Boyo wearing the Cone of Shame... Feel shame, Kao, feel shame...
If I'm lucky and win a massive lottery (or a massive stroke), I may find myself living in a van down by the river (cue Deliverance music). I was handed an estimate, not even a full bill, for what potentially could be a life-threatening situation for the Boyo. Was it pancreatitis? Poisoning? Consumption? None of the above. Two days and one night of puking (vomit and blood intermixed), two hours of sleep in between cleaning up random spots all over the house, a nervous ride to the vet and an estimate to end all estimates, and I checked Kao into the animal hospital not sure if I would see him again in his alive state.
There were blood tests, IVs, x-rays and an overnight stay. And a $900+ vet bill ('cause they never include the tax) only to discover that Boyo has not yet and probably never will outgrow his fetish... socks. Mine. And this time, it almost cost him his life.
He was so dehydrated from hurling, trying with all his might to get the trouser sock (no, it's not a code name) out of his gut and onto the floor. I was so tired from keeping my one eye open and one hand on the Swiffer Wet Jet to ensure the floors were quickly cleaned and he was out in the backyard to cool off. I was emotionally and fiscally drained. And while my emotions are now bordering on normal (I said bordering, people, I know my limitations!), my wallet is feeling it.
I keep telling the Boyo that while I spent only $300 in his initial purchase, he's now up to full price and he's got to start earning his keep. He's also got to make up for the socks and underwear he's eaten and purged to-date. And I don't care if I get them back.... he ate them, he pays for them 'cause I'm not touching those again without a set of tongs.