SHEESH!
“Ya mean I gotta open a new account just to cancel my doggy’s medical insurance?
Rob Peter to pay Paul?”
About two weeks ago I had to give up on my beloved dog “Scarlett.”
She was 13 years old = an old dog.
Never before have I had an Irish Setter last that long. She was Irish Setter #6, and rescue #4.
Scarlett hung with me despite my wife dying over five years ago. She became “The Queen.” I spoiled her rotten. I let her prewash the plates and pans, walked her a lot, and helped her hunt — even at 3 a.m. in snow.
She started having seizures perhaps two weeks earlier. My local vet prescribed anti-seizure pills, and I gave ‘em to her.
She spit one out, then almost immediately had another seizure. There was probably cancer in her head. Off again to Veterinary Specialists & Emergency Services near Rochester. It was too late to visit my local vet.
They hospitalized her overnight, but taking her home was too risky. Emergency-vet was 40 minutes from my house. What if I had to go there late-at-night again? Beyond that, she’d probably only get worse. She already looked old, and was hard-of-hearing.
Extremely loyal though. BEST dog I ever had.
So I gave up — except my boarder calls it “caring for my dog.” That boarder runs the kennel where I boarded my dog during long trips. They loved my dog too, and came for moral support.
So now my dog is back to dust; ashes dispersed in a nearby park she loved.
My dog’s ashes are between the bench and the pond. (The kennel owner is sitting with me.) —Scarlett would go down into the pond to get a drink, plus hunt for frogs. She also addressed geese out on the pond (LUNGE).
That kennel also cremates dogs.
I’m DEVASTATED! I knew this would happen sometime, but held off as long as I could. Scarlett meant the world to me — but she got old, and boss-dogs usually outlive their secondary dogs.
So now I’m dispensing her stuff. Dog-food, treats, medications, etc. And telling anyone that knew her, which I never can do without crying.
“How do I tell you this without crying?” I was delivering a donation to a nearby charity the other day. I did so previously, and usually had Scarlett with me. The attendant loved Scarlett, and always fussed her.
I still had to cancel my dog’s medical insurance — which I never used because filing a claim meant giving up hours of time. Even though a bill might be over $1,500. I could usually slam-dunk it; like my time was more valuable.
My wife set up that medical insurance long ago, probably because a previous dog got cancer. We didn’t have the insurance then, so treatment was out-of-pocket ($6,000). If Scarlett got cancer we/I woulda filed a claim.
I clicked “new account.” Filled stuff in. “Our records indicate this policy number is already associated with an existing Pet Account Access page login ID.”
AW MAN!
I called the medical insurance. They referred me to their website.
“Our records indicate.....” etc, etc.
Beyond that their site was mental overload.
Step-by-torturous-step I slowly pored through it; I got better things to do.
This is turning into a high-school science project. All I wanna do is cancel my dog’s medical insurance.
“So send a letter!” There goes maybe an hour or so: compose letter, address envelope, mail from a nearby post-office drive-by mailbox. On-and-on it goes. My time is precious. I can’t easily spare an hour.
“Or cancel online.” Sure; if I can figger yer website. At which point the service-rep calls Security. Geezer-alert! Older friends I know throw up their hands if “online” is suggested.
Sometimes I think the world is leaving me behind. Every online contact wants an account. Fer what? So they can sell my information to thems that e-mail me hottie-links?
I shouldn’t need an account just to cancel it.
Is this the new century’s paradigm? (Thank you, Suckerbird.)
• A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. (Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.) By getting a rescue-dog we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett wasn't bad.
• “Suckerbird” is Mark Zuckerberg, head honcho of Facebook.
Rob Peter to pay Paul?”
About two weeks ago I had to give up on my beloved dog “Scarlett.”
She was 13 years old = an old dog.
Never before have I had an Irish Setter last that long. She was Irish Setter #6, and rescue #4.
Scarlett hung with me despite my wife dying over five years ago. She became “The Queen.” I spoiled her rotten. I let her prewash the plates and pans, walked her a lot, and helped her hunt — even at 3 a.m. in snow.
She started having seizures perhaps two weeks earlier. My local vet prescribed anti-seizure pills, and I gave ‘em to her.
She spit one out, then almost immediately had another seizure. There was probably cancer in her head. Off again to Veterinary Specialists & Emergency Services near Rochester. It was too late to visit my local vet.
They hospitalized her overnight, but taking her home was too risky. Emergency-vet was 40 minutes from my house. What if I had to go there late-at-night again? Beyond that, she’d probably only get worse. She already looked old, and was hard-of-hearing.
Extremely loyal though. BEST dog I ever had.
So I gave up — except my boarder calls it “caring for my dog.” That boarder runs the kennel where I boarded my dog during long trips. They loved my dog too, and came for moral support.
So now my dog is back to dust; ashes dispersed in a nearby park she loved.
My dog’s ashes are between the bench and the pond. (The kennel owner is sitting with me.) —Scarlett would go down into the pond to get a drink, plus hunt for frogs. She also addressed geese out on the pond (LUNGE).
That kennel also cremates dogs.
I’m DEVASTATED! I knew this would happen sometime, but held off as long as I could. Scarlett meant the world to me — but she got old, and boss-dogs usually outlive their secondary dogs.
So now I’m dispensing her stuff. Dog-food, treats, medications, etc. And telling anyone that knew her, which I never can do without crying.
“How do I tell you this without crying?” I was delivering a donation to a nearby charity the other day. I did so previously, and usually had Scarlett with me. The attendant loved Scarlett, and always fussed her.
I still had to cancel my dog’s medical insurance — which I never used because filing a claim meant giving up hours of time. Even though a bill might be over $1,500. I could usually slam-dunk it; like my time was more valuable.
My wife set up that medical insurance long ago, probably because a previous dog got cancer. We didn’t have the insurance then, so treatment was out-of-pocket ($6,000). If Scarlett got cancer we/I woulda filed a claim.
I clicked “new account.” Filled stuff in. “Our records indicate this policy number is already associated with an existing Pet Account Access page login ID.”
AW MAN!
I called the medical insurance. They referred me to their website.
“Our records indicate.....” etc, etc.
Beyond that their site was mental overload.
Step-by-torturous-step I slowly pored through it; I got better things to do.
This is turning into a high-school science project. All I wanna do is cancel my dog’s medical insurance.
“So send a letter!” There goes maybe an hour or so: compose letter, address envelope, mail from a nearby post-office drive-by mailbox. On-and-on it goes. My time is precious. I can’t easily spare an hour.
“Or cancel online.” Sure; if I can figger yer website. At which point the service-rep calls Security. Geezer-alert! Older friends I know throw up their hands if “online” is suggested.
Sometimes I think the world is leaving me behind. Every online contact wants an account. Fer what? So they can sell my information to thems that e-mail me hottie-links?
I shouldn’t need an account just to cancel it.
Is this the new century’s paradigm? (Thank you, Suckerbird.)
• A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. (Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.) By getting a rescue-dog we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett wasn't bad.
• “Suckerbird” is Mark Zuckerberg, head honcho of Facebook.
Labels: online follies
posted by BobbaLew at 7:04 AM
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