoon. She favored her left front paw and we could see a couple of small cuts on it. We tried to keep her paw clean and, since we had some antibiotics left over from a previous visit to the vet, we gave them to her. After a month of her not getting better, we finally decided that we needed to take her to the vet when she started bleeding. Two visits and about $400 later, we discovered that the lacerations on her paw were the least of her injuries. She had a deep cut about an inch long on her left front foreleg and several nasty puncture wounds on her left shoulder. The vet cleaned and opened the wounds to allow them to drain, and told us how to keep them clean.

A week later we took her back to the vet for another round of antibiotics and painkillers and another inspection. And another $200. This time, they discovered another small injury to her right hind leg. The vet took blood and tested for kitty HIV and Leukemia. Two conditions for which, I'd still like to THINK, I would opt to put Daisy down rather than have her treated. At that visit, the vet scheduled a follow-up for Friday. Thursday night, as we cleaned her wounds, one of the holes in her left shoulder started bleeding. Prodigious bleeding. Thick, goopy, Jell-O like bleeding. We didn't clean her the next morning, so the vet could see what had happened. He stapled and stitched and put in a shunt to help the shoulder wounds drain. And sold us a stronger antibiotic and pain killers. Cost: $327.

Since then, Daisy has twice torn the staples by jumping up on beds, chairs, or countertops. The first time, it cost us $190 (this not six hours after we'd paid $75 for more antibiotics. Turns that our neighbors, whose cat was also mauled by the same animal, is also having trouble throwing off the infection), and the second time the vet took pity on us and didn't charge us. Not even for the anesthesia.

So, all told, we've spent over $1,000 on our just-a-cat, and she's nowhere near recovered. At one point my wife mentioned, "in theory, I guess I could just not go pick her up. But that seems wrong." And I agree. I still don't value Daisy's life as highly as I would a person's – but I can't see myself NOT paying for her treatment, either. And I wonder if there will come a point when I CAN say, "That's it, we just can't afford to deal with this any more," or whether, like all the pet fanatics I used to mock, I'm committed for the long haul.

Comments on NC Primaries, Recession, and Gas Tax.

Political post this time - sorry all. Yesterday was the first political primary in North Carolina in more than a decade where the state's vote actually mattered. That was pretty cool and I voted. We also had several bonds on the ballot to cover new and improved schools, among other things. Despite the recessionary feeling in the air (or pocketbook) I voted for all the bonds, because I think Greensboro needs to stop acting like a small town.

Speaking of recession. Does anyone else remember in the early 2000's when the Bush Administration blamed the recession on the outgoing Clinton administration?

Finally, thoughts on the gas tax. McCain and Clinton are both advocating a gas tax holiday this summer. I'm letting my elected leaders know I don't agree with the holiday. I saw a political cartoon this morning in which the big oil companies had been planning to raise prices by exactly that much, any way. And from what I remember of basic economics, once prices go down, people are going to buy more - especially if they know prices are going back up in a couple months time. But if demand increases, it's likely prices will increase, too (see reference to political cartoon). Except now, none of that money is going toward fixing the potholes or bridges. It's fattening the bottom line of the oil companies - who we all know have the public's best interest at heart.

A lot of my reasoning comes from this blog. There's also a link on the site to a petition against the gas tax holiday. I signed it.

More Dates and Mutations!

In his comment to my dates post, Rick said, "Since you are answering questions...why is it the plural of louse is lice but the plural of house is not hice? or one that really baffles me, if fungi is the plural of fungus, is a fun guy someone you should stay away from?"

I have an answer for the louse - lice question. Ready for your eyes to glaze over? Long time ago when people weren't speaking English, or even Old English, there was a language called Proto-Germanic, which is supposedly an ancester of English and lots of Germanic languages. Certain nouns were pluralized by adding -iz to the end. Louse, mouse, man, feet, and others all fell into this class. As things evolved, people got lazy with their speaking (glad that's not true anymore!) and as they slurred sylables together, the words gradually underwent what's called an i-mutation, which basically means the word changed to fit the way people were saying it. House didn't go through this mutation, but kept the modern English version of the -iz ending.

As to the second - well, that baffles me, too. There are so many varieties of fun guy out there, and some probably more toxic than others.

Dates

I enjoy asking, "Why?" And some of the most interesting "why" questions I've come up with revolve around dates. For example, last spring I was observing my children's Sunday school class when one of the other kids asked the leader, "Why do they call it Easter?" The leader wasn't sure, but because we had asked the same question in our house a few days earlier, I was able to whisper to him that the holiday was named after Eostre, a West Germanic pagan goddess - probably of fertility since she was worshipped at the spring equinox. She's an interesting namesake for one of Christianity's most important holidays.

Last month, it occurred to me that I didn't really know why we celebrated New Year's Day on January 1st. And the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. I could understand the New Year beginning at the spring equinox, when winter is officially over, and trees and flowers are blooming with new life. I could also understand the New Year beginning at the winter solstice, when we have passed through the longest night of the year, and the days begin to lengthen again. But our New Year begins about two weeks after the solstice. Why? The first of the year is a big day - arguably one of the most important days of the year, since all other dates are built around it. What event was so important to our ancestors that it was worth beginning the year on that day?

Well, it turns out that the New Year's Day doesn't commemorate anything that we would consider particularly significant. It doesn't mark the rebirth of the sun, or the coming of spring. It doesn't coincide with planting or harvest festivals. It has no religious significance. But at one time, the date that is now January 1st has some political significance in Ancient Rome.

In Rome, the New Year began on what is now March 15th (The Ides of March for those of you who remember your High School Shakespeare) which, not coincidentally, was on or near the spring equinox (about the same time the Germanic Tribes were celebrating Eostre). Roman Consuls, the Republic's highest elected civil and military leaders, were chosen on what is now January 1st, and were honored by being allowed to associate their name with the year in which they ruled. Apparently, by 153 BC this tradition had become so important, that the date of their election became the new year's day for the Roman calendar, and was later made a formal part of the Gregorian Calendar that we use today.

So there you go - every year on January 1st, we celebrate a new year and commemorate the date on which Rome's highest elected officials were chosen. I suppose that if we were to give similar meaning to our New Year's Day, we would move January 1st to fall on Election Day.

Writing Workshop

Yesterday I had a chance to teach some writing skills to seven foster kids in a workshop presented by Foster Friends of North Carolina, thanks to an invitation by friend and writer, Dena Harris. We spent part of the time walking them through some writing exercises and the rest of the time teaching specific writing techniques and philosophy.

For example, we played telephone, compared essay writing to baseball, made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to illustrate the importance of being precise and specific, and got them thinking and writing about themselves. If you'd like to know more about what PB&J has to do with precise language, Dena has a great write-up on the event on her blog, which I think you should check out.

We had a great time, and I hope they let me do it again next year.

Economic Stimulus Package

Congress is working on giving away some money so we can all spend it and hopefully avoid a recession. And, although we'd really like to save the money, the Shirley House is working on an economic stimulus package of our own.

We plan to start by hiring someone to put on a space suit and remove all the asbestos tape that completely wraps our heating ducts. (Estimated cost - in the thousands of dollars). Why not just encapsulate it with fiberglass insulation? For one, we're staving off a recession, remember? And two, well, hang tight. There's more.

Next, we will replace our furnace which, although it's only ten years old, was manufactured by now bankrupt Consolidated Industries (fortunately, our furnace isn't an attic model!), has no available replacement parts, and, because of moisture from a cracked ventilation pipe, has rusted through the bottom.

The heating and A/C unit are apparently put together oddly. The A/C unit is off to the side instead of directly below, with exposed wires draped over a pipe, and a gas line that's been installed in the wrong place. Replacing the furnace and A/C will mean completely reinstalling the duct system, because the new A/C unit will be where it's supposed to be. Reinstalling the duct system will require removing the asbestos. That's right. We can't fix the furnace without the space suits (estimated cost $9,000 - that's for the furnace system, not the space suits).

Finally, before our car gets inspected next year, we're going to have to replace the catalytic converter (estimated cost $850).

So, there it is. Our hope is that we will singlehandedly be able to turn the economy around, at least the local economy, by pumping thousands of dollars into the heating and air conditioning and auto repair industries. Let us know if you notice a difference.

Where's the wisdom in THAT?

A year or so ago the dentist found a cavity on my one wisdom tooth that's actually broken through the gum. Rather than fill the hole, I decided to have the tooth pulled. Boy, that was a brilliant plan! So yesterday afternoon I paid said dentist to stick a very large needle in my gums three (count them! 3!) times and yank out the tooth with a pair of Industrial Strength Professional Dentisty-Looking Pliers.

"You'll feel a little pressure," he said before clamping the ISPD-LPs. Yeah, there was pressure. No, technically, it didn't exactly hurt. But someone please explain to me how excruciating pressure is better, somehow, than excruciating pain.

Ten minutes later, I got to go home, biting down on a bloody piece of moisture absorbent gauze. They gave me a package of twenty or thirty more for my bleeding pleasure. I only used one before it wasn't really fun anymore.

Today, the cavern in my mouth doesn't really hurt quite like I thought it would. I can still feel the pressure, almost like an amputee's ghost limb, where the tooth used to be, and for most of the morning the muscles in my jaw and neck were tight and sore. Now, realize, when I say it doesn't hurt like I thought it would - that's not a statement of quantity, it's a statement of quality. It hurts plenty, just not in the sharp, focused way I'd imagined.

Still, I guess I have learned something. (Here's the "wisdom" tie-in) I've wished to have my wisdom teeth (all four of them) pulled for years, and I was a little disappointed last year when the doctor explained that my other three couldn't come out because they're so brilliantly impacted (and so conveniently close to this big, important nerve in my jaw that, should it be accidentally severed as the dentist dug the teeth out, a significant portion of my face would lose all feeling). But now I'm very happy to have them, and may they lead a long, quiet, uneventful existence back there.

I'm also brushing my teeth longer. Our kids have these tooth brushes that blink until you've brushed long enough, and I've started using those. Just kidding. I've still using my own brush. Two to three minutes, every time you brush.