Clarification, or: down, blog-guests! Down!

Dear finslippy readers:

I have received several outraged emails and comments in response to our vet's thoughts regarding the high costs of medical expenses vs. one's love of one's pet.

Listen. Listen. I'm touched that you're all up in arms over my vet--it warms the cockles of my heart, truly. If I knew where those cockles were, I would poke them, and they would be all toasty, and I would say, ah, thank you, readers. But the thing is, when I quoted my vet, I was using a little device we in the Writing Biz like to call Making Shit Up. Otherwise known as Making Boring Shit Funnier.

If I had written what she had actually said, which was (before we had asked about price), "You know, these tests can really add up, so I'll get you all the prices and you can think about it," what fun would that have been? Instead, I visited the Unreliable Narrator who lives in a dank cubby within my brain, and she was muttering, "I know that friggin' vet really thinks we're cheap assholes who'd rather abandon our dog in Prospect Park than pay for one more test," and I decided to use her interpretation of the conversation, and--here we are.

However, she did just call us to say that the x-rays revealed no kidney stones BUT it showed an "abnormally small liver," whatever that indicates (isn't that good? I mean, considering how much he drinks) so now she wants some blood tests, and she kept saying, "You know, Charlie is six," as if we might as well start building his coffin today--get out the planks! where did I put those nails?--and I hate our vet a little now, so go ahead, badmouth her some more.