So Bubba The Half-Paralyzed-Shaved-Tub-Cat is slowly improving although he’s still all man boobs and misery. If he had opposable thumbs he’d probably slit his own wrists. Also the bills keep rolling in and I just found out that the $100 we paid to have him humped by the vet was something that we could have done ourselves for six bucks.
At this point we fully expect to come in and find that the vet wants to give Bubba bionic kidneys or a titanium uvula. Probably our next conversation with the vet (who in my mind sounds exactly like Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights) will go something like this:
Our vet: Well, it was a lot of work but I’m pleased to tell you that we replaced Bubba’s gallbladder with a solid steel one! That’ll be $8000.
Us: Wait…do cats even need their gallbladders? What about his paralyzed back legs?
Vet: Well, you’ll have to settle your account up before we can look at those. Also, we gave him robotic front paws.
Us: But his front legs were fine. Why would you replace them?
Vet: Now Bubba can run 400 miles an hour with his front legs!
Us: Yes, but he’s just dragging his useless back legs. He’s started a fire out in the lobby. He smells like burning corduroy. We are not paying for this.
Vet: Why? Don’t you love your cat? You don’t think your cat deserves bionic kidneys? Look at him! He’s totally bad-ass!
Us: No. No, he’s not. He’s just half bad-ass. He’s just…ass.
Vet: Wanna hear our next step? We’re flying in Salvadore Dali’s grandson to give him flame tattoos and pin-striping.
Vet: Yeah. It’s going to be insanely expensive but totally amazing.