So, there I am, sitting inside on the couch on a gloriously sunny Saturday evening, Googling, “How much is an MRI for a cat?”
It had been barely a month since it was first floated that the cat might need an MRI. She’s 13 years old and has been healthy for much of her life. There was one incident a few years ago when, after two days of vomiting, I conceded that she needed to see the vet, got out the dreaded pet carrier and took my life into my hands.
It went pretty much the same as the previous attempts: me sweating and crying a little bit as the cat performed supernatural acrobatics to ensure that all four paws were never inside the carrier at the same time. Eventually, after wrapping her in a towel like a burrito and firing her in, I was able to transport her for treatment. She howled and screamed all the way there, was mortifyingly rude to the vet, cost me €300 in tests, and of course they could find nothing wrong with her. She came home, hissed at me for a while, ate two dinners and slept on her miniature electric blanket for 14 hours. I, meanwhile, was a wreck.
When she developed a runny nose about six weeks ago, I fervently hoped it would resolve itself without the need for another traumatic run-in with the carrier. It didn’t get better. Instead, she began to sneeze out what I can only liken to the nasal excretions of a three-year-old who’s been licking every surface in a creche for the entire month of December. I didn’t know it was possible for a cat to develop a snot problem so human-like that she could blow bubbles out of her nostril. With a heavy heart I decided it was vet time once again.
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Desperate to avoid another journey from hell, I engaged the expertise of Vets at Home, a mobile service I hoped would take some of the stress out of investigating what was causing the snot rockets. Well, the cat fell for it hook, line and sinker. She practically threw herself at the angel from heaven who arrived to carry out the appointment; purring, rolling on her back, climbing on to the vet’s lap. I was almost embarrassed for her.
When the MRI was mentioned at that visit, I barely paid any heed. Antibiotics had been prescribed, it definitely wasn’t cat flu or anything super serious to worry about, and the little idiot didn’t even realise she’d been at the vets. I was mildly worried about getting the two tablets a day for seven days into her. Cats can sense when you’re trying to do what’s best for them and will lick around the smallest crumb and spit out the most well concealed pill. I exploited her weakness: those disgusting little cat Frubes of liquidised chicken and seafood, sort of creamy soups of pet food horror. The tablets went into the pestle and mortar, were mixed into the cat yoghurt, and she lapped it up. The sneezing stopped, the dayglo snot cleared up and life resumed.
Imagine my horror then, when she recently started snuffling and sniffing again. The mobile vet’s voice came back to me in horror slow motion: “If it’s a recurring problem she probably has a nasal polyp and will need an MRI and maybe surgery.” I’ve had three MRIs. They didn’t cost me anything. The internet tells me that for the cat to have an MRI I won’t get much change out of two grand. And then she might need surgery on top of that? You bet your bottom dollar I was sitting in on a Saturday night analysing my finances and telling the cat she could kiss her Dreamies buffet goodbye.
Going into a vet situation is much like getting the full works in the hairdressers. You’re never certain how much it’s going to cost and at no point does it feel appropriate to ask. It might be €150, it might be €400, and no matter what it will be a different amount every visit even if you’ve received identical highlights and curly blow-dry. It’s just one of the mysteries of life.
As I look at the cat, snoozing away after another long day of ignoring the elaborate climbing tree I purchased for her in favour of putting her arse on my laptop and howling through my Zoom calls, I must concede that I will find a way to get her the €2,000 MRI. I can’t wait for it to reveal there’s nothing wrong with her.
