The Cost of Compassion

How much is too much?

by ALICIA PRIEST

How much is your cat worth? Not a cat but your cat. Cats and dogs, as we all know, are a dime a dozen.

But as any pet owner knows, their own cat/dog is not an easily replaceable commodity, no matter how many other members of the species abound. It’s funny how that happens. Once you get to know an animal (and I’m including horses, birds, pigs, and any other creature you care to name) and incorporate it into your family, it reveals a distinct personality and becomes—God forbid—an individual. Animals are rather like people: off-putting in large numbers, but surprisingly endearing once you get to know them individually.

This is all by way of exploring the delicate issue of the cost of compassion—also known as the cost of veterinary care. It’s something our family is currently experiencing in a major way. About a year ago, Stretch, our nine-year-old cat, encountered a raccoon or tomcat or other aggressor and suffered several nasty wounds to his nether regions. After three unsuccessful attempts at treating the injuries with antibiotics, we were at our wit’s end. His wounds continued to fester and drain. For one dark day, we decided to put him down, only to change our minds the following morning. We finally succumbed to surgery.

Or, rather, Stretch succumbed to not one but two surgeries in the space of one week. The result was not pretty and it’s not over. Because cats, unlike humans, heal from the inside out, his full recovery demands months of something his vet calls “open-wound management.” I won’t go into details except to say I’ve resurrected my former nursing skills. What’s really at stake here, however, are the vet bills—we’re at $2,700 and counting.

Outrageous? There’s no doubt, veterinary care costs big time. Vets are highly trained doctors and the competition to get into Canada’s four accredited veterinary schools is stiffer than the contest for medical school. As well, vets, like medical doctors, have to keep abreast of constantly changing developments in animal science by reading journals, attending professional conferences, and continuing to take courses. So, as professionals, they deserve to be fairly compensated for their services. As self-employed business people, they also pay for equipping and running their clinics and hospitals.

The main reason why veterinary care seems so pricey is that, as a society, we have no clue what we dole out for human health care. In 2005, Canada spent $142 billion on caring for ill and injured humans—up almost 200 per cent from 1975. According to Health Care in Canada, a report by the Canadian Institute for Health Information, that works out to $4,411 in that year for every man, woman, and child in the country. Considering the waste inherent in the system, that’s really outrageous. Yet, because 70 per cent of those dollars are paid for by our federal and provincial taxes, they take on an air of invisibility. More than 35 cents of every tax dollar goes toward maintaining the hospitals, drugs, equipment, doctors, administrators, and other personnel that encompass human health care.

That situation goes a long way to explain the horror that registers on many of our friends’ faces when we reveal our current vet bill. Many people, it appears, find spending that kind of money on a pet simply unacceptable. After all, they say, it’s just a cat; you can always get another and, by the way, “children are starving in Africa.” I call these folks people-firsters—those who believe human needs and wants, particularly theirs, take precedent over other living beings.

The truth is that people make all kinds of morally ambiguous choices with their money. And it says something about us, as a society, that we so freely fork out hundreds of thousands of dollars for things such as plasma TVs, luxury vehicles, state-of-the-art home furnishings, vanity cosmetics, exotic vacations, and gourmet meals and yet squirm at the prospect of putting out for pets. Of course, some pet-owners spare no penny. The rise in sophisticated veterinary specialties attests to how far some will go. More often than not, however, their decisions are mocked by others and the money they spend viewed as wasted and wasteful because “after all, children are dying in Africa.” That argument doesn’t wash with me. While I’m thankful I have the choice of euthanasia for my pet, I’m also thankful there is an increasing role for medicine to play in trying to extend the life of my animal friend. v

Alicia Priest is a Victoria-based freelance writer and former registered nurse who is learning that cats are very like humans in some ways and very unlike humans in others.

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