**The Price of Care**
Emily had no illusions about her dogs age. Daisy, a shaggy, long-muzzled collie, no longer bounded after whistles in the park or chased the ball she once proudly retrieved. Lately, things had grown worse: mornings were slow, Daisy skirted her food bowl, and after walks, shed lie by the door with a quiet sigh. Each evening, Emily sat beside her on the rug, stroking the soft fur between her ears, knowing a vet visit couldnt wait.
She chose a weekend for the appointment, wanting no rush. Outside, the pavements were slick with spring slush, mud clinging to her boots before shed even left the block. Her handbag, worn thin at the seams, carried the weight of her budgetaccounting had taught her to tally every pound in advance.
Daisy plodded beside her, damp fur matted by rain and melting snowtypical for England in March. They arrived early at the clinic, the sharp scent of antiseptic mixing with something medicinal. Emily checked in and settled in the waiting area, Daisy curling at her feet. Staring at the mud streaking her shoes, Emilys chest tightenedmedical visits always unsettled her. Last year had been simple: one jab and advice to switch dog food.
The vet, a composed man in his thirties, examined Daisy thoroughlyprobing her joints, listening through his stethoscope. «She has a pronounced arrhythmia,» he said. «Well need bloodwork, an ECGimmediately.» The list of tests came with a staggering price. Emilys fingers trembled on the paper.
Walking home through the mire, her thoughts tangled between fear for Daisy and frustration at the cost. Frugality warred with guiltwhat if she skimped and made things worse?
At home, she spread an old towel by the radiator for Daisys damp paws, then stared through the rain-beaded window. Dusk fell early in spring. That evening, she scoured the clinics website, rereading the vets notes. It all seemed logical, yet the sheer volume of tests gnawed at her. Later, she found a local dog owners forum. Threads overflowed with similar storiessome warning of upselling at «prestige» clinics, others urging second opinions.
Relief came in small doses. People shared contacts for «honest» vets, others explained how to separate essential tests from optional add-ons. For days, Emily waveredwhat if skipping tests harmed Daisy? But what if the vets list was excessive?
She booked a second opinion at a modest practice nearby. The waiting room was sparse, pale green walls peeling at the edges. The vet, a tired-eyed woman, listened carefully as Emily laid out both listsone from the fancy clinic, the other her own notes.
«Not all of this is urgent,» the vet finally said. «Start with bloodwork and the ECG. Well monitor from there.» The price halved overnight.
The walk home felt lighter. Daisy trotted more briskly, as if sensing relief. That night, Emily called her sister. «Ill stick to the basicsbloodwork and ECG. The rest can wait.»
Her sister agreed. «You know her best. Just watch her closely.»
After the call, Emily studied Daisy, now dozing by the radiator, paws stretched, nose twitching. The fear had easedno longer torn between overspending or neglect, she trusted her choice.
Results came days later: stable for her age. «Keep up the meds,» the vet said. Emily called her daughter, voice bright. «Shes eating bettereven wagging her tail!»
«You did right, Mum,» came the warm reply.
Mornings settled into routineDaisy ambling to her bowl by the kitchen window, life returning bit by bit. Outside, rain still fell, streaking the glass, but inside, the lamplight glowed softly over test results and a revised medicine schedule.
The conflict had faded. Fear of missteps gave way to quiet assurancecare wasnt measured in receipts or tests, but in attention, in choices made from love, not pressure. Emily had grown from it, trusting herself over glossy brochures or forums. True care, she realised, demanded not just money, but discernmentand sometimes, the courage to say *enough*.
