The craziness continues...

My last post about the flaws of the Greek healthcare system led to unexpected comments and conclusions: That public healthcare really sucks, and that the American system had better remain unchanged.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means familiar with the American system (I've heard and read a lot, but didn't experience it myself), so I am not the one to say if it should be changed and how. But, at least as far as my own country is concerned, I am and have always been an avid supporter of public healthcare. Maybe in a future post we'll discuss about how this could work and benefit both patients and hospital employees. It may seem unreal and idealistic, but I think it could be done - if only someone was really willing to change the current horrible situation.

But before we talk about changes, it is important to describe what is really happening right now. So, our journey to The Twilight Zone featuring Greek hospitals continues...

If you think that winning the lottery is impossible, try finding a nurse in the Emergency department.

This is the second time I am writing about nurses, and taking in mind that the first time I was disagreeing with the fact that doctors and nurses are paid the same, while they don't work for the same hours and don't share the same responsibilities, you have every right to be suspicious of me. Maybe, like most doctors, I am suffering from "superiority/God complex", shunning nurses and flattering myself that I am much, much better.

Uh, I don't think so.

Because, let's face it - I am not. After all, I am just a clumsy Medical school graduate, still shaking when stitching (alert: This is NOT pleasant to watch - let alone experience!), almost pooping myself when an emergency comes in and I am alone in the room, even for a few minutes, while having no clue about most of the questions patients ask ("Will I get better?", "Is it too bad to eat half a roast lamb while suffering from gastric ulcer?", "Will the guys from Lost ever get out of this f-ing island for good?" - no sorry, the last one is a question I ask myself all the time, and not the patients!)

So yeah, I am not better, and I know it. The nurses know it. The whole hospital knows it. But it's ok. Because I'm not supposed to know everything right away. But please, dear nurse looking at me with a scornful look, help me. Teach me. Don't scowl at me in front of the (terrified) patient. And most importantly, don't leave me alone when I need you the most.

For some weird reason, becoming a doctor in Greece is much too popular than becoming a nurse. As a result, for every 5 doctors that beg for a job, there is only one nurse, who is always in high demand. And also for some curious reason, there are never enough nurses in the Greek hospitals. So, in order to deal with that, we have come up with the model of "Beaming-up-Nurse 3000", a special-patented nurse that manages to move from one clinic to another in seconds.

Or at least, she is supposed to. Because the nurses working in hospitals, compared to those that are actually needed to meet the needs, are much much less. As a result, the same nurse is supposed to cover the surgical department, while performing patch tests at the dermatology clinic, and measuring glucose levels in diabetic patients. All these cannot possibly be done at the same time.

The result? Huge lines of patients complaining about the long wait, doctors carrying samples to the labs, because there is no one else to take them down there, patients' relatives making the patients' beds and carrying them to the X-ray department themselves, students left alone to deal with life-threatening situations simply because there is no one else at the ER at that moment. It is CRAZY in there!

So no, I don't hate nurses. In fact, I love them dearly. So much, that I would like to have as many of them as possible. Please god, give me nurses. Because a good nurse can always save the day (and my own a$$ as well)...

I blame it all on George Clooney

My last post was going to be about Medicine and Med school, but "Greek parents" appeared out of nowhere and monopolised the conversation - after all, it was to be expected. Hopefully, this time there won't be any more surprises. We'll see...

As I wrote last time, I chose to be a doctor pretty much because I was an ER fanatic (and of course I mean the tv show, not the actual Emergency Room!). I was so carried away by the stories, that I ended up believing that real - life doctors would be like this:

Instead, I was terrified to discover that they actually look like this:

So I will some inside info today - dirty things that I didn't know when I applied for Med school. Had I known them, maybe I would have chosen a different profession altogether. Or at least I would have gotten a second job, trying to save money for therapy sessions, right from the start!

This post is not meant to be funny. Some of the things that I will describe are actually tragic. Any similarity to real facts or people is NOT a coincidence. So if you are easily upset and don't want to end up avoiding all hospitals and doctors just because you don't trust them anymore, please don't read any further. Oh, and if you choose to think that these things only happen in Greece because in reality it is a third - world country, feel free to do so. Whatever helps you sleep at night...

1) Taking the Hippocrates oath to heart (as long as my heart is where my wallet is)

The first thing you swear to do as a doctor, is to provide your help without asking for a reward. This is pretty cool, but doctors are people too, and they too need to eat, have a safe place to spend the night, and generally meet their biological needs - so they need to get paid for their work. The real problem arises when having a 197-inch plasma screen is considered a biological need, and the fact that you definitely have to get one forces the patient out of his own place!

In Greece, healthcare is public. This means that hospital care is provided for free, as long as your are insured. Fear not of the mighty term "insured", my friends. In Greece it is very easy to get insurance, and it covers pretty much everything. So basically, hospitals are open for everybody, free of charge.

In theory, at least. Because in the hypothetical case you need an operation, for example, doctors' implications become quite nasty: "There is a great waiting list", and "your operation should take place after 3 months or so and not earlier", and "it is a fairly difficult procedure that needs the utmost care and dedication from the physician", and so on.

If you fail to take a hint, you are likely to be banished to the worst room, with a broken bed or something, while the medical staff weirdly doesn't notice you very much, and your operation somehow takes forever to schedule. Unless you manage to produce some pocket money, say 500 or 1,000 dollars to the physician in charge. Not out in the open, of course. You need to be discreet, put them in an envelope, and carefully slide them into the doctor's pocket.

If you perform this trick, you almost instantly get an upgrade, the staff becomes very tentative of you, and your operation is due for the very next day. All goes well in the end, you recover quickly and go home, satisfied with the excellent medical care you received. It is a win - win situation.

The problem? You spent 1,000 dollars to get medical care that is supposed to be provided for free!

And this, my friends, is the number one pain in the booty in the Greek medical system. "The envelope situation". Money you are not obliged to give, but you give anyway. Money that is not taxed, and just fill the attending doctor's pocket. Money you may not even have - and what happens then, if you are in desperate need of an operation?

Please don't tell me that in the USA a tonsilectomy, for example, would cost far more money than only 1,000 dollars, so we should be happy for not paying as much. The problem is that you cannot have public and free healthcare and then demand "black" money from the patients! It is illegal to do so, and yet, most doctors do it and nobody EVER gets prosecuted! It is a secret that everybody knows, and nobody takes action against. It is a practice that encourages corruption and exploitation of the patients. THIS makes us a third - world country, and not one less metro station, or one less overpriced stadium.

But, to be absolutely fair, this is the opposite opinion...

Greek doctors are the worst paid doctors in Europe. Not only is it painfully difficult to find a job here (I described the situation with the waiting lists and the fact that you may need to wait for 10 years from the moment you graduate, until you start your residency in an earlier post), but the salary is a joke. We get paid 2,000 dollars per month - approximately 25,000 dollars per year. Our salary is the same as the nurses', school teachers', and even civil cervants' working in the tax department. By no means do I mean that we are better than all these people. It's just that our work hours are incredibly more.

While I am on call, 5 different shifts of nurses come and go. That means that I work as much as 5 different nurses, (starting on Monday morning, for example, and going home on Tuesday afternoon) and somehow I am paid the same as each one of them! And I don't even need to stress the fact that our time of studies is not the same, and our accountability in case something goes wrong is anything but similar.

What's more disturbing, is that the government fails to pay us even this small salary in time. All through 2008, doctors in Greece went on strike, because the extra money they legally deserved for being on-call and working overtime wasn't given. According to European Union laws, it is now obligatory to work only 4 days overtime per month. This is what you are paid for. Unfortunately, there are not enough doctors in the hospital to meet the patients' needs, and if each one of us worked overtime only 4 days per month, the emergency department would be empty and unstaffed!

So what are the idiotic doctors forced to do? Work 10 days per month overtime (or else patients would need a bounty hunter to search for a doctor at weekends, for example), and get paid for 4! What kind of country does that to its citizens? Isn't slavery supposed to have been abolished centuries ago?

This horrible situation is the excuse many doctors give for getting the notorious "envelope money". But this excuse is a lame one, in my opinion. I agree that we are underpaid, and in many cases, non-paid. I agree that the government treats us like fools. I agree that we have worked our @sses off and don't deserve this situation.

But exploiting patients is not the answer. We took an oath, remember? An oath to help them, as much as possible, no matter what. We are the victims in this, but victimising patients too is not the solution. We should fight for more. We should ask for more. But we are turning to the wrong people to ask for money.

That's it for now. Hit me with your comments and tranquilizers, people! And imagine this - we are still on #1! A long way to go...

The vampire country

As many of you now, I am now living on the island of Mytilene, working (?) as a general practitioner. It is an exciting experience, and I will come back with photos of the beautiful island and my everyday life as soon as possible. But today's post is about how I ended up on this island of Northern Aegean Sea, just a few miles west of Turkey.

But before we start, here is a picture of Mytilene's port. There are many more amazing photos to show you, so be patient until my next posts.

And here is Mytilene on the map of Greece. For the record, I had been living on Crete before, which is the biggest island of Greece, located on its southernmost end.

I wouldn't be here, if I hadn't chosen to become a doctor. And I wouldn't have chosen to become a doctor, if I weren't completely nuts. And naive. And with no sense of self - preservation whatsoever.

When I was little, I used to watch ER on tv. I couldn't get enough of the brave, self sacrifising doctors, who managed to save lives and look extra cute at the same time! No matter the time, or the extreme circumstances, they fought to do good. The adrenaline was intoxicating, and the sense of accomplishment was hypnotizing.

Unfortunately for me, I relied too much on tv, and didn't have any doctors in my family to wake me up and introduce me to reality. So, while I was studying Ancient History, Ancient Greek, Latin and Literature, (and not having a clue in Math, Biology, Physics and Chemistry that are essential for Med School), I applied for the latter. It was more of a joke, actually. I was going to become a Literature teacher, like my parents, and didn't stand a single chance to be accepted. Well, wrong...

So, I entered Med school, wanting to learn new and exciting things, in order to help people and take away as much pain and suffering as possible. And then, I had to wake up.

Before I continue, it is important to explain a bit about universities in Greece. In my country, it is obligatory to attend school for 9 years (starting at the age of 6). You can then choose to go to a technical school and learn a craft, or continue to high school for another 3 years. At the age of 18, you take exams. These exams are the same for every Greek student. The subjects are the same, the questions are identical, and they all start at the same date and time. So basically, you compete with every other Greek student all over the country simultaneously. Once you get your grades, you are free to apply to any school you like. The school will accept a given number of candidates, depending on their grades only, from highest to lowest.

Example: If you apply for Med school and your University of choice admits 50 students per year, you have to be in the top 50 students that applied for the same position at the same time to be accepted. Even if you have done extraordinarily, you won't get accepted if 50 students did better than you. On the contrary, you may have had a few misses, but if everyone else did as well, it won't matter. As long as you are in the top 50 / 100 / 150, depending on the number of students the school accepts, you are ok. So having good grades alone doesn't matter. The whole idea is the competition - where others stand and where you stand. And it is a matter of supply and demand. Getting into a much wanted school is a whole lot more difficult than getting to one few people apply to.

Anyway, it is difficult to get into university (and it costs a lot of money, since all kids pay for private education in the afternoon along with public education that is offered for free at schools in the mornings). But once you get there, a different era begins. The era of enjoying yourself and simply doing nothing. Because university education is public in Greece - that means you don't pay a thing for your studies. There are no teaching fees and no book fees. Also, there is no limit to the years you can study. You can fail in the same course zillions of times, and it's ok. You can be 35 and still studying after 20 years - nobody tells you anything, and of course nobody throws you out of school. But what makes student life amazing, is the concept of "Greek parents".

You may have heard about this rare species, watched it on National Geographic documentaries, or laughed at it watching "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" on tv. Oh, "Greek parents" are strange creatures indeed, and they deserve a little analyzing. Their whole existence is based on the concept that children don't grow up. The years may pass by, but their babies remain babies. Like vampires or something, time does not touch them.

So, no matter if they are 10, 20 or 40, you still have to fuss about them eating their dinner, dressing in a certain way, and playing / going out / getting married to people you like and approve of. And of course, they never ever go away. In the most extreme circumstances, they may move to a house that is right next to their parents'. But even then, having a spare key and being able to come and go to your children's house as you please is a given.

Having this kind of parents may be a pain in the gluteus maximus, if you get my drift. It is suffocating and infuriating. But it has its benefits as well. One of which is the fact that Greek parents are adamant about their children going to university. To achieve this goal, no expense is too great and no effort is too big. And once their offspring get this much-wanted place, the proud parents continue to provide for them. And they never stop giving, unless their "kid" graduates and finds a job.

So, this attitude is the reason why the image of students selling lemonade as a part-time job in the summer seemed more strange to me, than Paris Hilton actually settling down. Greek parents don't ever get that. To them, a kid having to earn his pocket money by working would be insulting. It would mean that they themselves cannot provide for him. Don't get me wrong, I get the whole "being independent" and "learning how hard it is to earn your own money" idea. I actually applaud the concept. If more kids did that here, we would have less brats that couldn't stop being dependent on their parents. But that doesn't happen here often.

Still, not earning your own pocket money at 15 is not dramatic. But depending on your parents to pay for your cigarettes at 30 is pathetic. Because, as I told you earlier, parents don't stop giving until their "kid" graduates and finds a job. And let's face it - finding a job isn't easy nowadays. And the recent economic crisis is not the only reason for that. It is all a fault of the species of Greek parents, actually. Being so persistent about their kids going to university, they created a country where every kid has a university degree. The result? There are far too many unemployed doctors and lawyers here, while it is painfully difficult to find a plumber or an electrician!

And here comes the last and most important characteristic of Greek parents: Pride. They are immensely proud of their children. To them, they represent all that is good and right in this world. And, having worked so hard to get them to university, they refuse to see them getting a job that is "beneath them". So no, it is not ok to find any job in order to earn a living. You have to find a job that you "deserve". Until then, "you have your family to turn to"!

So, in this vampire country I live, kids don't ever grow up. They live with their parents instead, bargaining for more pocket money at 35, having their mother wash their underwear and cook their favourite dinner. Waiting for the "right" job to come, hoping to get their own place some time - as long as it is close to their parents' house, of course. In the end, getting married to "appropriate" people and giving birth to "extraordinary" children. And this vicious circle continues...

I started this post wanting to tell you about how and why I got into university. I talked about all Greek students instead. As much as this got out of hand, I think this is even better. And while it may seem I detest my country, I actually love it very much. Because only if you really love something or someone, you can accept it with all its flaws and weaknesses.

And to be fair, the species of Greek parents is an amazing species by all means. It is one that never ever lets you down, and always looks out for you - no matter what. It is a species that always makes you a priority, and sacrifises itself for you without a second thought. It is a species we all love and respect. Do you want proof for that?

In Greece, kids selling lemonade is an unknown concept. But old parents staying in nursery homes is an unknown concept as well... :)

PS: I would love to hear your comments and also your own experiences from your own country / community / family.

Feminism and cooking, part 2

[Alternative title]: I am just like my mother (or not?)

It's been a while since I lasted posted, and I am sorry for that. I was too busy averting crises, or at least trying to (my failure rating is quite amazing these days!), so I didn't really have a moment of peace to thing about things. However, today is the day. And after the previous, painfully long and quite general post about feminism, today it gets personal.

It is commonly accepted that each generation is more progressive and innovating that the last one. If we think about it, we are far more progressive than our mothers. More open-minded, more ready to accept new and different things. Umm... no. In my case, things went kind of backwards.

First of all, my parents had me when they were both 20 years old. As you probably can imagine, no, they didn't get married at 16, so it wasn't a "well thought" and "mature" decision to have a child. I sort of happened - unexpectedly. At an age when they were both unprepared to raise a child, and while they were both studying at university.


Luckily for me, my parents rose up to the challenge. It wasn't easy, of course, but that is another story. Due to the young age of my parents, however, and the fact that they were also highly active in terms of political participation at the university, I was raised up in a quite "unorthodox" way. Instead of taking a nap in my crib, for example, I got to used to sleeping in student amphitheaters, "witnessing" discussions, student elections and quarrels between different political parties. I became sort of the year's "mascot" and, whenever my parents didn't have time to take care of me, I had the rest of the students babysit me in rotation. I learnt how to read at the age of 3, and could sing baby songs and political ones at an equal ratio.


I am sure all of this helped me in the end. It made me more sociable (being around so many people), good in communication, and easily adaptable to different situations. Even today, I can't relate to people having "difficult" children, who are very picky eaters, or very particular about their needs. Having two parents with no income, any food tasted good, and any place could be transformed to a sleeping place. Most of all, I didn't feel neglected - not a tiny bit. I felt right there, in the center of attention, being part of all the fun - even if fun included hundreds of people disagreeing about stuff I couldn't quite comprehend. I didn't care - it just felt good being with my parents.


After being raised in such an uncommon way, my parents expected that I became an extraordinary person, to say the least. Extremely cultured, liberal in my political views, a feminist, an atheist, not a teeny bit religious or conservative. After all, how could I be? I never had a traditional upbringing, or a conservative background.


Unluckily for them, I share a lot of their views, but have some of my own as well. No, by no means I consider myself to be a conservative person. However, though not religious, for example, I am highly spiritual. I do think that there is a greater force out there, that keeps the whole universe in balance. I don't want to label this force, but I believe in it. Also, I strongly believe in feminism, but not to the point that women insult the other sex and try to take over their roles. And, last but not least, (and I am finally getting to the topic of my post) unlike my mother, I enjoy cooking.


In my parents' house, cooking was a chore, a necessity, something that reasonable people are obliged to do and nothing more. Also, being a part of the household routine, it was something a sane woman would try to avoid. The point was to get out of the kitchen, not go inside! As well as this, eating was merely for satisfying a biological need, that had to be met and then be done with it. No, I would be unfair to say that me and my brother and sister grew up on fast food. But we grew up with quick meals that took place in a hurry, in order to attend to more important things later.


Well, I strongly disagree with all the above. Cooking is not just for getting the stomach full. Cooking is a way of relaxing, having some time to oneself, leaving the imagination loose, trying to conquer unknown kingdoms. It is a way of getting the creative juices flowing, and getting rid of the day's tension and troubles. But the miracle doesn't stop there: Hopefully, something good will come out of this enjoyable process, something that will make the people we love happy and amazed. One more token of our love and affection, one more way to show that we care. And even if everything tastes disgusting in the end, it will still be something to laugh about later. Yes, cooking is remarkable indeed.


But, no matter how hard I try, my parents will never ever understand that. To them, it will always be just a waste of time. Or worse. Because to my mother, a devoted feminist, it is a form of submission. As a result, every time they call me in the middle of my "food creating process" and ask me what I have been up to, their standard response to my answer is a sigh of disapproval. Sometimes, I swear it does feel like doing something illegal!

So, sorry mom, I am not like you. But please, do not worry. I know my rights, and cooking is not gonna make me quit them. LOL You didn't raise no fool. But you didn't raise no identical copy of yours, either.


I really wish you could understand me sometimes. Not only in the matter of cooking, but in all those things that bring us apart. All those things that make you shrug your shoulders and wonder how it is possible that this apple came from your tree. But, at some matters, I have just given up hope.


I am nothing like you. But my mirror says otherwise. My mood swings say otherwise. My partner says otherwise. LOL And the way I get passionate about things, and extremely emotional and spontaneous, actually does remind me of somebody I know very well...

Feminists and cooking, part 1

"Feminism" and "cooking". Two words that don't seem to belong in the same sentence, right? I dare say: Wrong! One of my favourite hobbies (and, strangely, the one that seems to irritate my friends the most), is to try and break down stereotypes. Well founded, long established stereotypes. But, if I want to have at least a minimal chance of achieving this extremely ambitious goal, we have to go back to basics: We know what "cooking" is - even the most inexperienced of us, have a faint idea. But what is "feminism"? And why what started as a political movement, ended up being a bitter story that nobody touches?

I don't want to trouble you with all the boring historical facts. But, in a sentence, feminism started as an effort to establish women's right to vote, and generally be equal with men, in terms of political participation, social status and property. No sane person argues with the above, right?

So, every time we are able to cast a vote, whether it is the same as our husband's or not, we have "those bloody feminists" to thank for. Every time we are out there getting a job or a promotion, earning our own money, reporting sexual harassment and being protected by the law, we have to remember the ones that made it all possible for us. Women who had the guts to stand up for themselves and fight for something that, all of us, take for granted in modern times: That all people, women included, are equal.

Unfortunately, some feminist parties, took things a little (or a lot) further. Somehow, being equal didn't seem quite enough. The next goal was both a foolish, and an impossible one: Women wouldn't just be equal to men, but one and the same.

Well, guess what? We are NOT one and the same. We don't think alike, we don't act alike, and we don't look alike. We are different and unique. Each one has different strong points and weaknesses, and different roles to play. And as long as these different roles are not established, women and men end up fighting for the same ones. And it all comes down to this same ol', same ol' story: Who has the upper hand?

This ruthless fight for the upper hand that takes places in modern societies, creates monsters: Supposedly strong, overly ambitious and incredibly close-minded women on the one hand, confused, deceived, intimidated and emasculated men on the other. And, at the end of the day, they are both one and the same - lonely people who are tired of being lonely, wondering where the other sex has gone. Looking for affection and human contact, tired of fighting, but compelled to do so.

In my generation, women were told to be strong, independent, to have a life outside their home, to fight for a carreer and social status. Well, most ended up in their thirties, still trying for this promotion, still working more than their male colleagues, still being paid less. Still going out to bars with their girlfriends after work and wondering "why have all men disappeared". And, despite their strong feminist views, still feeling the urge to have children and watching time pass by, only to wake up one day and discover it is too late. And the few "lucky" ones that realise their need for motherhood early enough and get to have a family, find themselves forced to be cut in pieces: Having to be succesful businesswomen as well as affectionate mothers, dedicated housewives, and caring partners. Juggling work meetings with chidren's school projects, household chores and relationship crises. Running all day, but still having one moment or two in their busy days to realise the awkard truth: That feminism wasn't such a bargain after all. Somehow, instead of being freed, they ended up with more responsibilities and obligations than ever.

But men of my generation are not in a better position either. Their mothers raised them as princes, being at their beck and call, everything ready, all wishes granted. They never had to worry about anything, all was provided. Sadly, they discovered that their wives-to-be looked nothing like their mothers. Suddenly, the princes became despised frogs. For the first time in their lives, they were demanded to do something by themselves. And, of course, they couldn't - didn't know how, never learnt. After this, they, who supposedly "could have the world laid in front of their feet", as their mommies had told them, were declared incapable and useless by their potential princesses, and unworthy of their valuable time. In one word, they were incapacitated.

So, what do we do now? Continue our miserable lonely lives, or go back to the Dark Ages? Neither. Feminism was a start, a great start in fact. But men and women should learn to embrace not only their equality, but also their uniqueness. And try to cope with this transitional phase in modern societies, with more understanding for the other sex. It won't be easy, but it is not half as difficult as the alternative: Living alone, with no one to share life's troubles and joys with, engaged in a fight with no winners. It's not really a dilemma, is it?

[Due to the great size of the post and the late hour, more thoughts about feminism and cooking tomorrow... Good night, everybody!]

Crazy cat lady may not be crazy after all...

Most of us have pets. Whether it is a sweet lab, a terrifying tarantula or a weird iguana, we have chosen them for a reason, welcomed them in our home and are (hopefully) stuck with them for a lifetime (our own or theirs, depending on their life expectancy). We are obliged to keep them safe and healthy, feed them, give them affection.

Then, for some of us, they become more than pets. They are actual family members. It may sound like quite a stretch, but if we come to think of it, they are not unlike children: Unable to take care of themselves, and dependent on us for doing so. With one big difference: Our children gradually grow up and, day after day, become more independent. Our pets do not. They will always need us. Once they are domesticated and their way of life is changed, they become less capable of making it "out there". So, if you do the math, they are actually more needy than children.

There are those who think that pet lovers are kind of obsessed and lonely people. Our very own picture of sheer loneliness is that of an old lady with 87 cats or more, running around in the house and taking over the furniture. I respectfully disagree with this stereotype. Of course, having no or little contact with human beings shows that one is lonely. But it does not prove that he/she is crazy or obsessed. Maybe he/she is just disappointed and got hurt in the past from certain people, and is now afraid to start new relationships. Maybe he/she simply got unlucky in life, and lost some loved ones along the way. Either way, that person is trying to find in animals, what he/she couldn't find in people: Innocence, sincerity and affection. Personally, whenever I come across such a person in life, I put my stereotypes in a locked closet, where they belong. And I try to reach out, rather than shut out.

But you don't have to live alone with a small zoo to be judged as weird and obsessed. Even people with big families and lots of children are kind of looked down on, when they refer to their pets as their "furry kids". Something HAS to be wrong with them, right? Somehow, they are unable to make the distinction between humans and animals, to recognise the first as important, and the latter as expendable, as "they ought to". I myself have experienced this many times, with Phoebs, our dog.

"Don't worry, mom, let them say whatever they want"

Well, let me tell you something: I personally admire and feel humbled by the miracle of life in all forms possible. When I will have children, I imagine that, as every parent, I will do my absolute best to keep them safe and happy. This is not so much of a choice, as it is a given fact. It is the unmistakable primal instict all animals on this planet share, in order to protect the weaker, younger members of their community. Nonetheless, I will by no means consider my pets "expendable".

So, no matter how many times I will be frowned on, I will continue to regard Phoebs as part of our family. Because, after all, when I think of family, two words come into mind: "Unconditional love". And I see that every day with Phoebs. I see that in the way she jumps on us when we come home, her little tail shaking with joy and enthusiasm. In the way she falls asleep in my lap, having total confidence in me to keep her safe. In the way she HAS to come and greet us every morning, or follows us whenever we leave the room. Every single day, no matter what, she loves us. Unconditionally.

"I love you a lot... But I love my bone, too!"