Last week sometime, B! was informed that his debit card had been used to make some small purchases in Europe. The card was subsequently cancelled.

Just around the same time, I lost track of my own debit card. But I’m lazy about weird things, so I didn’t call to report it. “It’ll turn up,” I figured. “They usually do.”

Then, Jake started peeing again. Peeing like he used to, which is to say : everywhere. Off to the vet with him, then, and my Discover card for payment.

Midafternoon, a call from B!. Card was declined. The vet was more expensive than I’d anticipated. “Tell them we’ll pay them tomorrow,” I suggested, trying to be helpful. “What are they going to do, keep the cat as collateral?” B! met me at work, I gave him a check which he gave to the vet, and everyone was happy.

Until this morning.

Test results in, the general consensus is that I “have a very, very sick cat” that “needs emergency treatment”, like, yesterday. How perfectly timed.

“I’ll write myself a check!” I thought. “That’ll do the trick!” (Except for how I’d just used my last check for my psychiatrist’s exorbitant copay.) (It’s not her, it’s my health insurance.)

“I’ll go to the bank!” I decided. “Get a replacement card, pull out a few hundred dollars, order new checks”.  (Except for how it turns out my driver’s license is expired, which makes it ineligible for use as a form of identification.)

“Get your passport!” shrieked the customer manager at the bank, afire with inspiration. (Except for how the last time I saw my passport was also the last time I saw my friend Stephanie’s D80.) (Dammit!!)

After ransacking my apartment for the elusive passport, I found my debit card wedged between a Staples receipt and a gift card to Chili’s, so off to the hospital I went, brandishing cash borrowed from my parents.

More tests! An ultrasound! I’ve never spent so much money so quickly with so little pleasure. Next thing you know, they’re wanting to keep him overnight for observation and I’m seeing my meager financial goals melt like ice in a warm pond.

Eight hundred and something dollars later, we are all home. We have a bag of saline, three kinds of antibiotics, all-new kitty toys, and one very tired Jake. We also have needles for the subcutaneous hydrating saline solution. We are supposed to hold him down and stick these needles into his skin. This, I calculate, will save us nearly $300/day. Even still, I’m not at all sure that I can do it. Not really that sure at all.