This little boy, Rel, or as I sometimes called him Pushkin, died last night, in my arms. He was only 6 1/2 months. We were rushing to the all night vet, and got there too late. He was gone. And not one of the staff members at the vet could give too shits. We came in with a dead kitty and no one said anything. All the idiot woman,who led us into a room, said, in terms of being "nice" was there was no charge. Isn't that big-hearted of her? No charge to take a fucking stethoscope and confirm kitty was dead. Wow!
Talk about zero compassion!
