The Forgotten Mango

I have completely forgotten to even mention the sixth member of our family.
He was technically also the first one to make us a family.
He is Little Mango Dog (shown here).

It's funny - I get so busy most of the time that I forget he's there entirely, apart from at feed times and bed time. I notice him then because I specifically have to deal with him but the rest of the time I have so much else going on, he is in the background somewhere. This can make me pretty sad to think of how our relationship has changed since having kids and lament the fact that we don't pay him any attention anymore. But then I remember I am not home most of the day and the kids are - although my relationship with him has changed, theirs has developed and matured into a very deep bond.
He is absolutely part of the family, there is no doubt about it.

Testament to this is some recent issues he's been going through. He's got arthritis in his back legs, he has itchy, inflamed skin near his tail and he started losing weight quickly. So Mrs Mango took him back to the vet who then proceeded to tell her that his years of chewing a tennis ball had destroyed a lot of the nerves in his teeth, infected some of them and fused other to the bone. In hindsight I still wouldn't have taken the ball away from him because his life would be nothing without it. So radical teeth extraction therapy was proposed - this would apparently clear up the infection which would help his body fight off the itchy skin, which was in fact causing his back legs to become sorer than they already were. He still had arthritis and there was nothing we do about that but this surgery would solve everything else! And as a person who isn't a vet listening to this, even though alarm bells are going off that it makes no real sense, you just nod and say, 'Yes doctor - do whatever needs to be done.' And you don't ask how much it costs because the look that comes back says this: 'are you putting a price on the life or your pet?' Truthfully, not really - but it does need to factored in at some point - I mean, come on - there's a limit, right? (SARCASM ALERT)

Besides which, I think the vet has ulterior motives. Regardless of any scientific proof there may be, my theory is this. This vet is obviously the animal health care equivalent of a doctor that puts leeches on people to cure them. Several times a week the nurses hear him shout from an examination room, "HIS TEETH MUST BE REMOVED!" and groan, although I imagine they would probably be very good at assisting by now, perhaps even getting a little interested themselves. I can picture him right now in the back room of his surgery, the part that never gets seen, muttering to himself and breaking into occasional fits of laughter as he prays to the shrine of animal teeth that lay before him. The nurse knocks at the door, he quits laughing and barks at her to enter.
'Doctor, your nine o'clock is here for his flea treatment - you said you wanted to see them next time they came in.'
And the vet starts rubbing his hands together maliciously - 'ah yes, Mrs Brown's border collie, yes, yes. Fleas - fleas are caused by teeth, bi-i-i-i-iggg teeth, that I can pull out.'
'Well, doctor, we could probably just sell them some flea treatment so they can do it themselves.'
'Absolutely not! The teeth must be removed - it's the only way!' And off he goes, puts his happy face on them concernedly tries to make some vague "scientific-sounding" connection between fleas and teeth.

I only say this because not only did he show Mrs Mango the teeth after they were removed, but then asked if he could keep them on a return visit. Just after that he said that he hoped Little Mango Dog showed some improvement because there was other teeth he could easily take out as well. And it wasn't like he hadn't seen Little Mango Dog before, he had been going regularly to this particular vet for nearly a year and a half. There was no talk before then of teeth problems. God help us if the teeth thing doesn't solve everything because he might suggest drilling into his brain next.
'Well the teeth extraction was a long shot, but it's always my first option. No what we're going to need here is a complete frontal lobotomy - that should fix his itchy skin problem!'
And if taking out teeth costs nearly a grand, who knows how much that will cost?!

Now, at roughly $1000, that works out to be $100 per tooth, and what a deal for him to take the teeth out and then tell us how much it's going to be. I can't really tell him to put them back in, can I? Then he gets a thousand dollars, and some teeth to add to his worship wall. And the worst part about vets (lovely people though and I really do support anyone that is out to look after animals) - they always make you feel so damn guilty. They play on the fact that you love your pet and you want them to have a great life. You think you're giving them everything they could want with the time and money you have and then vets are like, 'Oh, no - he's suffering miserably - you are the worst animal carer in history. BUT, if you pay me lots of money for some vague surgery and then buy this Baby Shampoo re-bottled as "scientifically-designed hair, follicle and skin treatment to work with the particular DNA of dogs, with added conditioning and pheromone perfume for that improved DOG smell, then you will solve all of his problems. And your guilt you shameless animal torturer!" And you break down in tears and throw your wallet at him, screaming your PIN at the top of your lungs so he'll just make the pain go away. "I am a good person - 6529 - I love my dog!" (BTW that is not my PIN so don't try to steal my money - I think you'd be very disappointed anyway - we just went to the vet, remember?) Honestly - how do they sleep at night??!!!!

But that's the real test whether your dog is a family member or not, isn't it? You might bitch and moan about the cost, but you never for a minute consider not paying it. And most likely, if you pass that test and pay the money for the unintelligible treatment, then spend more of your time looking after them in the future, you are a responsible pet owner. And that does feel pretty damn good. It feels like success. Sure, the dog may be gumming any potential burglars for the rest of his life, setting fire to dog houses from electricity generated by his uncontrollable hair  from the shampoo, and be generally unresponsive to any stimuli due to the brain surgery; but his remaining slobbery, static, and stupid years will be spent knowing that somebody loves him.
And, really - isn't that what family is for?