Dear Canine Oncologist,
You were very nice, and spent quite a long time talking with us, which I appreciate. Chester seemed to like you as well, as evidenced by his decision not to express his anal glands all over your expensive shoes. (You’re welcome.)
They were really nice shoes, and inspired a great deal of confidence in your diagnostic skills.
I do, however, have a small bone to pick. I did not give you a pile of money to tell me my dog has cancer; I know my dog has cancer. I gave you a pile of money to say “Yes, I recommend chemotherapy” or “No, I don’t recommend treatment, so let’s just make him as comfortable as we can.” Instead, we had to make this incredibly shitty decision ourselves.
For god’s sake, there were FOUR OPTIONS. Could you have at least eliminated one or two for us? Even Who Wants to Be A Millionaire gives you a 50/50.
Therefore I am requesting a refund for your fee, plus a to-be-determined amount of no less than seventeen bajillion dollars for emotional damages. Alternatively, you could find a cure for canine lymphoma in the next three to six weeks.
Please advise your preference.
PS: I am not picking on you, I just want to be mad at someone. You were lovely, and Chester says thanks for the care and attention.