Welcome to Petty Cash, the series where real pet parents open their books and show us where the money actually goes over four weeks, the standing subscriptions, the impulse buys, the vet surprises, all of it.
Pet name: Bella Pet age: 9 Pet breed: Pit Bull Location: Hudson Valley, New York Household salary: $75,000 Job: Writer
The gotcha story
Picture the summer of 2021, mid-pandemic. The person I was dating back then had her heart set on the two of us signing up to foster. Fostering is a genuinely good thing to do. I also knew, privately, that neither of us had the emotional constitution to bring a dog into our home and then hand her off to somebody else.
Bella was the first dog we fostered, and, predictably, the last, because we adopted her almost immediately. Twenty Paws Rescue in Brooklyn reached out about her the same weekend we got approved. Her previous family had already scheduled and prepaid to have her euthanized that coming Monday. Twenty Paws pulled her out in time and brought her to us, and the second she bounded across the room to me, the fostering plan was over. She was mine.
How much did she cost? Zero dollars. Consider it the prize for foster-failing.
Up-front supplies? Maybe $100. I’d been collecting pet-owner friends, so I inherited a pile of dog hand-me-downs. Most of that hundred went to a crate she has never once used.
Pet insurance? Also zero. When I adopted Bella I didn’t even have health insurance for myself. I do now. She still doesn’t. (Do as I say.)
Subscriptions? $104 a month for Royal Canin Large Digestive Care dry food.
Most expensive purchase ever? A month-long board-and-train, just under $5,000, aimed at her reactivity around other dogs. It did essentially nothing, which has been a real joy to sit with.
Most outrageous purchase? I’ve been oddly restrained with Bella, though it takes effort. I did once buy her noise-canceling headphones because some road work on my block seemed to be mildly bothering her.
Anything with her face on it? Now that I have not been restrained about. Mugs, tacky blankets, and, after losing to an Instagram ad, a custom Bella Pokémon card. In fairness, her farts do 250 damage. A tattoo is inevitable.
Money-saving tips? Buy in bulk. And, unlike me, actually get pet insurance.
Week One
Royal Canin Large Digestive Care, $104. The monthly 30-pound bag arrives like clockwork, always dropped in the least reachable corner of my building’s entryway. Retrieving it involves a series of undignified box-drags up the stairs, and I tweak my back roughly every time. I do it anyway, because this is the kibble Bella adores and, unlike most foods, it keeps her stomach settled.
Bone marrow treat, $6. Like a lot of dogs, Bella has separation anxiety, and I’ve fallen into the habit of bribing her with a reward every time I run to the store, as payment for tolerating an hour home alone. This week it was a bone marrow chew, one of her favorites and one of the few things that’ll keep her busy long enough for me to put groceries away in peace.
Orthopedic bed, $87. I take too many trips to Target, and this time I came home with a supportive orthopedic dog bed from their house brand, hoping to convince Bella to sleep somewhere other than directly on top of me. We do this dance every couple of months. She was thrilled to watch me open a big box, deflated to learn it held a bed, gave it a courtesy sniff, and then relaunched herself onto my mattress for the night.
Week Two
WAHL dry shampoo, $9. Spring arrived with an 80 percent chance of rain most of the week. Bella won’t do her business until we’ve covered a solid half-mile, which is brutal on her coat and my shoes when it’s wet out. She hates baths and I don’t have time to give her three a week, so dry shampoo is a lifesaver, and she thinks the application is a massage, so everybody wins.
Bocce’s Bakery Soft and Chewy treats, $7. Bella’s tummy limits what she can eat, and Bocce’s treats make the cut, so they’ve become a staple. To coax her onto the new bed, I gave her one every time she lay on it. She promptly figured out the scam, grabbing a treat off the bed and then hopping into my bed to eat it. I’d be annoyed if I weren’t so impressed by the hustle.
Ark Naturals Brushless Toothpaste, $18. Yet another order placed with the retail giant, apologies to the warehouse crew. It’s been long enough since my own last dentist visit that multiple Beyoncé albums have dropped, but Bella’s dental hygiene I take seriously. These tooth-cleaning chews do the job without upsetting her stomach. She eats them with the air of someone who suspects they’re good for her and resents it.
Chuckit! ball, $8. At checkout, Amazon dangled a classic Chuckit! ball in front of me, and naturally I caved, given Bella’s all-consuming tennis-ball fixation. She plays a little too hard, and it didn’t survive four days.
Week Three
KONG Ball, $14. Mourning the murdered Chuckit!, I ordered the toughest ball I could find. She’s had these before and never managed to destroy one, though several have vanished into the void beneath my couch. I packed the new one with treats and she was in heaven, at least until it inevitably rolls under the couch and forces a reckoning with how rarely I sweep.
Earth Rated poop bags, $13. A few years in, Bella still gives me a deeply confused look every time I clean up after her. These heavy-duty Earth Rated bags are ideal for a big girl, and they’re made from recycled plastic, so my neighbors and my conscience both stay happy.
Vet care, $90. Bella needed her anal glands expressed, a procedure she gets every couple of months. A groomer can do it for less, but Bella needs extra patience and tends to terrify most groomers, so we go to the vet. She hates it, blames me entirely, and gave me the silent treatment at home until she remembered it was dinnertime and forgave me instantly.
Week Four
Natural Dog Company Skin Soother, $15. My own seasonal allergies seem to have been handed straight down to my dog, so come spring her paws crack and dry out, and she worries at them, which only compounds it. I buy a couple tins of this balm every year and it fixes the issue. She’s not thrilled about anyone handling her paws but tolerates it long enough for the balm to work.
A four-pack of bandanas, $10. I can’t have my girl walking around undressed, so I keep her stocked with seasonal bandanas. This spring-pastel pack starts with a pink one, in the vain hope of softening how she reads to people scared of big Pitties. It changes nothing, but she feels pretty, and that’s the whole point.
Total monthly spend: $381
- Vet care: $90
- Grooming accessories: $42
- Food: $104
- Treats: $13
- Toys: $22
- Lounging accessories: $87
- Walk accessories: $13
- Clothes and wearables: $10
How do I feel about it?
None of this surprises me. If anything I spent less than I’d have guessed, which probably says more about my bookkeeping than my restraint. I’d love to promise I’ll cut back, but I won’t. In a month or two I’ll buy her another bed she’ll barely touch and run the whole experiment again.
