A Perth pet hospital nearly sent me broke. But the alternative was worse

3 months ago 18

When our cat Salem began coughing, spluttering and gagging like a two-pack-a-day chain smoker, we took him to the vet, expecting he’d just need antibiotics.

Just two days later, our beloved moggie ended up in an emergency animal clinic after his health had dramatically declined.

It was frightening – and financially crippling.

The stress was amplified when a young nurse covered in dog hair and snot said our final bill would be just under $3000 (we had already paid $1000 at our local vet).

I openly admit I paused before tapping my credit card, contemplating whether to ask if any jobs were going milking the anal glands of dogs to help with the payment.

Considering the pet hospital’s luxurious atmosphere, featuring handcrafted jarrah furniture, a sign above the fridge offering “free bottled water” and what looked like aged Ecuadorian To’ak chocolates, I doubt they were accustomed to clients wincing and weeping when settling an account.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fond of our feline friend, despite the protruding teeth from his wonky jaw constantly reminding me of smiling serial killer Ted Bundy.

So my partner and I had been abruptly confronted with a philosophical and moral dilemma: how much would we be willing to pay to save our pet’s life? Could we put a price tag on our treasured tabby?

Discussing it, we reluctantly settled on a figure only a few thousand more than we had already paid for Salem.

Before you hurl fur balls at me, a recent survey by comparison website Finder found that, on average, Aussies would fork out around $6200 to save their furry friends from the “green dream”.

An impressive 8 per cent would spend more than $10,000 to prevent their pet from being euthanised.

At the other end of the scale, 6 per cent of people wouldn’t cough up a cent to stop their pooch or mouser going to animal heaven.

However, before we rapidly point the finger at those miserly mutt and moggie-owners, there are undoubtedly moments when cash-strapped animal-lovers can’t afford to splash out weeks’ worth of wages to save their pet.

I didn’t have to subject myself to clinical trials for fast cash because our tax returns had just popped into our bank accounts.

But with thousands of Australians drowning in the cost-of-living crisis, having to euthanise your pet because you couldn’t afford the bill would be devastating.

As a lapsed Catholic, I’m well-versed in guilt, but if I had lacked the coin to save my cat, I would have fallen into a self-condemnation that even the patron saint of suffering, Saint Dymphna, would find impossible to endure.

There are quick-access loan schemes, but the exorbitant interest rates and fees mean you’ll still be in debt long after Rover and Ruby Tuesday have crossed the rainbow bridge.

Consumer watchdog CHOICE has previously slammed such schemes for “enticing pet owners into unaffordable debt”.

“A beloved pet’s illness can be one of the most stressful times in a person’s life,” says CHOICE’s Head of Policy, Patrick Veyret.

“Lenders … should not be profiting from people’s anxieties about their pets.”

Like many of these modern-day lay-by schemes, the scheme preys on the most vulnerable.

I wouldn’t have flinched or even read the fine print when signing up for a pay-later service to keep Salem alive.

There will be widespread disagreements about spending money to save or prolong pets’ lives. However, I agree with American philosopher and animal rights activist Jeff Sebo that we must remember that our furry friends are significant beings that belong to our moral community.

Sebo’s The Moral Circle argues humans will prioritise themselves at the expense of many other beings and while our household animal companions might demand some of our attention, we don’t always accord equal value to all animals.

Sebo addresses some challenging ethical questions about the extent to which we should expand our moral circle, discussing everything from insects to AI.

Whatever monetary misgivings I had about Salem instantly evaporated the moment he staggered onto my lap, while projecting phlegm onto my jumper.

There is no doubt that he is firmly entrenched in my moral circle.

At the time of writing, our other cat, Sabrina, has begun exhibiting the same symptoms as Salem. We will inevitably end up back at the vet.

Those YouTube tutorials on dog milking could pay off after all.

Ultimately, when it comes to our pets, most of us are willing to endure any hardship or expense — so long as they are still there to leap onto our laps, mucus and all.

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