Clarification, or: down, blog-guests! Down!

Dear finslippy readers:

I have received several outraged emails and comments in response to our vet's thoughts regarding the high costs of medical expenses vs. one's love of one's pet.

Listen. Listen. I'm touched that you're all up in arms over my vet--it warms the cockles of my heart, truly. If I knew where those cockles were, I would poke them, and they would be all toasty, and I would say, ah, thank you, readers. But the thing is, when I quoted my vet, I was using a little device we in the Writing Biz like to call Making Shit Up. Otherwise known as Making Boring Shit Funnier.

If I had written what she had actually said, which was (before we had asked about price), "You know, these tests can really add up, so I'll get you all the prices and you can think about it," what fun would that have been? Instead, I visited the Unreliable Narrator who lives in a dank cubby within my brain, and she was muttering, "I know that friggin' vet really thinks we're cheap assholes who'd rather abandon our dog in Prospect Park than pay for one more test," and I decided to use her interpretation of the conversation, and--here we are.

However, she did just call us to say that the x-rays revealed no kidney stones BUT it showed an "abnormally small liver," whatever that indicates (isn't that good? I mean, considering how much he drinks) so now she wants some blood tests, and she kept saying, "You know, Charlie is six," as if we might as well start building his coffin today--get out the planks! where did I put those nails?--and I hate our vet a little now, so go ahead, badmouth her some more.

Comments

[Melissa]

My husband will read over my writing and say, 'Wait a minute...that's not what he said! Remember, he said, '[Insert boring sentence no one would care to read]'?'

This is why he does not have a blog nor is he a writer. Everything would be verbatim and boring and who the hell wants reality? I want to believe you have a vet who said you either love your pet or you don't.

I'm never going to stop believing that, what an asshole.

[jilbur]

In my hometown, there as an expression among the youth, and it wasn't "Wipe it out." It was "chewed," and it was employed as a wry reflection the experience of being exposed and mildly humiliated. "Gawd, when he asked her out to the prom right in front of me, I felt so chewed."

Twice in two days! Melisuburbanblissa had to remind us of her use of blogetic licence, too ...

Hmmm. maybe I oughta spice my own blog up with some of that there ly--er, comic exaggeration.

[Gene Yuss]

Letting your dog drink alcohol. Boy am I steamed.

Duh.

[Lorrie]

My dog went for a while to a vet that wanted to run zillions of tests on him. Every test cost the earth and was ominous. One test showed, yep, an abnormally small liver. Nicky is now 14 and going strong, well, except that nearly every organ in his body is defective. We found a new vet.

[flea]

Damn it! Gene Yuss beat me to the drunken dog comment first!

[Julia S]

Poor Charlie. Poor fellow, living with the crazy cheap-assed liars who can put a man on the man (the moon!) but can't move a little dog's little lipstick closer to the chops with any reliability.

No wonder he drinks.

****p.s. I love Alice! I wrote this!

{p.p.s. hahahahahahahaha! Ha! Hoooo! Ha. Heh. Hurrr.--Eds.}

[alice]

Julia? Are you okay?

[The Mighty Jimbo]

probably flunked out of med school.

[bluepoppy]

One, I remember reading some interview with Dave Barry where he said the craziest shit of all was that people (vast hordes of literally-minded people) would write him e-mails after his column taking him to task. Christ. Who are these numbnuts and why hasn't the New York elite started a charity ball for them? Two, vets schmets. My (former and total asshole) vet told me that my dog, Douce, had a weak heart and shouldn't be walked--when she was 6! Douce and I walked every day 3-4 miles and she lived til she was nearly 18. What, I'm not gonna walk my dog? And you want me to PAY you for that noise?

[Mrs. Kennedy's cryogenically f]

Vets. Either they want to put your pet chicken under that used MRI machine they just bought to see if her eggs are impacted, or they want to send your pet prairie dog to Orange County for a kidney transplant.

[corie]

this wouldn't be a certain 7th avenue vet...?

[Beth]

I should give you the number for my vet, but she is busy this week moving into the new house she bought thanks to all the tests she has run on my geriatric cats.

[Rita]

My mother, who has never understood my short stories (of course someone actually did that - all "fiction" had to come from something, right?), has now moved on to critiquing my blog. Yesterday she wrote to say, "I would really like to see a different photo of (little angel) on your Web site." I immediately fired back with the very mature "too bad, it's my blog."

And then I changed it this morning. Why don't family members understand poetic license?