Come hither, where we will share ham treats and stories about the revolution.
Mini-lion has a heart murmur.
Or rather, this is what a veterenarian hypothosized after five minutes of listening to the stethoscope pressed against her fuzzy chest. Something sounded .... wrong.
Upon informing a co-worker of mini-lion's diagnosis, he blandly muttered, without lifting his head from his computer screen, "My friend has a heart murmur."
And so it is. Research reveals a heart murmur to be a general term, nontechnically meaning the heart makes an abnormal sound when it beats (assuming a normal heart speaks clearly like Obama, Alice's heart mumbles like me after the century club and a scotch). They can be quite harmless, a unique soundprint created by the heart while pushing blood through valves, affected by stress or exercise. Of course, heart murmurs can also be mortal, caused by a heart valve that fails to properly close, or a hole in the heart. For both humans and furry cats, they rate the severity of heart murmurs on a scale of 1 to 6. 1 means no problem. 6 means you should definitely have a will. We won't know mini-lion's rating until her heart is examined via an echocardiogram by a cat heart specialist (not sure why they don't just do a CAT scan .. wait for it ... wait for it ...).
In the case of a human, a heart specialist costs several thousand dollars. In the case of a kitten, that specialist costs eight-hundred dollars. Apparently, being a member of the feline family gets you a 60% discount.
Unfortunately, mini-lion has not yet joined the working world (i give her a pass because of the fallen economy), so her financial contributions to this test are limited. And, though mini-lion has become a cherished part of my life, eight hundred dollars to x-ray her heart seems a bit much.
The problem is, there is no real solution. In humans (which society has deemed more important than kittens), serious heart murmurs can be treated with medication, surgery, or catheterization. These treatments are theoretically possible for kittens, but are financially unrealistic. I'm not quite ready to pay ten thousand dollars to have a pacemaker installed upon mini-lions heart.
We've been forced to confront the question: what is a life worth? For humans, the answer is easy. You spend money until there is no more money to spend. For kittens? There's a finite number. We just haven't determined what it is. Somewhere in the thousands, it seems. So you have to quantify the importance of the test.
Over 25% of kittens have a heart murmur. For many, it disappears within a year or two. For others, it requires monitoring and minor lifestyle adjustments. For some, it will result in a "major heart episode". In any instance, there isn't much you can do. So, we are paying eight-hundred dollars to diagnose a problem that we can do nothing about. Bad heart or good heart, mini-lion needs to be spayed. If she isn't spayed, she'll begin spraying urine on our couches, walls, and faces. Then, she'll begin to hump our shoes and and Swiffers. Next, she'll begin looking at me in an alluring way that will make me thoroughly uncomfortable. As a final performance, she'll begin moaning and meowing like someone is pulling a uekalele string across a toilet bowl for weeks on end.
Of course, as part of a system of professionals that looks out for one another's financial well-being, our veterenarian will not spay our kitten until we get mini-lion a heart echocardiogram. Putting a small animal with a defective heart under anesthesia is a major risk, a risk that most veterenarians are unwilling to take.
So we have to get her heart checked out. We found a place that did it for $400. We also found that some veterenarians will do the spay without first determining the health of the heart, but they also make you sign a waiver acknowledging your understanding that the kitten may never wake up from surgery. The problem is, even if her heart is bad, we'd have to attempt the spay anyway, or give her away. It is impossible to live with a unspayed cat. But still, not waking up from surgery?
Mini-lion is part of our family. Every night I come home, she is sitting at the door, staring up at me inquisitively, hoping that I am brought home a fresh Alaskan salmon or dead bird. She sleeps with us, eats with us, and watches the Phoenix Suns lose with us. I would be deeply affected if she left.
Can we risk that, mini-lion?
huh?
We have to. Whatever the result of the echocardiogram, mini-lion will have to be spayed. Good heart, bad heart, it will be the same result. So paying to find out information that will result in the same decision is useless.
Mini-lion asks for your prayers.