Meowser Madness.

Achilles and Lizzie through the dirty glass.
We took Little Shit (aka Achilles) to his third vet visit on Friday.  The hubs finished work early enough to be able to join me.  I don't know if I wrote about the second visit, but it was a snafu:

It was just me and they took the meowser to the back to examine him and get his stats.  I don't particularly appreciate that they take the pets away for examinations - neither of the practices that I worked at did this unless we were simultaneously inserting catheters or hooking up to the EKG - but whatever.  I could understand better draws and stuff, but just temps, CRTs and a physical?

They still have him in the back and the vet, who is a fill-in vet for Thursdays, so the rDVM can perform surgeries, comes in to let me know that they are running the fecal sample.  Er, what?  She apologized and left the room, only to come back in a few minutes later to let me know that they were actually running the heartworm test.  On my cat?  I mean.. cats can get heartworms, but it's not something they routinely test for and isn't easy to diagnosis.  So, point is:  they sure as shit shouldn't be running a test like that on my cat without having had a lengthy client-educating conversation.

Which means that the vet has no fucking clue who my pet is, but came into my room anyways.  Twice.

I was texting D throughout all of this, because Achilles is "his" cat, and he told me to leave.  I didn't.  When the vet finally clued in as to who she was talking to, she apologized profusely and explained that they had just PTS'd a 16 year old Husky.  That's not information that I need.  I can appreciate the emotional investment she has in that patient, but if she can't flip the mental switch between rooms, she ought to have taken a few minutes of personal time to collect herself.  Wipe your eyes and get your game face back on because there are other patients to see.  Store it up and save it for later.

The third fuck up was the prednisone, which she scripted for appetite and anemia.  The only problem was that she didn't give me tapering instructions.  I showed her the bottle and asked about tapering and then she realized that she didn't give me enough to taper properly, nor any instructions.  So I got charged for more pred.  When I was checking out from this second visit, I discreetly told the receptionist that I had concerns.  The primary vet called me back the next day to address them, to apologize, and to actually change the tapering instructions left by the other vet.

Not impressed.
So on the visit Friday, we saw the primary vet.  She apologized again, told us that Achilles looked great, and offered me a job.

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  1. Yes, concerns I would have too.

  2. A job, eh? Go show them how to be more with it! lol Granted, that does sound like a sad stressful day, so I suppose I do understand.

  3. Eeek! Good thing you know what is going on...

    Offered you a job, thats awesome!

  4. Ooo job? That first vet sounds crazo.

  5. Are you taking this job?

    And this would concern me (the vet, not the job). We put our animals' lives in their hands. If this was a human in a hospital, this would be unacceptable.