The Boston Globe
October 30, 2005

THE PRICE WE PAY FOR PETS WE LOVE

By Bella English

Six of us women were having dinner in a nice Dedham restaurant
recently when the conversation turned to our pets. Among us, we had
seven dogs and tens of thousands of dollars in recent vet bills. By
the time we finished talking, I had ordered the cheapest thing on the
menu.

My family had recently taken Tucker (the Wonder Dog) for his annual
physical. The vet informed us that because Tucker is now considered a
"mature dog" at age 7, he would need additional tests. With his
thyroid condition he gets a pill in a piece of cheese every morning
more blood work was needed. A little bump under his skin resulted in a
biopsy. Then there were stool samples and vaccinations. Total bill:
$500. I was supposed to take him back for a follow- up, but I haven't
yet found a second job.

Just for walking through the front door of the veterinarian's office,
you give up your weekly grocery money. If the doctor orders a test or
two, you can kiss your hard-saved Christmas stash goodbye. It's enough
to make you sick... as a dog.

Four years ago, we racked up $3,000 to get Tucker's leg fixed. He had
injured it while hiking with us our first day of vacation. At Angell
Memorial, they fixed him up and sent him home with hot-pink bandages,
which had to be changed several times in the following month. Tucker
limped around the house, while I limped to the bank.

You should know that I adore my dog. He's the only one who wags his
butt when I walk through the door. He's the one who lies next to me
when I'm sick, his head on my chest. He's the one trotting along next
to me when I jog. He has taught the entire family important lessons
about unconditional love, and about the proper use of pooper scoopers.
I believe we are better humans because of Tucker. You know that
saying: Be the person your dog thinks you are.

My friend Maureen Ghu blikian, who lives in Milton, loves her dog,
too. Dearly, very very dearly. Since she bought her West Highland
terrier, Rosie, two years ago, her vet bills have climbed to
$7,288.29. Two days after Rosie arrived at the Ghublikian home in July
2003, she was in the vet's office for irritable bowel syndrome. That
cost $300. Before the year was over, the bills for this or that
condition totaled more than two grand.

The next year was better: only $1,250.

But 2005 outdid itself: $4,008.78. To date.

"She has a folder 2 inches thick at the vet's," says Maureen. This
summer, Rosie began having seizures. Her local vet recommended that
Rosie see a specialist. That very day, Maureen took Rosie to Woburn
for an emergency appointment. The doggy neurologist told Maureen that
he would need to do an MRI to check for a tumor, a spinal tap to check
for infections, and a series of blood tests to check for diseases such
as Rocky Mountain spotted fever and encephalitis. Naturally, Rosie
would need to stay at least overnight and be put under general
anesthesia.

The vet gave Maureen an estimate of $2,300 and told her she'd have to
pay 70 percent of it then and there, before he'd proceed. Like Rosie,
Maureen nearly had a seizure. But what are you going to do? She called
her husband to see if they had enough in checking to cover the fee.

When she went back to fetch Rosie, she was given a bill and a handful
of prescriptions. Here's how the tab broke down, in part: $500 for
blood work, $460 for an MRI, and another $500 for MRI "interpretation"
in other words, to read the MRI. The "neuro visit" alone was $150.
Something called "monitoring/30 minutes" was $216.38. The spinal tap
was $194.80. IV fluids and catheters cost $86.25. And so on, and on,
and on.

Naturally, she and her husband, Jack and their children were relieved
to have their beloved pet back home. But huge bills when you have
three children to feed, including one in college, are hard to stomach.
The Ghublikian health insurance plan, for five of them, costs $2,400 a
year. Rosie's medical bills so far this year are almost double that.

"We could have sent her back after her initial sickness and picked out
another dog... great lesson for kids; dog gets sick, toss her out. Not
to mention we were already in love with her," says Maureen.

Americans are crazy about their pets, but fewer than 1 percent of us
have health insurance for them. It's not surprising, considering that
nearly 40 million of us lack insurance for ourselves. According to the
American Veterinary Medical Association, Americans spent $19 billion
for pet healthcare in 2001. Such procedures nowadays include
pacemakers and organ transplants.

Another friend at the dinner table that night, Susanna Place, recently
spent $385 for her German shepherd's itchy stomach. "Lightning had a
special shampoo, a special diet; they had to shave her stomach and
wash it with antibiotics," says Susanna. When she asked the vet what
poor people do when faced with bills, he told her that people don't
realize that veterinary medicine is as sophisticated as human
medicine.

That's true. Just ask my friend Sheila Fiekowsky, whose soft-coated
Wheaton terrier is on Prozac. Bocci was scratching and biting himself
raw. The allergy medicine didn't work. The vet put one of those head-
cone contraptions on him for a year to keep him from aggravating the
area. Sheila had to give her dog allergy shots, which didn't work.
Hundreds of dollars later, she switched vets. Steroids didn't work,
either. So finally, she asked about Prozac. Eureka! Bocci gets a pill
every morning and special shampoo every evening. He's just fine now.

I was at Angell Memorial, the Cadillac of animal hospitals, once with
Tucker when two young men brought in a large injured bird. They
carried the bird into the admitting area and explained that they had
found it in the Blue Hills in Milton. It was obvious they felt good
about their rescue mission. Until the admitting clerk asked them for a
credit card. The two men ran as if Cujo was chasing them. I never did
find out what happened to the bird.

My brother's basset hound recently died. It cost him nearly $900. The
itemized bill shows charges for IV fluids ($140), IV catheter ($18),
and "setting the IV" ($18). There was another $18 charge for bandaging
the needle in place. The needles themselves? Another four bucks.

Don't get me wrong. My friends and I like our vets. We depend on them,
just as we depend on our pediatricians. And how can you possibly
quantify what your pet means to you? To refuse that MRI or blood work
might mean sentencing your dog to death, and the vets know that you
know it.

The other day, Maureen had to take Rosie in again, this time for the
shakes. For $300, she learned that Rosie was dehydrated.

"That's it," says Maureen. "She shakes again, she's dying in my arms."

She's kidding, of course.

Bella English writes from Milton. She can be reached at 617-929-8770
or via e-mail at english@globe.com.