Yesterday, I booked a vet appointment for my cat. The appointment was for today. My very elderly and very blind cat has been stumbling around the house lately (not unusual, though she’s typically more surefooted), but in the last few days, has become very lethargic (very unusual). Concerned about her, I called the vet’s office, and booked an appointment for an exam.
So, today, I arrive for the vet appointment. I call from the parking lot, as per their Covid restrictions–I’ve done this before; basically, you call, they take your pet at the door, and you wait in your car, until it’s time to settle the tab at curbside, and reclaim your pet. Only today, the receptionist invited me in, and ushered me to an exam room. Okay, it beats waiting in a car in the parking lot, especially given our weather: -25C/-13F. Probably why they invited me in, right?
The exam room table has a comfy-looking blanket, and the lights are dimmed. Fine, I suppose; my elderly cat will be more comfortable on the blanket than on a cold stainless steel table for the exam, and she’s blind, so the lights don’t matter to her. Then the receptionist says, “Now we have a few decisions to make. Will you be desiring a private cremation?”
What the hell? I noticed the display of cremation urns, scattering boxes, and clay pawprints on the counter by the sink. “Um … did you think I came for my cat to be euthanized?”
“That’s not why you’re here?”
“No,” I said. “I just want an exam. She’s old, but she’s fine, and I’d like the vet to examine her so I can understand if there’s anything I can do to make her life more comfortable, given her age and her disability.”
“Ooops …” the receptionist said, and disappeared. The vet tech came in shortly, apologized profusely for any misunderstanding, turned on the overhead fluorescent lights, and set about weighing my cat and getting her vitals. Then the vet came in, also apologizing profusely. I told both not to worry, and joked that I was glad that things didn’t go too far.
In the end, the vet gave my cat a professional exam, found a few things that treatments could alleviate, and my cat came home with a couple of prescriptions. She is now happily napping in front of the fireplace.
But holy hannah! How did the receptionist interpret “I want to bring my cat in for an exam” on the phone, to “I want to have my cat euthanized”? I’m pretty sure that she will be spoken to about that. The bright side is that the vet himself was glad that I only wanted an exam–I’ve had to attend at my cats’ euthanizations before, and it is subtly apparent that he hates doing them, unless absolutely necessary to prevent further suffering. Plus, for the first time in two years, I actually got to attend my cat with the vet in the clinic, and I didn’t have to sit in the parking lot, waiting for a call from the vet.