Health care. Cheaper than you imagined.

What if I need an operation and you didn't save enough money?

This might be the greatest deal in all of commerce right now. It’s certainly the least publicized, relative to the benefits rendered.

Pet wellness plans. Seriously. A few dollars a month for uncommon peace of mind…because animals still can’t tell you where it hurts.

America’s largest veterinary chain, Banfield, the Pet Hospital offers its Optimum Wellness Plan for a mere $23 a month if you enroll your puppy or kitten early enough. (Competing chain VCA offers a similar program.) Pricelessness now has a price – and an awfully reasonable one, too.

No matter how well you might take care of them, even the healthiest cat or dog will come down with something. A pet wellness plan saves you money on everything from vaccinations to dental treatments to comprehensive exams and all sorts of lab work. Pet wellness plans even cover free checkups when you notice something out of the ordinary. One routine tooth cleaning for your dog can end up running $600 without a plan, and God forbid if your cat needs to be dewormed or something. With a pet wellness plan, it’s all covered.

At first mention, the very concept of a pet wellness plan might sound a little too esoteric to be legitimate – the veterinary equivalent of an extended vehicle warranty or rustproofing.

But a pet wellness plan is different. Don’t confuse it with insurance, which operates differently in the sense that with insurance you’re paying for something (fire coverage, death benefits) that you hope you’ll never use. A pet wellness plan is really just a steep discount on something you’ll almost certainly buy anyway, in exchange for a long-term commitment from you. For all parties to the transaction, it’s an unequivocal win-win-win. The pet hospital gets a customer, hopefully for life, who’ll have little incentive to seek out a competing veterinarian. You get across-the-board savings. And your pet gets better care than humans receive in some Third World countries.

My two cats of indeterminate pedigree – one from a shelter, the other from a garbage can – both joined the family at the age of 6 weeks or so. Each got their requisite vaccinations and sterilizations at the recommended time, at which point it was time to shop for a permanent physician. We enrolled them in wellness plans the moment we digested the literature, and the $276 annual investment paid off before their first birthdays. Administer an infectious peritonitis vaccine here ($24), a metronidazole prescription there ($35)…add an MRI to determine the cause of a blockage, or treatment to reduce the swelling from a scorpion bite, and your vet bill can add up quickly.

But a pet wellness plan reduces the standard office visit fee from $35 to 0. It lowers the payment on some in-office treatments by 75%. And it gives you 7-day-a-week care transferable to any pet hospital in the chain. The comprehensive exams alone (rectal, ophthalmic and many more) justify the cost of the plan, and then some.

You won’t have to ask your HMO for reimbursement, either. While a visit to the vet will probably never be enjoyable for the patient, a pet wellness plan can make that visit a lot more palatable for the patient’s chauffeur.

**This post is featured in the Carnival of Personal Finance #271**

**This post is featured on the Road to Financial Independence Carnival**

 

It’s only money. Tens of thousands of dollars of money.

Sasha Obama, taken the day Digging Out From Our Mess got out of the red.

We spend so much time online looking out for fellow travelers, people who encourage you to spend your money, invest it wisely, and take ownership, that we never dreamed there was an online subculture of financially irresponsible people and their enablers; people who pay nominal attention to increasing their net worth, and who think that intending to get out of debt trumps actually doing so.

We recently discovered Digging Out From Our Mess, a blog posted by the female half of a couple who have an autistic kid, a normal kid, four credit card balances, two student loans, and $71,930.29 in consumer debt. Is this cause for shame? Possibly, but not when you can brag about it!

The anonymous 30ish woman behind the blog qualifies that total, admitting that her and her husband’s cumulative debt load does not include a “retirement loan”. We’d never heard that term before, and you probably haven’t either: Google only returns 628 results. It turns out that a retirement loan is an advance on a 401(k). Yes, a woman in the prime of life is borrowing now to avoid incurring penalties on a forced retirement plan that the law prevents her from touching until she turns 59½. But if you’re going to borrow against your 401(k), why even have it in the first place? Borrowing against it defeats the purpose of “forced saving”. We’re guessing the author also carries life insurance, although she’s coy about any weekly lottery ticket budget she might have (every ticket a potential winner!)

We’ll resume attacking her in a second, but in the meantime know that if you attempt to touch your 401(k) before you turn 59½, for anything other than emergency medical expenses, you’ll pay a 10% penalty.*

Anyhow, Mystery Blogger is proud that she’s 6% of the way to getting out of debt. (There’s a graph that illustrates this on her website. DON’T VISIT IT.) This means she’s en route to getting out of debt in her early 50s. Excluding the retirement loan, of course, which she’ll have to start paying back shortly thereafter. She recently posted that she spent $1000 to send her kids to camp for the summer, and is upset that her mother, maybe mother-in-law, it’s hard to remember which, didn’t contribute.

$1000 is close to 1.4% of her family’s ostensible consumer debt total. She could have moved her debt arrow that much closer to the end of the graph. When you’re only at 6%, that $1000 makes a visible difference. Yet she chose to put her money in something fleeting instead.

Incur debt, cry about it, go public with your halfhearted attempts to reduce it, then do something that increases it, while hoping that someone else might subsidize it. In which universe does that make sense? (We’re finding out that it does make sense in the world of international finance, but that’s a different and more ominous story.)

Alright, we give you permission to visit Digging Out From Our Mess, but only to witness this exchange in which Mystery Blogger defends herself and her methods against a humble Control Your Cash sniper. Mystery Blogger is the financial equivalent of the fat woman who loses 3 pounds and is so proud of her accomplishment that she has to share it with everyone and act as an authority on the topic of weight loss, even though she needs to lose another 77. Congratulations, you went 10 minutes without a cigarette. Here’s your Medal of Honor.

Once again, and this will be far from the last time: the only way to build wealth is to buy assets and sell liabilities. It’s elegant, it’s symmetrical, it’s simple and it never fails. Your kid’s summer indulgence is a liability. You should sell (i.e., not buy) it. A 401(k) is an asset. You should buy (i.e., contribute to) it. A loan you borrow with your 401(k) as collateral is a grenade. You should throw it at the Viet Cong.

It’s at times like this that we wish Tim Berners-Lee had majored in women’s studies instead of giving people like this an outlet. Maybe the Chinese have the right idea about censoring the internet, because Digging Out From Our Mess is far more obscene than anything you’ll find on 2 Girls 1 Cup, LiveLeak or Lemon Party.

If you’re $78,000 in debt, log out of BlogSpot, back away from the keyboard and spend that time at a second job.

* If you don’t have a 401(k), and you qualify, get one. Yes, it’s something you can’t enjoy for years, but it lowers your tax obligation. It’s a way of giving the federal government a few ounces of flesh instead of the requisite pound. Plus, most employers offer matching contributions up to a certain level. If your company is willing to exploit its own tax situation by giving a few dollars to your retirement rather than a few more to Uncle Sam, let ‘em.

Note: We didn’t bash the autistic kid, we bashed the mother. Relax. If anything, she should hand the autistic kid the keys to the checkbook and the bank passwords. He couldn’t do much worse than her.