Next time, the vet appointment is for me

Strange mail has found me ... with

Relying on my usual experience with anything medical, I expected an additional invoice for what insurance didn't cover. Then it hit me: my insurance doesn't offer a feline plan. No plastic window in the envelope to portend more money going out the door.

I instead found a pleasant letter from the office manager of the vet clinic. Probably a form letter, but personal enough in tone that read it.
It didn't take me too long to winnow down one reason why: on the one-mile trip, I drove past four other animal hospitals.

But the letter itself told other stories, mainly about medical care. Pets get pampered. People get pummeled.

When was the last time a doctor took the time to right a personal response after a first visit? Or any visit?

Perhaps if employed by one of the pharm companies whose calendars, pens and other logo-covered junk litters every exam room. Otherwise, you're lucky if they stop in long enough to find out about your ailment

They don't have to care, really; payment is certain once you're in the door, because unless is downright awful, few eagerly switch their allegiances. The doctor's office became so impersonal and bureaucratic that people avoid it until their health demands treatment.

The exam room at the vet hospital, on the other hand, spotlighted a poster of several dozen cat breeds (I found out my cat's patterns closely resemble that of a Turkish van, also known as the swimming cat, also known as a perfect explanation for his love of water).

"American medical care: Pets before people." Ladies and gentlemen, we have a motto.