Our Very Expensive Day

$600 for new brakes. Why so much? Because the dillhole who “looked” at them in March was a liar. “Oh no, you don’t need new brakes, you have 50% life left on the pads.”

Um, yeah.

So from March to now the front brakes wore down so far that there was no pad left and the drums were ruined. Sure.

Then we took Hank to the vet.

Like any sick toddler will do, we got him there and he perked up. His eyes were a little brighter, he didn’t breath like he was gurgling water, and he didn’t make a fuss as he was poked and prodded and stretched in impossible directions. He did wage a quiet protest when the vet shoved a catheter up his winky for urine collection. But he can hardly be blamed for that.

The physical didn’t cough up anything that would immediately point to what could be wrong. Hank is hypothyroid, and based on the symptoms, his medication dose might need to be adjusted upwards. The vet also drew lots of blood (and quite easily from a dog whose jugular is not where it’s supposed to be) so we should have the results of that back on Wednesday.

What was most obvious was that at no point did the vet suggest that Hank might be past his prime and wandering into that “maybe it’s time” territory. His attitude was more like “here’s a problem, let’s figure out the cause and fix it.”

So here’s to hoping he can figure it out.
Without bankrupting us.

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