The Bark Side of Capitalism: An Introduction

Here’s a fun game: take your monthly rent and divide it by the number of iced oat lattes you drink. Then, see what you have left and discover that pet insurance eats it all up.

Yes, you need insurance. For your furry therapist that eats socks and licks people’s toes like they were made for them. Do you remember when pets were just there? Now they have wellness visits, co-pays, and more paperwork than you had to fill out when you started your last job.

Congratulations! You unintentionally acquired a furry toddler. You don’t have a college savings plan, but you do have a $60 “behavioral consult.” And somehow, it is covered by insurance.

You know you’ve gone too far when the vet looks you in the eye and asks, “Will you be paying out of pocket or do you have insurance?” This isn’t taking care of pets anymore. It looks like Wall Street with fur.

The Animal World’s Scammy Gym Membership

Pet insurance for wellness visits is like that gym membership you never use. Instead of feeling bad about skipping leg day, your vet will tell you your cat needs more “preventive blood work.” Spoiler: They constantly say “more.” All the time.

This is what you’re really signing up for when you get wellness coverage: Paying monthly premiums instead of just putting money in your savings account. The nice, fluffy feeling of red tape wrapping around your puppy like a heavy blanket. Filing claims that are so hard they should be considered exercise.

Sure, insurance might “save you money” if your pet suddenly has IBS after eating your AirPods, but what about wellness visits? In other words, you’re paying for immunizations and teeth cleanings like they’re a Tesla.

(Imagine that one cynical uncle saying, “Back in my day, Fluffy got her shots and we didn’t need actuarial tables to figure out how much it would cost.”)

Your Dog’s Insurance Is Now Better Than Yours

Let’s be honest: a lot of pet insurance policies cover things that you wish your own health insurance did. Wellness checks that never end? Dental cleanings to keep problems from happening? No “out-of-network” clowning? In the meantime, you’re sending $450 to Urgent Care because you stubbed your toe on IKEA furniture.

And don’t even get me started on the benefits. Some policies really cover “behavioral therapy.” So, yeah, your stressed-out schnauzer might obtain mental health care before you actually get therapy from that “BetterHelp” commercial you keep seeing.

Think about how you would explain this to your parents:

• You don’t have dental insurance.
• But your dog does.

I adore paying $70 to wait in an exam room while the vet tells you how “emotionally strong” your pug is. In the meantime, I can’t even afford to have my own molar checked.

Millennials, Pets, and Mental Health Issues

Listen up: Millennials care for their dogs like kids. We have birthday parties. We buy hoodies for our pets. When no one is around, we converse to them in that awful baby voice. And, of course, we get insurance. God forbid Fluffy misses a “wellness visit” while you’re trying to make your groceries last.

What is the reason we do this?

Capitalism has already made it hard to own a home, so why not finance a puppy? Because a dude on TikTok made you feel bad about “real pet care.”

Because when you check out, vets now give you a brochure and a guilt trip on the world’s most suspiciously good cardstock.

Yes, I did buy the policy. Yes, my cat’s safety net is bigger than my emergency fund. No, I don’t want to talk about it.

The True Price of That “Free” Puppy

Stop stating you “rescued” a dog for nothing. You didn’t. You just began paying the Pet Wellness Industrial Complex™ monthly subscription costs.

Let’s make it clear:

• Fee for adoption: $200
• Bowls and a crate cost $100.
• Toys and chews (also known as sacrifices to the chew gods): $75
• The first set of shots costs $120.
• Insurance costs $30 to $60 a month.

When you find out that your dog’s eye infection medications cost more than your glasses, you have an emo meltdown: free but costly in a spiritual way.

That “free rescue mutt” is now costing you the same as your WiFi, utilities, and Netflix all together. I hope Max likes “pawternity care,” since this week you’re eating ramen again.

(Play a laugh track from an empty studio crowd since you’re crying inside.)

So, Should You Buy It or Not?

This is how it works: pet insurance might make sense, but only if you do the arithmetic as you’re picking a credit card. If you freak out when Little Biscuit sneezes twice in one day, wellness coverage is basically your emotional support subscription plan.

If you like to “rub some dirt on it,” you might want to skip this. Wellness visits are easy to plan for, so instead of paying high premiums, just put $40 a month in a “dog bank account,” which is a mug under the sink with the words “rabies shots” on it. Boom. Done.

But let’s be honest: you won’t do it. You’re going to buy the insurance, forget how much it costs, and then say it’s worth it because Maple got a free nail trim.

Conclusion

In conclusion, congratulations! You are now the middle manager for your dog. Well, here you are. You got through this tirade about pet insurance for wellness visits, which implies you probably already have the coverage and just needed to hear it again, or you’re thinking about getting it since TikTok said it’s part of “self-care.”

Don’t worry, either way, you’re effectively auditioning to be your pet’s underpaid personal assistant.

Will insurance help you save money in the future? It’s possible. Will it make you think about how pets have less stress than most working millennials? Of course.

Good luck telling your prospective therapist why you can’t afford weekly sessions. Your budget was eaten alive by Spike’s “pet care” premiums.