After our Waldo passed the vet’s office manager came in to discuss “the options” with G. They talked him into allowing their office to handle the cremation. It was more expensive, but it would require nothing further of us and we could grieve in peace. HAH!
The same person called us on Tuesday to let us know that she had charged the wrong amount for Waldo’s urn and now needed $60 more. HAH!
So, I told her, OK, just refund all of the cremation and urn and non-vet fees and I’ll have another crematory service come pick him up. I wasn’t entirely on board with them doing it anyway and the other place had the urn I liked best. Her answer?
Nincompoop: I don’t know if we can do that?
Me: Why? It was no problem yesterday… Has he already been processed?
Nincompoop: … … …
Me: Where is my dog?
Nincompoop: That’s a good question, let me get back with you.
Me: FIND MY DOG!!!!!!!!! WTF do you mean “that’s a good question?” He’s f’ing dead he didn’t walk away!
I wish that was one of my clever paraphrase jobs. It’s not. They lost my dog. They found him in time to be picked up by the cremation service on Wednesday. So they say. Who knows who’s ashes I’m getting back? Am pissed.
So, the urn was still an issue. The arranged plan became for me to go buy the urn I liked and deliver it to the vet’s office. Because that’s so much easier for me. See how convenient it was to just let them handle everything?