Jaspers Heart

The day he came into our lives, we greeted him as if he were not a cat but a family member. Jasper came to us as a kitten who needed a home, which we gave him. He seemed to be a normal healthy kitten the day we brought him home. What we did not know what that within the first year, he would be fighting for his life, and we would be fighting to save it.

It was a typical day for all of us; my husband had gone to work, and I, as always, was home caring for the rescues in our lives. Some were older, some just babies, others a variety of breeds, and those like Jasper were supposedly the perfect cat bred for perfection with bloodlines that could not be denied. I never looked at anyone of the rescues as any of the above, but all just unconditional souls with more love to give than I could take in some days, all simply needing help. There was never a moment when one of them was not greeting me with a message for the day. Messages that I had learned to understand and interpret because my heart was as open and unconditional as theirs.

As I walked over to greet everyone this morning, Jasper did not seem to be himself. I bent down to give him a gentle touch, and he greeted me with a big morning stretch and his usual high five; so with that, I thought he just decided to start his day later than usual and went on to care for everyone as I usually would.

Their area was always a wonderful place to go in the morning. A vast indoor area with windows led to another large outdoor area, all enclosed with a safety that allowed them to engage with nature safely. Bluebee, an elderly Siamese mix, was patiently waiting for her morning breakfast and greeting, sitting in the sun-filled window watching the road runners searching for their morning meals in the sandy desert, all the while giving Currie her little sister all of about six months old a bat on the head as she ran past swiftly trying to get to the roadrunner's meal before it did all while knowing that there was a safety barrier between her and the real dangers of the desert but still happy to give it a try. Whenever I looked at them, I could never imagine why someone abandoned them.

I will never grow tired of the joy that these rescues bring into my life, even though along with it often comes heartache. The day passed, and the warm afternoon sun was warming the terra cotta-stained concrete floor jasper was lying relaxed and purring; he quickly got up to eat his meal for the morning so, which gave me some reassurance that he was okay, but with a move coming up in a couple of weeks across the united states, I thought it might be a good idea to have a routine checkup because my intuition was telling me that I should so I called and made the appointment for that afternoon.

It was a beautiful drive that afternoon, about an hour to the vet visit for Jasper. The desert sun was setting, and the skies were a beautiful azure color. Jasper was enjoying the ride and relaxing. I did not know that this evening I would be put on a path to remind me of why I had spent my entire life helping homeless animals and why I never regretted putting their needs before mine many times throughout my life.

We arrived at the vet's office, and Jasper got into what we called his rolling house on wheels. He was escorted into the vet by my husband as I followed. When he got inside, everyone greeted him, and he obliged with his customary high five and head butt.

It was not long before we were waiting in the exam room for the vet. When she walked in, I explained to her that Jasper was not himself and that I had noticed a very slight yellowish tinge to his inner ears and his eyes, and having cared for these waifs for so many years, and I recognized many little things that might be a sign of not being well. She immediately agreed and suggested blood work because we would be on the road. This way, we would know if any underlying issues were going on. She asked if he had been eating and drinking normally, and we told her that he had and that as crazy as it sounded, it was just a feeling that I had gotten when he looked at me that morning.

It seemed like forever waiting for the results of the blood work. I had walked in and out of the exam room several times to stretch my legs, and each time I would, someone would be checking in or out of the office. You could not help but overhear the conversations, some good, some sad. I stopped a couple of times to give my condolences to someone in tears, leaving after losing their beloved pet or a pet to some animal who was leaving feeling much better. What bothered me the most that evening was not the stress of waiting to hear Jaspers's diagnosis but what one woman shared with me when I stopped to hug her. In between the tears and sobbing, she managed to say that she had just had to have her elderly dog put down and that it was just so difficult but that it was not as horrible as the day while at another vet she used to go to with her dog that was only five years old that had been bitten by a snake and could not afford to pay the bill all at once that day. This dog had given her only love and helped her through so many difficult times. She had begged them and said that if they gave her dog the anti-venom, she would leave a post-dated check and the dog there and be sure to have the money the following day. She had tried to call friends but could not get them, and the dog was suffering from the effects of the toxins because it was small; all while discussing money, he was succumbing to the venom that was, even more heart-wrenching for her. Her words made me realize that I had to do something. What was our world coming to when money meant more than a life? So many things were racing through my mind at that moment that I had to take a deep breath and focus on Jasper for the time being. But the thought never left my mind that I had to be the voice for this dog. It was just about that time when I heard the vet speaking to my husband, so I gave her one last hug and went back into the exam room, and this feeling came over me of dread. I said, "Well, how is he and she said he has very high liver enzymes and if we don't treat him immediately, he will go downhill quickly, but the problem is we don't know why, so we want to do an ultrasound and put him on iv fluids. My heart sank because I knew that we were on a budget at this point because of our move, and although we always kept a savings fund for the rescues either from going without little things ourselves or from small little donations along the way over the years from people who knew what we did. But all I could hear was that woman saying I could not afford it because the cost was so expensive, and I will never forget looking into her eyes to tell her. My husband looked at me, and the vet said I will get an estimate for you and left the room. Jasper was looking at us and giving us his standard head butts, and we were trying to decide how we would save his life.

The vet came back and told us that we could take him home and they would give us medications but that the chances of his living would be better if they put him in ICU, and they tried to get his liver enzymes down in an immediate manner. That the longer they stayed that way, the more damage it would do, but she also told us that the liver was the one organ that healed itself and that if they could get him back on track that he might just be okay with some medications that we could take home after the fact. She then told us that if we decided to leave him, there would be a minimum of to start, and they would call us and update us on prices; as they went along, when we were unable to leave him, they would stop treatment and send him home with medications. I don't know if I was numb at that point because of the cost or because of the statement that when we could not pay for the treatment, they would stop. I thought to myself, this did not sound like our vet. I knew my vet's heart was as beautiful as the animals they treated, so why was my vet even saying this?

I pulled out my credit card and said go ahead, put him in ICU, and save his life. We then hugged Jasper and told him that we would be back, and he would be going on the trip to his new home with us.

The days passed, and Jasper had been in ICU for five days. At this point, his liver values were coming down, and he was eating and drinking, so we would be bringing him home. I was so glad he was coming home, but all this time, all I could think about was that woman and her dog who had to die because she did not have the means to pay. I needed to do something. I could not let that dog's voice, who had to give his life, go unheard.

That evening we picked Jasper up, and as I walked in to get him, it was bittersweet for me. I was so happy to be bringing him home and grateful for the caring and compassion he received while there and the fact that they kept me updated every morning on his progress. Still, another part of me kept hearing the woman sobbing I had spoken with five days ago as I stood there.

It has been a year since that day, and I still think about that dog who had to lose his life. I finally paid off my credit card for the bill, and the words that will follow in no way reflect on the vet's office where Jasper was treated because I have seen the side of the vets there that reflect real love for animals, and they should be proud of that. They always offered alternatives and not a death sentence. It is how I feel every time I see an animal's life taken when money is the only thing standing in the way.

This is the veterinarian's oath: "As a member of the veterinary medical profession, I solemnly swear that I will use my scientific knowledge and skills for the benefit of society. I will strive to promote animal health and welfare, relieve animal suffering, protect the health of the public and environment, and advance comparative medical knowledge."

This oath in my heart is shallow and empty. This oath is not about loving animals and genuine empathy. It is something that fits into our society today. This is the oath that a vet whose heart is not in the right place can use as an excuse for working in a lab that tests on animals. This is an oath that I would not proclaim if I had become a vet because it does not stand for the person I am.

This oath is what I hear in my heart every time I step into a vet's office and see someone turned away who is willing to pay but needs to do it in payments. This is the oath I hear in my mind every time I hear about vets testing on animals in labs for the supposed good of society when we are so advanced that we do not need to do this or are we? Sometimes I question if man is the most intelligent species, or shall I say I used to, now I know we are not.

I will never forget the day I entered that clinic with Jasper, and I will forever be grateful for two things that will live with me for my lifetime. One of those things was the words Jasper is ready to come home, and the other was the words of a woman who had to lose her dog that evening.

That day changed my life forever because I now not only continue to help homeless animals, but I am the voice for animals who have had to die because veterinarians' prices are so high that most people can not afford to save their dog's lives and often because of the greed that so many people have when it comes to money and monetary things. I am not saying it starts with the vets themselves, but you are a part of it. To all veterinarians, I say this You should not be doing what you are doing if the feeling of saving an animal's life is not what drives you to do this and if losing an animal does not break your heart as much as it does the family who has lost this pet. I have been there when you turned away someone sobbing who could not pay for the bill at once but, with good intentions, offered to leave what cash they had and make payments. I have been there when a child held their puppy in their arms, their best friend, and they had to leave them behind because of greed, and their mother had to tell them why. I have been there when someone needed medication for a dog that they had run out of, and they were denied that medication without a follow-up visit that cost more than the medication itself. Yes, you have rules to follow, but you also have rules that you can bend if your heart is in the right place. Next time you look into the eyes of an animal you refuse to help because of the monetary situation, take the time to walk and look into a mirror after you turn them away because that is when you will shed the same tears that the person you turned away did because you now will be looking into the same soulless eyes that they did when they realized that they were going to have to say goodbye to or not be able to help someone that they loved dearly someone whose heart was unconditional.

I will continue to help animals, and I will continue to go without the little things in life that might be nice to have and make me smile because the smile that these animals give me in my heart every day is more meaningful and beautiful than any smile that comes from something superficial that money can buy. I am forever grateful for the priceless love I get every day simply for caring, and I hope that one day our society's values will be like that of our animal friends because that is when our world will heal and be a better place to live in.